warmachine: reckoning

7/25/2019 Warmachine: Reckoning

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CREDITSWARMACHINEcreated and designed byMatthew D. Wilson

Lead Designer,WARMACHINE

Jason Soles

Designer, ReckoningDavid Carl

Project DirectorBryan Cutler

Creative DirectorEd Bourelle

Lead WriterDouglas Seacat

WritingMatt DiPietroGeordie HicksZach Parker

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Lyle LoweryWilliam Shick

ContinuityDouglas Seacat

Jason Soles

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ProofreadingDavid CarlDan HendersonDarla KennerudWilliam Shick


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4

THE THORNWOOD NECROFACTORIUM,

EARLY 609 AR

Kommander Oleg Strakhov sat on his haunches keeping

watch on the entrance, glad to be free for the moment of

the oppressive drudge helmet that he had been wearing

for the weeksor was it months?since he rst inltrated

the Cryxian base. He had lost all track of the passage of

time amid his desperate bid to nd and rescue Kommander

Karchev. Time meant little below the earth with no sun

or moons to mark its passage, and Strakhov had quickly

given up trying to track it.

He had been back to see Karchev several times since

discovering his location within the necrofactorium. When

the great kommander was lucid enough to speak to him,

he would ask Strakhov to kill him so that he could not be

made into a weapon against the Motherland. Each time

Strakhov had refused or deected the request, assertingthat he would nd a way to free Karchev and return him to

the ght against Khadors enemies. The promises sounded

increasingly empty to Strakhovs ears. Karchev was clearly

deteriorating, the torments inicted upon him by his

captors eroding even his legendary iron will.

Strakhovs own mind had begun to fray under the pressures

of remaining unseen in the bowels of the Cryxian base for so

long. He had forgotten the taste of real food, subsisting on

the vile substance employed to nourish cephalyx drudges.

His apparent impotency to rescue Karchev from the torments

that were slowly breaking the kommander was far worse

than any deprivations, though. His own darkest momenthad come when he found Karchev, fresh from some new and

horric interrogation, raving incoherently and with wild

eyes, incapable of recognizing him. Strakhov had almost

drawn his blade to end the kommanders suffering. As his

hand had tightened on its grip, his resolve had returned, as if

the familiar feel of the hilt had reignited the re within him

that had been smothered by the necrofactoriums darkness.

The next time he had visited, Karchev had been his usual

stoic self, his mind intact, though weary beyond belief.

Kommander, I need your assistance, a gruff voice hissed,

breaking him from his thoughts.

Of course, Alexi, Strakhov said in a similarly low tone,

trying to keep his voice from carrying. He stood and made

his way to his fellow Khadoran, carefully picking his way

through the scattered scrap piles of the necrofactoriums

mechanical salvage area.

Strakhov had discovered this place shortly before he had

found Karchev. At the time he had dismissed it as useless; it

had appeared to contain only the worst of the wreckage Cryx

DEEPER OBLIGATIONS

had scavenged from the battleeld. Most of its piles held

little more than shredded scrap. All the better pieces had

been claimed by necrotechs and taken to their laboratories.

Following his last visit with Karchev, Strakhov had

returned here, desperate to nd somethinganythingthat could help him make Karchevs life-sustaining

equipment mobile. He had determined that the undead

used a systematic approach to sifting through the scrap.

Intact cortexes were prioritized and taken away, but among

those that were rejected he sensed several of Khadoran

manufacture that still had a spark of internal functionality.

Strakhov was able to steal the best of these before they

could be broken down and reclaimed.

His limited mechanikal aptitude was another barrier, and

it was this that had prompted him to seek help. He had

entered the necrofactorium alone. During his explorations

he had come upon chambers where recently capturedprisoners underwent the horric surgery that transformed

them into mindless drudges to serve the cephalyx. Among

these prisoners had been his unfortunate countrymen,

including battle mechaniks waylaid in the last engagement.

I need you to maneuver this piston here, Alexi said,

motioning with the steel clamp that had replaced his hand.

None of the rest of us have the necessary delicate touch,

thanks to our captors. Alexi spat into the cold earth at the

mention of the cephalyx.

You have made do. As true soldiers of the Motherland,

Strakhov said. He forced himself not to think about thefate of the men he hadnt saved. It had been difcult to

stand by as his countrymen, and even the Cygnarans,

were cut apart, violated and transformed into mindless

abominations. Hed had little choice, of course; trying

to save them all would only have led to his deathand

Karchevs. So he had waited and watched, until he saw

Alexis small group of mechaniks.

It had taken all his skill to liberate them without alerting

the entire base. Unlike with the mindless thralls or

drudges, the death of a cephalyx, even a minor one, would

not go unnoticed. It was an unavoidable risk. He had been

unable to intervene until after the cephalyx had begun

many of the external modications to the men. In order to

throw off the rest of the base as long as possible, Strakhov

had staged the scene to appear as if several prisoners had

broken loose and killed the overseeing cephalyx before

being torn apart by drudges. He had not relished killing

his own countrymen, but those chosen had been suffering

and were slated for a fate worse than death. It had been

imperative that the scene be as authentic as possible.

PART ONE


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This connective tubing will probably leak, and many of the

parts are damaged. Anyway, Alexi, its ready for its cortex.

Did you pick one out, Kommander? Alexi motioned to

the three cortexes Strakhov had selected. Each had severe

dents from direct impacts, and one had been partially

attened.

Strakhov pointed to the one on the left. That one.

Lazlo looked skeptical. That one by far has the worst

wear. Are you sure, Kommander?

My mother told me once, the prettiest girls rarely make

the best wives, Strakhov said atly.

A light of amusement entered Lazlos eye. A strange

lesson, Kommander.

My mother was not an attractive woman. Strakhovs face

showed no humor as he xed his gaze on the mechanik.

Alexi chuckled. But clearly she was a smart one.

Strakhov nodded. The brightest I have ever known.

Stop chit-chatting with the kommander, Vadim growled

from atop the jack where its access hatch had been openedwide. Get his cortex up here! My ass is getting numb.

Lazlo looked between Strakhov and the delicate but heavy

cortex, then down at his own handsone a cauterized

stump, the other an oversized metal gauntlet. Um,

Kommander . . . ?

Strakhov patted Lazlo on the shoulder once and went

over to pick up his chosen cortex. Alexi followed.

Suddenly a mufed boom echoed through the chamber

walls, and Strakhov felt the oor of the room vibrate

from the activation of heavy machinery in the heart of

the necrofactorium. He stopped and listened as his handinstinctively went to his blade. The walls had come alive

with a vibrating hum. He thought he heard more mufed

noises. Explosions? Gunfre?

What is it? Vadim hissed, his eyes darting around

nervously.

Strakhov held up a hand for silence as he strained to listen.

It was difcult to discern over the new sounds of the

machinery, but he was certain he heard distant explosions.

He swore their sacrice would be honored once he had

succeeded in liberating Karchev.

He was depending on the hope that the cephalyx cared so

little about individual humans they would not notice the

deception. This meant he was trying to conceal an entire

group from the inhabitants of the lower tunnels. The clock

was ticking. They would be noticed eventually.Now youll need to bend these back into position here,

but be careful you dont crumple the piston itself, Alexi

instructed.

Strakhov did as he was told while Alexi and another

mechanik named Vadim use their mechanical appendages

to secure the hydraulic array in place.

You can let go now, Alexi said.

Strakhov released the piston and stepped away. He winced

at the sight of the slapdash nature of the thing. Youre

sure you can get this machine operational?

Alexi scowled, exaggerating the heavy lines in his sallow

face. Depends on what you mean by operational. The

legs are misaligned and the steam engine has faulty

relief valves, which could lead to a boiler explosion. Im

condent we can get this kuchkato move, however, and so

get Kommander Karchev out of this place.

Strakhov nodded, though looking at the thing along with

the ragged band of survivors he had his doubts. He had

saved their lives, but they were scarred, mentally as well

as physically. The horror they had endured combined with

the strain of scurrying about the base had left its mark:

they moved more like mice avoiding a housecat thansoldiers of the Motherland. Normally he would never

have tolerated such weakness, but he knew he must rely

on these men, for they had skills he lacked. He recognized

their tenuous mental state and had made it a point to

bolster their shattered spirits in whatever way he could.

He said, Once we make our move, well have precious

little time before the alarm is raised.

We were lucky to nd a chassis with so little boiler

damage, Lazlo interjected, speaking quickly and with

enthusiasm. The scrawny youths harrowing experiences

had clearly not extinguished his energetic personality.Doubly so that it was on one of the new Grolars. The

sheer power possible from its boiler array will give you

plenty of speed.

Youll just need to watch your fuel, Vadim added from

his place atop the warjacks chassis. His face, damaged

by the cephalyx, had been hastily bandaged, and he

struggled to speak clearly. Theres a full load taken from

the other wrecks, but that wont last long if you push it.

SUDDENLY A MUFFLED

BOOM ECHOED THROUGH

THE CHAMBER WALLS, AND

STRAKHOV FELT THE FLOOR OF

THE ROOM VIBRATE.


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6

DEEPER OBLIGATIONS, PART ONE

Above, he said, an excited edge to his voice, our

comrades have commenced a new attack. He turned and

looked to Alexi. We will never get a better chance than this.

Our enemies will be distracted. We have to move, now!

The group worked quickly, Alexi overseeing Vadim and

Strakhovs installation of the cortex while Lazlo stoked the

warjacks boiler. When the nal conduits were connected,Strakhov felt the dull pulse of the warjacks damaged

consciousness surging to life. Though its mind was clearly

impaired, there was an impulse still there: a need to serve.

Strakhov gave a sharp nod. Lets get Kommander

Karchev.

SOUTHWESTERN THORNWOOD, TWO

WEEKS EARLIER

The dark-haired woman rode in an enclosed wagon that

looked like any of the many others comprising the long

resupply column. It was ahead of several wagons hauling

inert warjacks and behind a number of iron-banded andbarred wagons resembling prisoner transports. These

displayed the sigils of the Greylords Covenant and

contained dozens of doom reavers. Regular soldiers were

already descending from the front wagons and being

swiftly assigned to tents among the forest encampment

by ranking ofcers. These were reinforcements brought

in to ll the ranks of war-ravaged kompanies. Grim-faced

arcanists in fur hats and coats assembled outside the doom

reaver transports, awaiting orders. The doom reavers

themselves would be ofoaded and bivouacked under

Greylord supervision, assigned to isolated tents. Through

the wagons slatted window, she observed Obavnik

Kommander Zerkova, who had led the convoys military

escort, disembark from one of the forward wagons to give

the ranking Greylord ofcers their orders.

The army encampment was bustling with activity, and notonly among those wearing the uniforms of the Motherland.

A portion of the encampment was dominated by soldiers

attired in blue, gold, and whiteCygnarans, who watched

the arrival of the Khadoran reinforcements warily. A single

hooded form stepping down from one unmarked wagon

was easy to overlook.

Those with an attentive eye might have noted something

signicant was happening at the largest command tent,

adjacent to the new arrivals. This was a place set aside for

meetings between ofcers of the two allied armies. More

soldiers than usual were posted around its perimeter,

among them several Man-O-Wars and elite Iron Fangs from

highly decorated units. Also present were heavily armored

Cygnaran knights, both Stormblades and Stormguard, and

though their voltaic weapons were dormant at the moment,

a blue glow simmered within each. Some of the knightswore armor that gleamed silver, bereft of the typical blue.

Several warjacks rumbled at either end of the tent,

their numbers divided exactly between Cygnaran and

Khadoran machines. She noted that this precise parity

continued among the tents watchful guardians, which

included among them a battle-seasoned warcaster from

each side. Every man standing guard around the tent was

tense and wary.

Before she stepped down from the wagon the slim woman

had been stopped by a hesitant sound from another

passenger, a much older man sitting partially in theshadows. Though aged, he retained a robust frame and

there was an alert gleam to his eyes when the light caught

them. You are certain you do not want me to join you?

I am sure, she said rmly, though her eyes offered

the barest smile. We will speak afterward. You worry

overmuch.

Of course I do, he said with a sigh. He spoke in that rare

tone reserved for when he wished her to think of him as

family. But you have heard my warnings already. I will not

tire you with their repetition.

Good, she said. She knew all too well the risks she wastaking, yet she also knew how vital it was to be here. I am

nowhere safer than here with my ofcers, my countrymen.

His look suggested he could think of several more secure

locations, but he held his tongue.

As she approached the opening of the tent, she saw, as she

had requested, the hulking presence of a certain warcaster.

He stood leaning part of his weight against his great axe, the

butt of its shaft set into the soil. Sensing movement, he turned

to face her with a scowl. She pulled back her hood, revealing

her face. On her brow was the simplest of her crowns. The

nearest guards immediately turned to her, removed their

helmets, and bowed deeply. An expression of wonderment

crossed the face of Orsus Zoktavir before he, too, bowed,

lowering himself as far as his thick armor would allow. She

inclined her head slightly to him and laid a hand on his

shoulder as she walked past him and into the tent.

It was a large space, intended to accommodate dozens of

ofcers together with their accompanying clerks and aides

as well as a large table and several desks. The furniture had

SHE SET HER LIPS AND FACED

HIM SQUARELY, SEEING BEFORE

HER ONE OF THE GREATEST

ENEMIES OF HER PEOPLE.


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8


it to hearing a southerner speak Khadoran. He added, Let

us speak without unnecessary formality.

She stepped forward a pace and he did the same,

allowing them to address one another more comfortably

and discreetly. She kept her expression carefully blank,

revealing none of her loathing. Once she would have

thought the only way she would ever stand so close tothis man was with him in irons, her prisoner, begging for

mercy. A pleasing image.

Yes, she said. Let us not waste time on idle pleasantries.

He indicated the eld chairs. Would you like to sit?

I prefer to stand, she said. We both know why we are

here: to discuss the strange alliance our armies entered

into unbidden.

He nodded, pensive. After a pause, he said, We nd

ourselves in an unusual circumstance, one that has never

arisen between our two nations.

She said, You should know, before all else, that I did not

consent to ally. Given the circumstances it is clear that

neither did you. Those who made this bargain might be

deemed guilty of treason and could be executed in bothour nations. It is only the extraordinary circumstances and

the supreme kommandants value to me that forestalled

my hand. I am still weighing whether I should proclaim

this alliance null and void.

His eyes widened. He replied carefully, While it is true

that I was also taken by surprise by this arrangement,

my commanding ofcers have my utmost condence. I

understand the reasons they chose as they did. The enemy

we face makes other enmities seem paltry. If Cryx prevails,

all suffer.

Ayns lips compressed. She did not consider the claims of

the Khadoran Empire and twelve centuries of grievances

paltry . She said, It was natural for your generals to beg for

help. None can fault them. Your city was in ames, your

citizens slaughtered. Your army was not strong enough to

protect them. It must have been difcult for your generals

to ask aid of those they blamed for their suffering.

Letos expression darkened. Yes, he said softly. Point

Bourne would not have been vulnerable to Cryx had your

army not cracked its walls and invaded its streets. Despite

this, I do not hold you to blame for what transpired

at Cryx's hands. We have been at war for a long time.

Khadors objectives were military ones, and I believe your

forces would have treated the civilians with honor. But

whereas you seek conquest, Cryx seeks annihilation and

eternal enslavement. Those who fall to the lich lords cannot

even nd peace in death. Your men saw terrible things inthe streets of Point Bournepure evil, unadulterated by

politics or mortal ambition. Your ofcers reacted as any

sane person would have. The living must stand against the

undead. So was this alliance born, as a means to counter

the darkness. I see this as a moment of clarity and sanity.

Ayn was not unmoved, though her face did not show it.

She could not help but imagine the same fate aficting her

people. Cryx had stretched its skeletal claws north before.

Port Vladovar had suffered under its assault. Its horrors

had even deled her own cathedral in Korsk. Still, this

was no time for compassion. She said, War is harsh and

innocents suffer. You hold me to blame for the deaths of

thousands of your countrymen: in Llael, at Northguard,

in Point Bourne. Neither can I forget the spilled blood of

countless sons and daughters of the Motherland slain as a

result of your commands. It would be foolish to pretend

to be friends.

I do not seek your friendship, Leto said. But our path

and cause are for the moment aligned.

So you are decided that you wish to extend this alliance,

even knowing it will not end the bitter enmity between our

people? It gave her some satisfaction to see the pained

look in his face at her blunt speech.

Leto continued in a measured tone, There are deep

grievances between our peoples, ones not easily put aside.

I still think it worth the attempt. If afterward a resumption

of war is needed to resolve them, I will accept that. But

not now. Not today, or tomorrow, or any day Cryx holds

a portion of the mainland. We should agree to a period of

extended cooperation terminating only when Cryx is driven

from these lands. We can resume our discussion then.

Ayn narrowed her eyes. She said, What do we gain from

this cooperation? Certainly Cryx is terrible. We have

fought them before and will again. I am uncertain if it isto our benet to tie our fate to yours. We should discuss

real terms. In any negotiation there is a stronger and a

weaker party. The weaker must compromise and satisfy

the stronger.

At last she had broken his calm demeanor; she saw anger

flash in his eyes for the first time. Terms? This is not a

peace negotiation. We are not surrendering. The issue is

whether we can save thousands of lives by cooperating

WHEREAS YOU SEEK CONQUEST,

CRYX SEEKS ANNIHILATION AND

ETERNAL ENSLAVEMENT.


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to eliminate a threat that faces your nation as much as it

does mine.

She found it reassuring to see a break in the serene veneer

he preferred. She said, Those are noble sentiments, but

it is misleading to suggest Cryx is as much a threat to us

as they are to you. They dwell off your western shores,

and ours are only rarely troubled. Now that we are awareof the extent of the problem in the Thornwood, it will be

dealt with.

The recent defeat of our combined armies suggests

otherwise, Leto said. You do not have the luxury of time

to assemble a greater army here. We know this enemy. They

are deeply entrenched. If not extracted now, they will only

extend their hold. For the moment we have an advantage,

won at great cost: we have learned the disposition of the

enemy. We have found their heart. Give them time to adapt,

and their vulnerability will vanish. They can recover more

swiftly than we can. Combining our forces now is the only

way to ensure we can root Cryx out before it becomesimpossible. This foe relies on fear and hesitation. He

spoke with rising energy and conviction.

Near the end, however, she saw him open his mouth to

say something else before he apparently thought better

of it. What was he withholding? His hesitation called to

mind reports from her spies regarding a recent clash in

Ordic territory along the Dragons Tongue River, west

of Point Bourne. Something significant had transpired

there, she was sure; the Cygnarans eagerness to resume

the fight in the Thornwood had followed immediately

thereafter. She also knew many Cygnaran nobles were

increasingly restless, almost defiant. The southernerswere near the breaking point, which made her loath to do

anything to bolster them.

Balanced against this was the recent and unexpected

visit from the Old Witch. More than anything else, it had

been this that had convinced her to risk her life to travel

to this forsaken place. The ancient crone had delivered

dire pronouncements regarding Cryx. She had said that

Ayn would regret ignoring the Thornwood. The annals

of Khardic and Khadoran sovereigns contained proof

of tragic calamities befalling those who disregarded

Zevanna Agha.

Did you feel that? King Leto asked abruptly. She frowned

and realized there was a growing vibration underfoot.

Each of them stepped back, but before they could even

raise a voice to shout an alarm the ground tore open with

a rumble and creatures of blackened steel ripped through

the earth to crawl up from below. Ayn stumbled briey

as she stepped back. She was scrambling to right herself

when something heavy landed in front of her, one of its

forelegs piercing the ground where she had just stood. Its

hunkering form was fronted by a freakish gaping mouth

lled with long bleached teeth, and along its lower jaw

gleamed a pair of hooked metal mandibles.

The outer wall of the tent tore open in a half-dozen places

as the guardians stationed around the perimeter reacted

to the disturbance. Even as the bonejack lunged for theempress, an Iron Fang moved to interpose himself. He

gave a choked cry as the creature hooked into his torso,

piercing his lower breastplate and driving upward into his

chest cavity. An Iron Fang kovnik put himself before her

next, driving the machine back with his axe.

A smaller, more spindly bonejack with a skeletal head

leapt at Leto, and he narrowly evaded, stepping to the

side. It shattered a table behind him, its sharpened foreleg

piercing the outer wall of the tent, before it whirled back

around, hissing through its open jaws. Then that side of

the tent was torn and more defenders poured in.

There was a roar and Ayn was pulled back as Orsus

Zoktavir strode past, his face red and livid. His great axe

was drawn back to strike. He pushed past the kovnik and

with a single great blow cut through the Helldiver, which

split apart with a shriek of protesting metal. The air of the

tent quickly became rank with necrotite as the machines

fuel reserves spilled across the ground. Orsus paid no

heed, giving a bellow and striking at the next Cryxian

thing in reach.

The entire tent was in uproar, and Ayn found herself being

ushered back and away as Khadoran soldiers converged.

Leto had a sword in hand, perhaps given him by one of hismen, and he drove its point through the skull of the Stalker

that had sought to skewer him. Undeterred, the machine

struck again as Leto moved aside. Then he, too, was pulled

back and surrounded by armored soldiers. Moving quickly

to the fore was Lord General Stryker, whose warcaster

armor lled the tents interior with sharp blue light and a

buzzing sound l ike angry bees.

Spectral forms continued to pour from the hole below the

tent, unnatural gures that seemed half shadow, attired

in strangely archaic armor and wielding long bladed

polearms. They struck down several of the nearest soldiers

before they were hacked apart. A cordon of Man-O-Warshocktroopers surrounded Ayn, shields locked tightly

together as they moved her back.

Wait! she commanded, refusing to be pulled entirely

away.

The nearby encampment had been thrown into tumult by

the attack and the air was lled with shouts, cries, and

barked orders. She saw Zoktavir annihilate another dark

machine and then turn without thinking toward Lord


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Irusk suspected he and Stryker shared some thoughts

in common, such as how mad it had been to allow their

sovereigns to meet here, in the Thornwood. Of course,

they could never have expected Cryx to nd a way to

attack so precisely. But each also had experience with the

stubborn resolve of a monarch set on a course of action.

Their respective rulers had chosen to meet despite all

warnings and objections.

You have a plan to neutralize Cryxs advantages? Stryker

asked, folding his arms.

We do, Irusk afrmed. We put the best minds of the

Greylords Covenant to the task. They have analyzed

this fortress and its mystical workings. The lich lords

necromancy is based on Orgoth principles, which our

arcanists understand very well.

No doubt, Stryker said, with narrowed eyes.

Irusk ignored the implied condemnation. Now that

we better apprehend their defenses, we can attack withgreater effectiveness. We intend to approach deliberately,

laying down extensive re on their xed positions as we

encircle the perimeter.

We will lend our own cannons to that effort, Stryker

noted.

Irusk nodded. He continued, I intend to shell the area for

several days before we begin our main approach. Naturally

the enemy will attack our artillery positions, but we will

advance in formations to protect them. The Cryxians

have extensive underground facilities, so shelling will

accomplish only so muchits purpose will be primarilyto allow us to seize the perimeter with limited losses. Once

we control the surrounding ground, we can approach the

tower more systematically.

What of the fortress itself? Its supernatural defenses are

formidable.

Its strongest protections rely on fresh souls. It is

absolutely vital we limit initial casualties. Every death

in proximity of the fortress outer spires will make them

stronger. He tapped a sketch showing the known layout

of Cryxs outer defenses.

Stryker said, The power wielded by those emplacementsbehaved similarly to voltaic energy. Our stormsmiths

described it as necromantic lightning.

That ts. Irusk nodded. Some of the external structures

of the complex serve as conduits for this power. He

traced those areas on the sketch. Before we allow our

armies to close on the main tower, we need to disable these

necromantic spires.

There are dozens of them, Stryker said.

The Greylords theorize we can disable the system by a

focused two-pronged attack, Irusk noted. We will send

one special vanguard here, to destroy this building we

believe serves as a surface conduit to the southern spires. I

have a force picked for this, comprised primarily of doom

reavers and warjacks. Those should be immune to thenecromantic defenses. Kommander Orsus Zoktavir will

lead them. Their deaths will still empower the complex,

but that cannot be avoided. We will use as few as we can.

Simultaneously, I need you to bring a concentration of

voltaic weaponry here. He pointed to a portion of the

complex on the opposite side. If we can deliver a great

surge of voltaic energy into the system at this northern

conduit not long after the southern one is destroyed, the

connections between the spires should overload, perhaps

even harming the central fortress itself.

This is the recommendation of your Greylords? Stryker

asked, clearly skeptical.

Yes. Their theories are sound, I believe. It will be risky.

After a moment the Cygnaran warcaster nodded. Whilewe reserve our strength the entire Cryxian army will seek

to slaughter those sent forward.

True, Irusk said. I will go over detailed plans to divert

the foe and provide covering re to the forward elements.

With just the numbers we have gathered, even the recent

reinforcements, I would not hold our chances of success

very high. But we will not be alone. A messenger has

brought word of additional forces from the north. I am

working to time their arrival to coincide with our main

assault.

Stryker frowned. He asked, Reinforcements from

Merywyn?

Irusk offered a tight smile. Not directly. From Umbrey

and Leryn. When the lord general shot him a sharp look,

Irusk added, Great Prince Tzepesci brings his vassals.

With them comes Hierarch Severius and his Northern

Crusade. He saw the blood drain from the Cygnarans

face. Severius was persuaded by the great prince to lend

his strength against Cryx.

THEIR RESPECTIVE RULERS

HAD CHOSEN TO MEET

DESPITE ALL WARNINGS AND

OBJECTIONS.


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An acrid stench lled his nostrils, and he choked on the

sulfur and ash that lled the air. The muddy ground was

treacherous, yet he had no trouble nding purchasehe

was rushing toward the enemy, and the ground always

favored him in battle. His mind was lled with the barking

of his argus and the susurrations of the fell blades around

him. They made the perfect cadence within which to

deliver obliteration.

The heavy blades of the doom reavers swung into motion

as they reached the wall of thralls. They hacked through

the walking dead even as the rune-covered thralls began

to raise their giant sts to retaliate. Helljacks and bonejacks

loomed behind the forward ranks, unleashed from the

blackened fortress at the center of the green-glowing spires.

Flickering emerald energy surged across the talon-like

spires surrounding the structure, ashing in time to the

surging clouds above. Green re lashed out from the spires

like whips, each dispersing just before reaching a doom

reaver. It was as though the chanting of the gaping mouths

along the sides of their Orgoth blades was disrupting the

balere before it could land.

Orsus felt nearly alone amid a eld of undeath. Other than the

doom reavers, which were offered as sacrices to the mission,

his army was not at his side; they had remained behind. The

soldiers were afraid of balere and did not want to risk their

souls. He understood this fear, though he himself felt only a

familiar blend of rage and joy.

The soldiers of the Motherland were providing what support

they could by indirect re. Destroyers and mortars sent shells

arcing high into the air to come shrieking down in thunderous

explosions amid the enemy ranks. The rest of the armywould close after he had done his part. He could hear the

clash of battle elsewhere as Sorscha, Zerkova, Irusk, and the

various Cygnaran battlegroups directed their forces against

Cryxians that had been drawn out to the wider perimeter.

None were willing to close on the fortress. By going where

the others would not, Orsus had drawn the Cryxians to him

like hornets swarming from their nest.

Several doom reavers on his left were washed with caustic bile.

They staggered as their esh was melted through, and then

their bodies dissolved into steaming sludge. Their souls were

wrenched from their dying bodies, howling and gibbering as

they were collected by the nearest spire. He directed one of

his Juggernauts to trample through those bile thralls, which

exploded wetly underfoot.

A Slayer loped forward between the ranks of thralls

ahead, unleashing an unholy howl of steam as it came

at him, anked by Deathrippers. His eyes burned with

power and his axe lit are with blue light. He sounded

a short note on his war horn and the argus leapt together

to confront the bonejack on the left, their fangs ashing in

the light. It was a nimble machine, snapping with its own

necromechanikally augmented jaws. It sidestepped the

rst argus but not the twin heads of the second, which was

maddened and empowered by the Butchers rage. Their

teeth tore through metal plates and ripped the bonejacks

head from its body, shaking it to send pieces ying.

The Slayer came for him, swiping its claws, but his axecrashed into its torso rst. The impact drove through the

armored ribcage to lodge deep into the helljacks cortex.

He yanked the weapon free amid a spray of sparks and

greenish ichor even as the Slayers left arm clawed at

him, its metal talons skidding across his power eld. He

hacked into its armpit, shearing through its shoulder and

arm to the torso, then scrambled to the side as the helljack

toppled. The second Deathripper launched itself to snap

down on his armored left forearm. He yanked it free as

the metal began to buckle and pinch his skin. A backswing

with Lola sent the machine tumbling, skittering on its

small legs to right itself. The pair of argus were upon it in

a moment and ended its twitching movements.

More helljacks were coming and he directed his warjacks

into them, letting their weight and momentum drive the

Cryxians back. At his urging the two Devastators opened

their armored shells to deliver an explosive barrage,

obliterating both the jacks and the thralls nearest them.

Ruin, the new machine delivered to him by Zerkova,

waded into the battle as if it were another frenzied

berserker, its enormous mace glowing with power akin to

the necromantic gleam illuminating the helljacks and the

spires around him. He could feel the chanting of the relics

attached to its arms ringing within his mind.The red haze threatened his vision, like blood seeping into

his eyes. Orsus clenched his teeth and held madness at

bay. The chorus of voices from the fell blades reached a

crescendo around him as Fenris charged past astride his

demented steed, one accursed blade in each hand.

He was close enough to the main tower to see a gure at

the apex, standing on a platform and surrounded by a

runic halo. This was Lich Lord Asphyxious, who seemed

capable of guiding the attacking forces from a great

distance, no doubt aided by the talon-like spires. The lich

lords dark intelligence gleamed behind the endish eyes

of the Cryxian helljacks. Orsus wanted to surrender to

the rising tide of violence and drive onward to confront

Asphyxious. Nothing would please him more than to see

the lich lord hacked into a bent and twisted heapbut he

had a different purpose.

Another squad of bile thralls closed from his left ank.

Galloping soulhunters circled around the right side.

Those that came too far forward fell under re from the

Khadorans behind Zoktavir. He could sense cortexes in


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16


motion and knew a freshly delivered Victor colossal and

the Behemoth were marching forward, directed by Irusk

and Sorscha respectively, each lending repower against

the foe. Shells dug deep craters where they struck, and

the twisted, horselike bodies of two soulhunters were torn

apart in one forceful blast.

Ahead rose an enormous machine with long tentacle-likearms. It could only be one of the Cryxian colossals he had

been told ofa Kraken. It moved with surprising speed

on insectoid legs as its long tendrils snaked out to seize

one doom reaver after another. Orsus gave a battle cry, his

vision entirely crimson, and gripped Lola in both hands.

He charged the colossal while runes surrounded him to

empower his straining leg muscles. Ruin and his battered

Juggernaut came with him. He set his Devastators to reload

and re their grenade launchers again, hoping to clear the

anks. He paid no mind to the doom reavers, leaving them

to be shepherded by Fenris. Each would inict a toll before

he fell. A number of ying bonejacks peeled off from the

heights of the central tower and sped to intercept.

One of the extended tentacles of the colossal struck

for him like a metal serpent and crashed against the

brightened hemisphere of his power field. He lashedout with a sweep of his axe with contemptuous ease,

as if he were slapping the hand of a giant. Lola cleaved

through the machinery at the end of the limb, sending

pieces of metal flying. Another of the Krakens tendrils

struck his Juggernaut, wrapped it in its coils, and sent

the warjack hurtling away through the air until it crashed

and tumbled end-over-end. The Cryxian colossals belly

cannon spat sharpened steel at him, and he snarled as a

piece tore through the armor at his waist. Consumed by

anger and drenched in adrenaline, he felt no pain.

Ruin reached the larger machine and struck a powerful

blow, tearing through and buckling the metal on oneof its forward legs. The argus at Orsus left veered off

to intercept a brute thrall coming for him. He hardly

noticed, his focus entirely on the Cryxian colossal. Ruins

shattering of its front left leg had caused it to wobble, and

it leaned forward as its great gears churned and it worked

to recover its balance.

A ring of runes surrounded Orsus as his magic poured

through him. He leapt through the air, axe raised above his

head, and then brought it down. The power he channeled

blazed along his arms, his entire body become a projectile

with Lola at the fore. The axe blade parted steel with a

whine when he struck and then fell downward, all his

weight upon Lolas haft as the blade carved a gash almost

ten feet long down the front of the colossal. He tumbled

under an awkward retaliatory strike from its remaining

tendrils claw. Another blow of his axe exploded throughmetal and shattered the innards of the machine. Alongside

him, his warjacks battered it repeatedly. It toppled,

swayed, and fell in a resounding crash.

Other helljacks would be coming. He had kept one of his

Marauders in reserve, following behind. He sent it forward

now to obliterate the conduit. As it got up to speed, he

reached forth his left hand, which was surrounded by

gleaming arcane runes, and then clenched his st. With

all his will he unleashed an eruption of rending energy

into the target, creating an explosion that momentarily

deafened him and caused the ground to buckle. A portion

of the stone and metal foundation blasted free, and a hail

of debris littered the area. His power eld ebbed.

The Marauder hit a moment later, driving its steam-

powered ram pistons into the structure. Orsus sent what

power he had left into the machine, urging it to batter

the building and its necromantic machinery to oblivion.

Greenish power wrapped around the warjack and erupted

outward from the building. Then there was a keening

sound that ended in a tremendous fountain of sparks, and

a number of the nearest fortress spires suddenly darkened,

no longer fueled by the energy that normally fed them.

He had done his part. Now there was only to survive longenough for his army to reach him. He saw more bonejacks

and helljacks clambering toward him across the torn,

pocked ground. He raised his hunting horn to deliver a

single long, sustained note.

For a moment the red haze before his eyes receded and his

memories returned to him, lling him with pain and grief .

He clenched his sts and felt Lolas haft within them, and

then he looked to the horde of onrushing enemies. Setting

his stance, he adjusted his grip on the axe and whispered,

Ill be with you soon, my love. But not yet.

NOTHING WOULD PLEASE HIM

MORE THAN TO SEE THE

LICH LORD HACKED INTO A

BENT AND TWISTED HEAP.


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THEME FORCES AND CEPHALYX RULES

CEPHALYX

WARCASTERSCephalyx warcasters do not control battlegroups of

warjacks. Instead they control forces of surgically altered,

mechanically enhanced giants colloquially known asmonstrosities.

CEPHALYX WARCASTER

SPECIAL RULES

Cephalyx warcasters can control only monstrosities and

cannot control warjacks. A Cephalyx warcaster can allocate

focus points to monstrosities in his battlegroup as if they

were warjacks. A Cephalyx warcasters warjack points can

be used on monstrosities even though they are not warjacks.

In addition to their other special rules as warcasters,

Cephalyx warcasters have the following special rule:

HEALING

At any time during its activation, this model can spend focus

points to heal damage a monstrosity in its battlegroup that is

in its control area has suffered. For each focus point spent this

way, remove 1 damage point.

MONSTROSITIESMonstrosities are classied according to base size a light

monstrosity has a medium base (40 mm), and a heavy

monstrosity has a large base (50 mm). Even though it is

assigned to a specic battlegroup, each monstrosity is an

independent model.

MONSTROSITY

SPECIAL RULES

Monstrosities are not warjacks and do not have a cortex.

Monstrosities can be controlled only by Cephalyx warcasters.

Monstrosities are living models.

Monstrosities are so utterly dominated by their Cephalyx

masters that they lack even the rudimentary capacity for

free will required to form bonds.

Additionally, monstrosities have the following special rules:

DAMAGE GRID

Monstrosities have damage grids like warjacks.

DESTROYED MONSTROSITY

When a destroyed monstrosity is removed from the table it

is not replaced with a wreck marker.

FEARLESS

Though it does not appear on their stat lines, all monstrosities

have the Fearless advantage.

BRAIN

This model can be allocated focus. This model can have no

more than 3 focus points at any time as a result of allocation.

This limit does not apply to focus gained by means other

than allocation.

Unless otherwise stated, this model can spend focus only

during its activation.

FOCUS: ADDITIONAL ATTACK

This model can spend focus to make additional melee or

ranged attacks as part of its combat action. It can make oneadditional attack for each focus point spent.

FOCUS: BOOST

This model can spend 1 focus point to boost any of its attack

rolls or damage rolls during its activation. Add an extra die

to the boosted roll. Boosting must be declared before rolling

any dice for the roll.

FOCUS: SHAKE

During your Control Phase after allocating focus, if this model

is knocked down it can spend 1 focus point to stand up.

During your Control Phase after allocating focus, if thismodel is stationary it can spend 1 focus point to cause the

stationary status to expire.

MONSTROSITY POWER ATTACKS

This model can make power attacks. When a monstrosity

performs a power attack or a model performs a power attack

against a monstrosity, follow the WARMACHINE: Prime

rules as if the monstrosity were a warjack. All monstrosities

can make the slam, head-butt, and push power attacks.

Heavy monstrosities can make the trample power attack.

On a monstrositys damage grid, the following letters

represent the monstrositys systems:

B: Brain

L: Left arm weapons system

R: Right arm weapons system

H: Head weapons system

M: Movement

A monstrosity with a crippled brain (B system) loses

any focus points on it and cannot be allocated focus

points. It cannot spend focus points for any reason.

Monstrosities with crippled left arms, right arms, heads,

or movement suffer the same penalties as warjacks do

(see WARMACHINE: Prime Mk II).

MONSTROSITY DAMAGE KEY


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POINT BOURNE INFIRMARY, 609 AR

Victoria Haley clenched and unclenched her right st. She

watched intently as her ngers folded toward her palm and

straightened again. Much had changed since her death and

restoration, but the re-creation of the limb she had lost solong ago held her attention above all else. She had become

accustomed to her metal prosthetic, and the feel of esh on esh

was oddly foreign.

At the foot of her bed, her new storm chamberpowered armor

stood upon an armor rack. General Nemo had completed the

suit during her illness in hopes of raising her spirits with the

promise of continued service as a warcaster, though she had

not believed that would happen. Now she was glad he had

taken the time to craft the suit. Its presence, and the insignia on

the right shoulder that marked her as a major, conrmed her

continuing place in Cygnars ranks.

She and Nemo had discussed much after her unexpected

restoration. The relic Strykers forces had recovered from the

Cryxian column, the current state of the alliance with Khador

these events were pieces of the same puzzle. Nemo had left

Point Bourne the previous day to rendezvous with the armies

gathering in the southern Thornwood for a second possible

assault against Asphyxious, and she yearned to join them.

A soft knock sounded on the door, and Vigilant Peer Carrick

Dolan stepped into the room. Dolan was the Church of Morrows

foremost expert on supernatural afictions and poisons, and

despite Haleys protests that the debilitating poison she had

carried within her no longer plagued her body, he continued topester her. He did so on Nemos orders, as she well knew.

Still feeling right as Caspian rain? Dolan asked.

Never better, Haley replied.

Dolan chewed his lower lip and narrowed his eyes, looking her

over. I still cant understand it, he said after a moment. He

shook his head. Id like to run a few more tests and keep an eye

on you for a while longer.

More tests? Haley asked, indignant. Theres a war on, if you

hadnt noticed.

Major Haley, the fact that you survived the poison isremarkable; I dont mind saying you surprised us all. But

though I appreciate your contributions to the war effort, the war

is not my primary concern. The well-being of my patients is.

She sighed and waved him on, and he went about his

examination. She knew he would nd no sign of the poison

or its effects. In truth, Haley accepted these intrusions because

they gave her an opportunity to conduct an examination of

her own.

As she had done half a dozen times before, Haley relaxed

her mind as well as her eyes and focused her attention on

Dolan. A slender, ethereal thread glowing gold seemed

to materialize from Dolans chest and oated there as he

worked. She knew he couldnt see it. For a moment theglowing strand faded, and Haley redoubled her efforts.

The thread brightened and revealed more of itself, weaving

from Dolan to the doorway and the hall beyond. There it

split in two, one part leading left and the other right. Even

through the thick stone walls she could see the luminous

strands branching again at other junctions.

Dolan nished and said something about rest before heading

to the door. Haley nodded absently. As he spoke, the thread

leading to the right faded, together with all its branches. A

choice had been made, extinguishing a series of possibilities.

Dolan turned left, closing the door behind him.

Haley slid from the bed and crossed to the window. Dolan

wouldnt be back soon; none of his threads led in her direction.

Outside, the damage wrought by the invading Khadorans and

Cryxians lingered over Point Bourne like a pall. Displaced

citizens and soldiers roamed the streets, collecting bricks in

wheelbarrows and hauling supplies alongside laborjacks.

Haley focused on the thin strands of energy owing from

the people toiling below. Gradually, the threads came into

existence, rst hundreds and then thousands viewed through

the foundations of buildings in the same way she had seen

Dolans threads. She swayed momentarily and held the

window frame for support as the multitude of decision lines

washed over her.

Great spools of threads wove about churches and the makeshift

eld hospitals housing the injured. She let most of them go to

focus on oneher ownwhich wound through the streets,

though not in the direction she had imagined it would.

South? Haley asked aloud. She had expected to be drawn

north, toward the Thornwood. She focused harder, gripping

the windowsill. Her thread was faint and very difcult to

follow, but she saw it, pulled taut like wire and strained to the

breaking point as it stretched off to the Wyrmwall Mountains.

She gasped to see a roaring black vortex there that swallowed

the mountain tops some presence far beyond any mortal fate.

Her thread vanished into its dark heart, a prospect she found

terrifying but also alluring. Something pulled at her mind,

drawing her there. When she turned away, under her relief lay

an undeniable certainty.

She turned to the armor that until her restoration she had

expected to never wear and reached for it with her mind,

effortlessly lifting it into the air. By the time anyone came to

check on her, she would be long gone.

THREADS OF FATE


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CENTRAL THORNWOOD, NEAR THE

CENTRAL NECROFACTORIUM

The rhythmic sound of mortar re grew louder as the combined

force of the Northern Crusade and the Umbrean army neared

the valley where the Cryxian stronghold was under assault.Upon the approach, the Umbrean cavalry had spread to the

right while Menite vengers went left to climb the hills and gain

the superior vantage. From there, they would be able to charge

down to join the fray when ordered. The long column of infantry

had proceeded through a narrow entrance to the valley.

Severius rode atop a palanquin resembling a golden throne,

resplendent in his scrutator mask, warcaster armor, and

gleaming vestments. Although a lifetime of service had taken

its toll on his body, the hierarch took pleasure in spending

his twilight years crusading in the name of the Creator. High

Exemplar Kreoss rode on his right, and several Protectorate

warjacks strode alongside. On his left rode the UmbreanVladimir Tzepesci; the great princes warjacks were with his

soldiers at a distance.

Vile things have long ourished in this dark forest,

Vladimir said, speaking serviceable Sulese. We thought we

had uprooted the corruption. Clearly we were mistaken.

Severius said, The light of the Creator shines brightest in

the darkest places. We will cleanse these lands with faith

and resolve.

I am not certain you have taken a proper measure of our foe.

The faithful have faced Cryx before. We will force themback. The palanquin dipped slightly as its bearers struggled

against the tangle of roots.

I thought the same when I discovered their foothold here

years ago. The concentration of their strength is greater than

you imagine. The prince faced forward as he spoke, eyes

scanning the thick trees. Severius admired his vigilance. It

was a shame the man was a heretic, carrying the tainted

blood of his line and dancing on the puppet strings of the Old

Witch. With the proper guidance and willingness to forsake

his legacy he might have made a good Menite.

I read the reports of the Battle of the Temple Garrodh,Severius said. The Cryxian armies there were all but

destroyed, swallowed by the earth.

So many thought, including our kommandants as well as

Cygnaran commanders. We underestimated the enemy.

Such evil must be seen rsthand to be fully comprehended.

I also read of your signicant role in the events surrounding

the temple. The hierarchs words carried an edge, for it was

Vladimir who had struck down the Harbinger at the height

of the conict.

Vladimir nodded, focusing his gaze elsewhere. I saw more

than enough, yes. I only regret I could not cleanse this place

fully. I would not rely on reports, especially given the recent

information. I feel this time is different.

Since starting south to join the forces amassing in the

Thornwood, the great prince had done what he could

to maintain communication with Khadors supreme

kommandant, Irusk, to coordinate their movements for the

coming engagement. The plan outlined a joint effort with the

Cygnarans, calling upon Severius and Vladimir to launch an

assault from the north at his signal. Although the hierarch

had said nothing, such orders were of no consequence to the

forces of the crusade. Perhaps the Cygnarans were content to

follow the commands of their northern rivals, but Severius

would assess the situation upon his arrival.

Another round of mortar re sounded, and the crackle ofries carried on the wind. The battleeld lay just ahead.

Let us see what it is we face, Severius said.

The sound of war became deafening as they passed the last few

blackened trees and he beheld the scene before them. Severius

stood on his palanquin, his scalp tightening as a chill played

along his spine. Below lay a valley of death, within which

nothing natural remainednot grass, nor trees, nor the trickle

of streams. The stench of decay and necrotite choked the air.

Dozens of enormous spires jutted from the ruined earth,

with masses of the dead swarming like insects beneath their

towering forms. Brilliant green light streaked from thesespires to lash the hills, drawing the hierarchs gaze to the

embattled forces there. Each blast tore agonized screams

from trenchers and Winter Guard alike as it snuffed out their

lives and snatched their souls to be fed to the necrofactorium,

the promise of Urcaen lost to them forever. In the depths of

this valley dwelled certain ruination.

Severius felt the spiritual void before him and ice owed

through his veins. It was one thing to know how Cryx abused

the souls of the fallen but another to see depravity on such a

scale with his own eyes. Every soul torn from esh here was

stolen from the Creator. Yet amid his horror shone a icker

of hope looking upon the desperate battle, he understood

a way Cryxs gluttony for souls might eventually be turned

against them. Such a course would require great sacrice, but

the lich lords of Cryx would suffer a blow from which they

would not soon recover. Menoth had led him to this precipice

so he might observe something only his eyes could see.

Menoth give me strength, intoned the hierarch. He gripped

his staff, feeling a familiar re kindle within his breast despite

his age. In that moment he felt not despair but steadfast resolve.

He did not fear death, so long as his life served the Creator.

BEARING WITNESS


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SOUTHWESTERN THORNWOOD,

COMBINED ARMY ENCAMPMENT

Orsus Zoktavir clapped a massive hand to the closer of the

argus twin heads and smoothed its fur before cinching the

next strap of its armor. As he let go, the argus gave a bite tohis forearm and shook its head. This might have dislocated

the shoulder of a lesser man, but the Butcher of Khardov only

wrapped his free arm around the other head and applied

pressure until the rst relented.

While the rest of the camp bristled with preparations for the

upcoming battle, the corner Orsus and his men occupied

remained relatively quiet. Dozens of masked doom reavers

stood scattered around him. Fenris stood nearest, obscured

by the shadow of his nightmare steed. Orsus brooded, the

lingering anger over the recent attempt on Empress Vanars

life rst in his thoughts. He could not entirely dispel the icy

feeling of dread that had lled his veins when he heard thesounds of violence within the tent where she was meeting the

Cygnaran king.

Orsus Zoktavir, said an authoritative feminine voice

behind him. He turned to nd Kommander Aleksandra

Zerkova, anked by a pair of reaver guards. The weapons

they bore were clearly of Orgoth origin. His eye was drawn

to an unknown warjack behind them, which emitted a low

rumble as exhaust rolled from its smokestacks.

Kommander Zerkova. Hed had little interaction with the

warcaster, but even among the secretive and manipulative

Greylords, Zerkova carried a particularly sinister reputation.The insignia on her tabard indicated a promotion to Obavnik,

one of the highest ranks within the Covenant.

She took in the lay of the camp with her good eye, the other

being scarred over by some past trauma. I come bearing

a gift from Khardov, Zerkova said. Her gaze returned to

him. Orsus felt as though she were mentally dissecting

him. The argus behind him growled, and the other came

alongside, sensing his unease. Zerkova merely indicated the

warjack rumbling behind her. The high obavnik arbiter has

granted you use of this machine in the coming battle. It is

one of a kind.

Suspicious, Orsus frowned but stepped closer and looked the

jack over. Its chassis resembled existing designs, but the relics

attached to it were another matter. One st gripped a huge

blackened mace, and the armored plate along the back of the

other st had been shaped from an ornate Orgoth buckler

and glowed with sinister power. Orgoth runes marked both

artifacts as well as other ornaments afxed to the machine

and the metal plates bolted to the cowling around its head.

He thought he could hear indistinct whispers and felt a

strong desire to connect with its cortex.

Does your high obavnik often give gifts? Orsus gave

Zerkova a sideways glance.

After a pause she said, Its name is Ruin. It has proven . . .

difcult to control. It crushed its controller during a eld testoutside Khardov and would heed no commands. Several

Greylords were likewise killed before it ran out of fuel.

Zerkova nodded to the argus and then Fenris. Given your

afnity for the untamable, the Covenant has deemed you

suitable to test its use in battle. Place your hand on the chassis.

I will relinquish my hold, though you must be quick to seize

the cortex. Ruin will not remain idle if left to its own devices.

Orsus ran a hand over the warjack. He felt a strange rapport

with the machine and its seething anger. Ruin, he said. A

good name. Why not claim it for yourself?

She gave him a tight smile. Orders are orders.

Orsus felt Zerkova surrender her bond to the cortex. Almost

immediately the warjack hunkered and raised its arms to

readiness. It pulled back its mace, but the arm froze as Orsus

plunged his mind into its cortex, swiftly delivering the code

images to seize control. He had done this countless times, but

this felt very different. Whispers suddenly ooded his mind, as

though he were surrounded by a legion of ghosts. For a moment

it was as if his mind were not his own. Rage lled him and

he felt a strong urge to seize the haft of his axe. He restrained

himself with effort, gritting his teeth to force the voices to quiet.

You see? Zerkova asked softly. Only the strongest

warcasters can endure it.

He asked, You will ght alongside me in the assault? It was

clear she desired the machine. She hoped to see him perish so

she could reclaim it. He intended to see her disappointed, to

master this machine.

She frowned. As much as I would enjoy joining you in

seizing the necrofactorium and plumbing its depths, I have

other duties. I am to stay at Empress Vanars side.

Orsus inched as if struck. Once again he saw the empress

stumbling as a death-fueled construct lunged at her. That

he hadnt been chosen to oversee her safety opened an old

wound in his mind. What? Why? The words sounded

more hostile than he had intended.

Zerkova looked to Ruin and back. There are times we must

obey and play the role given us. Her tone was cold and

suggested a meaning he did not apprehend. Of course she

must obey the empress. To do otherwise was unthinkable.

Without another word, the obavnik turned and walked away,

her reaver guards following. A strong wind pulled at her coat

and the scattered tents. Orsus barely heard its howl over the

whispers lling his mind.

UNTAMABLE


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UNFORESEEN CIRCUMSTANCESIOS, NORTHEAST OF SHYRR

The hooves of undead mounts battered the forest oor in a

swift yet silent gait as the ethereal forms barreled through

trees and undergrowth to carry their riders ever deeper

into Ios. Goreshade had set out from Eversael two daysearlier with a host of eldritch and banes riding at his back.

His circuitous route to the capital had swung them north

and west in hopes of avoiding undue attention, but even

proceeding with caution they had still needed to actively

evade far-reaching patrols. That they were not alone in their

incursion, however, was soon apparent.

They discovered the smoldering ruins of a village late in the

rst day. Near midday on the second, they spotted several

columns of smoke rising into the sky far to the north. Here and

there, the thralls riding at the northernmost limits of the group

came upon tracks of both men and beasts.

Warriors from across the sands, Goreshade said as they

reined in their mounts in the forest outside a village. He

had diverted their course to inspect the source of smoke

nearby, and now they watched through the trees as pale,

armored soldiers in red and gold torched the remaining

structures and clapped survivors in irons. Thick chains ran

from one set of wrists to the next, and the steady crack of

whips forced the prisoners into orderly lines. Although

Goreshades knowledge of the marauders was secondhand,

he recognized them as skornethe same vicious race that

had pursued his people in their exodus from Lyoss after the

destruction of the Bridge of Worlds.

An invasion! Where are the Dawnguard? Lothvyn asked

from Goreshades side. Despite his initial hostility, the former

Silowuyr nobles disposition had changed considerably after

he had been bested beneath the ruins of Eversael. Thus far,

the eldritch had proven himself knowledgeable of the areas

comings and goings despite his exile, and Goreshade felt no

regret at sparing his existence.

Hiding, Goreshade said, his voice heavy with disdain for

the self-righteous knights of House Nyarr who traditionally

protected this region. His gaze lingered over the column of

Iosans being led from the village, youths and even some few

children among them. Cowering behind their walls whilethose who depend on them fall prey to barbarians. His race

had grown weak in his absence, and the thought of the once-

great people falling to outside aggression goaded him deeply.

They stay comfortable in their strongholds, abandoning the

rest to ruin, Lothvyn said.

Hearing this from a fallen member of House Silowuyr, whose

members dedicated themselves purely to the defense of Shyrr,

grated on Goreshade. What ofyou? he snapped. How many

centuries did you spend hiding in Eversael before I came to

drag you out kicking and screaming? He looked to each

eldritch in turn. The Dawnguard are short-sighted imbeciles.

But yousome of the greatest minds of your time!you have

no excuse for years of cowardly inaction.

The words hit their mark. Lothvyn hissed and looked toward

the village, drawing his weapon, and several other eldritch

followed suit. We will prove our resolve, he said.

No! Goreshade said sharply. At least, not yet. We must

know more. This force is but a raiding party.

Once the last of the skorne and their captives had departed

the village, Goreshade urged his steed from among the trees.

Lothvyn and the other eldritch followed, Suneater and his

bane thralls trailing behind. Black smoke swirled around

them before billowing into the sky in a fountain of ash. A

roof collapsed with a crash, and a cloud of sparks rose from

beneath it to are and die. Tracks lay thick upon the ground.

Goreshade said, This group is too feeble to have made it

through the border on their own. From the smoke, it is clear

they intended to attract attention, though to what end?

We will be spotted ourselves if we are not careful, Lothvyn

said.

Goreshade guided his mount around the roaring remains of

the village, taking in the gruesome details. Here and there

limbs and heads lay on the ground near the Iosan bodies

they had been severed from, including some hands still

gripping the hilts of blades. There were no skorne corpses;if the attackers had suffered casualties, they had taken away

the fallen. Goreshades eyes narrowed. Too many questions

remained. The fact that this force was connected to an army

was all but certain.

His mind turned to the capital and its defenses. In all his

planning, dealing with Shyrrs defendersmost notably

House Silowuyrhad been least clear in his mind. The

presence of the skorne so near opened up a number of

possibilities.

We will follow these raiders and discover their intentions,

Goreshade said.

What of the capital? Lothvyn asked.

This will help prepare the way. Send word to our forces

beyond the border to make ready. We may need to seize an

opportunity at short notice.

Goreshade gripped the hilt of Voass, feeling the thrum of

power from the blade. Never had he been so close to achieving

his goals. Although the presence of the skorne was unexpected,

he felt condent he could accommodate for them in his plans.

If Ios must burn before it could be saved, so be it.


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IOS, EAST OF THE GATE OF MISTS

Two dozen of House Ellowuyrs nest swordsmen traveled an

ill-used path through the northern reaches of the Mistbough.

Each was committed to the rites and traditions of their house,

which bound them to their blades, to their ghting discipline,and to one another. Foreign invaders had brought war to Ios,

and their blood stirred. Boasts and promises conveyed their

excitement and apprehension alike.

Ive heard of new invasions north of the capital, said Rayl,

the youngest of the volunteers. Rumor has it the village

of Yren was enslaved and Shynl burned. Im surprised we

arent marching there.

The main skorne army threatens Iryss from the south,

coming through the Twilight Gate, sneered Fynar, a

bladesman of the rst mark. Thatis where we go. Leave the

north to the dogs of Nyarr. The loss of those villages is theirshame, not ours.

Rayl reected that these incursions were a mark against all

the great military houses but only said, I wonder which

coalition houses well be ghting alongside.

Worried? asked Melyna, to his left. She walked with a

nonchalant stride, her blade balanced across her thin shoulders.

Rayl shrugged. Curious. What about you?

No. We have him. Melyna nodded toward Thyron at the head

of the column. He loomed over the other warriors, his cape

and ornate helmet suggesting his noble standing, with a pair

of large, graceful myrmidons in Ellowuyr colors anking him.

The nobles skill with the blade combined with his warcaster

talent and leadership made him a unique asset. Rayl had

seen the issyr best several adept opponents simultaneously,

demonstrating awless technique and blinding speed.

The path turned and they reached a clearing occupied only

by the ruins of a watchtower. From here the trail split, one

strand heading west to Iryss while the other disappeared

deeper into the Mistbough. Thyron raised a hand and

brought the column to a halt. He climbed atop the remains of

a low wall and looked out over the gathered Ellowuyr elite.

My brothers and sisters, I hold each of you in tremendousregard for volunteering to join me. Before we proceed, I need

to clarify our situation.

As you know, our nation faces an invasion for the rst time

in history. We must draw upon every resource, employ every

tactic. Consul Brysor is limited by the political realities of

the Consulate Court, and the majority of the warriors of our

house have been ordered to remain at Aeryth Ellowuyr to

guard the interior. That is not what I intend. It is in times like

these when a trusted few must serve in the consuls stead,

walking a path he cannot. Know that he is glad we are here,

though he cannot openly acknowledge this.

I march not to ght the enemy alone, nor to join the Homeguard

Coalition. Rather I have chosen to join those who we called our

rivals House Shyeel, House Vyreeven the Dawnguard of

House Nyarr. A murmur rippled through the warriors; each

of those houses was allied to the Retribution of Scyrah. Thyron

continued, This is not a temporary measure, nor is the choice

based solely on the enemy incursions. I have chosen to aid the

Retribution by any means necessary. The rest of our house may

never follow, though I am not alone in my thinking.

Silence hung over the soldiers. Rayl looked at the bewildered

faces around him. He knew individual nobles of some the

lesser houses had similarly gone over to the radical sect,

taking their liegemen. But they were House Ellowuyr, held to

a higher standard. Conicting emotions tightened his chest.He had never heard the Retribution spoken of with anything

but scorn and loathing. That Thyron embraced their cause

was beyond shocking, yet it also made him wonder if his

own presumptions had been wrong.

I know your loyalty, but I do not order you to join me. This

decision is yours alone, and you are free to turn back. I would

only say that some threats must be confronted to avoid a

greater disaster. Blood spared on the front will be exacted

tenfold from the innocent in our cities. Beyond this foe, our

enemies are myriad. They would be glad to see us extinct. Let

us stand for our house among those who already bleed for Ios,

accepting risks refused by those bound by tradition. I will goon alone, if need be.

The issyrs stern gaze moved from one swordsman to the

next. A part of Rayl longed to return to his house, but another

ached to take up arms against their foes. He was not alone

in having marveled at the return of Nyssor and enviously

watched the triumphant procession of Incissar Vyros of the

Dawnguard. The Retribution did not seem loathsome. How

could a group so committed to the preservation of Ios deserve

censure? He knew what he must do.

Before he could speak, a voice cried out, Allegiance to you,

Issyr! Rayl turned to see Melyna with a st pressed againstthe ceremonial knife tted to her shoulder.

Allegiance to you, Issyr! Rayl shouted, placing a st over

his own shoulder. He exchanged looks with Melyna and

Fynar, seeing his excitement reected in their eyes. One by

one those around him took up the cry.

Very well, Thyron said, smiling at last. Let us show the

Retribution the true steel of Ios. We bring them the sword of

Ellowuyr!

MARCHING ORDERS


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EARLY DEPARTURESCEPHALYX TUNNELS BELOW THE

THORNWOOD NECROFACTORIUM

Cognifex Cyphon cocked his head and listened as another

explosion sounded far above him. From his place within

the sanitation chamber linking cephalyx and Cryxian levelsof the hive, the cognifex could sense mental and emotional

emanations from both human armies above and the cephalyx

remaining in the upper levels. Fear and doubt radiated from the

invading forces. In contrast, members of the hive demonstrated

heightened urgency and awareness, but those thoughts

were efcient and focused. A good number of lower-ranking

cephalyx had gathered their drudges to contribute to the ght

above. Behind Cyphon, a pair of warden monstrosities stood in

silent vigilance.

Already the exulons had retreated deeper underground, and

persistent queries from remaining cephalyx petitioned his

mind, many disregarding the etiquette for such communicationin favor of expedience. Contingencies had been set in place

for this very threat, but the assault on the necrofactorium was

early by several weeks, and what was to have been a calculated

withdrawal now contained a greater number of variables. What

aggravated Cyphon the most was that Thexus had left to attend

to some urgent matter with the hives northernmost holdings,

which forced Cyphon to coordinate matters on the exulons

behalf. The descent of the remaining exulons deeper into the

hive to avoid the unpleasant prospect of speaking with their

Cryxian allies only amplied his discomfort with the situation.

A series of metallic clacking sounds issued from the opposite

end of the chamber, and Master Necrotech Mortenebra entered

the room with a pair of helljacks anking her fabricated form. A

sense of revulsion washed over Cyphon at the sight of her. He

possessed no strong biases against Cryxians, but Mortenebra

had once been a disciple of the Maiden of Gears, and the taint

of the association remainedher necromechanikal body was

not so different from those used by the Convergence of Cyriss.

Even so, he was here on orders from the exulons to assess the

situation and pressure their allies.

uery Entity Asphyxious projected distant date for attack

by externals. Explain discrepancy. As soon as he sent this

mental message, Cyphon sensed it had not connected. This wasnot unexpected; other cephalyx had reported that the minds

of the sentient undead were not reachablea puzzle he might

return to, when time allowed.

Though he loathed communicating through his articial

vocalizer, he saw little choice in the matter. Assault disrupts

predetermined agenda, Cyphon said aloud. Continued

existence of the hive is in jeopardy.

The hive will be secured, Mortenebra said. Another explosion

rained ecks of debris from the ceiling, and the necrotechs

limbs clattered as they moved to compensate for the vibrations.

No more than the upper levels will be lost to the mortals.

Upper levels contain projects of import, he said.

Mortenebra nodded. I, too, have work housed nearby,she said. If we act quickly, some of these projects may be

saved. Doing so will require a diversion. The drudges and

monstrosities created since the last battle should sufce. I have

been instructed by Lich Lord Asphyxious to remain with the

hive and assist with any complications.

Immediately Cyphons mind factored in these potential losses

against the gains they had seen from the alliance with the

undead. The inefciency from faulty planning hovered at the

edge of acceptable limits, yet the survival of the hive outweighed

any other considerations. The commitment of an irreplaceable

asset like Mortenebra at least signied the lich lord did not plan

to entirely abandon them.

Submit alternative action plan, Cyphon said. The clamor

above was growing steadily louder, and even now, a dozen

cephalyx telepathically pressed him for information.

A not inconsequential number of thralls have been sent to

assist your drudges in nishing the closure of the tunnels. We

must buy them time to complete their task.

Current resources are insufcient to stall the advance, Cyphon

replied. Cryxian retreat implies a low probability of success.

The warcaster appeared unfazed. We must prod the enemy

and draw them to tunnels of our choosing, which we willcollapse upon them. They will suffer cas

warmachine: reckoning

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