Scars of caen the collec.., p.1
Scars of Caen: The Collected Edition, page 1
SCARS OF CAEN:
THE COLLECTED EDITION
AERYN RUDEL
WILLIAM SHICK
Cover by
LAINE GARRETT
CONTENTS
MAP
WELCOME TO THE IRON KINGDOMS
FOREWORD
PART I
PART II
PART III
PART IV
PART V
MAP
WELCOME TO
THE IRON KINGDOMS
The world you are about to enter is the Iron Kingdoms, a place where the power and presence of gods are beyond dispute, where mankind battles itself as well as all manner of fantastic races and exotic beasts, and where a blend of magic and technology called mechanika shape industry and warfare. Outside the Iron Kingdoms themselves—the human nations of the continent called Immoren—the vast and unexplored world of Caen extends to unknown reaches, firing the imaginations and ambitions of a new generation.
Strife frequently shakes these nations, and amid the battles of the region the most powerful weapon is the warjack, a steam-powered automaton that boasts great mobility, thick armor, and devastating weaponry. A warjack’s effectiveness is at its greatest when commanded by a warcaster, a powerful soldier-sorcerer who can forge a mental link with the great machine to magnify its abilities tremendously. Masters of both arcane and martial combat, these warcasters are often the deciding factor in war.
For the Iron Kingdoms, what is past is prologue. No event more clearly defines these nations than the extended dark age suffered under the oppression of the Orgoth, a brutal and merciless race from unexplored lands across the great western ocean known as the Meredius. For centuries these fearsome invaders enslaved the people of western Immoren, maintaining a vise-like grip until at last the people rose up in rebellion. This began a long and bloody process of battles and defeats. This rebellion would have been doomed to failure if a dark arrangement by the gods had not bestowed the Gift of Magic on the Immorese, unlocking previously undreamed-of powers.
Every effective weapon employed by the Rebellion against the Orgoth was a consequence of great minds putting arcane talents to work. Not only did sorcery allow evocations of fire, ice, and storm on the battlefield, but scholars combined scientific principles to blend technology with the arcane. Rapid advancements in alchemy gave rise to blasting powder and the invention of deadly firearms. Methods were developed to fuse arcane formulae into metal runeplates, creating augmented tools and weapons: the invention of mechanika. The culmination of these efforts was the invention of the first colossals, precursors to the modern warjack. These towering machines of war gave the Immorese a weapon the invaders could not counter. With the colossals the armies of the Rebellion drove the Orgoth from their fortresses and back to the sea.
The people of the ravaged lands drew new borders, giving birth to the Iron Kingdoms: Cygnar, Khador, Llael, and Ord. It was not long before ancient rivalries ignited between these new nations. Warfare became a simple fact of life. Over the last four centuries periodic wars have been broken up by brief periods of tense but wary peace, with technology steadily advancing all the while. Alchemy and mechanika have simultaneously eased and complicated the lives of the people of the Iron Kingdoms while evolving the weapons employed by their armies in these days of industrial revolution.
The most long-standing and bitter enmity in the region is that between Cygnar in the south and Khador in the north. The Khadorans are a militant people occupying a harsh and unforgiving territory. The armies of Khador have periodically fought to reclaim lands their forebears had once seized through conquest. The two smaller kingdoms of Llael and Ord were forged from contested territories and so have often served as battlegrounds between the two stronger powers. The prosperous and populous southern nation of Cygnar has periodically allied with these nations in efforts to check Khador’s imperial aspirations.
Just over a century ago, Cygnar endured a religious civil war that ultimately led to the founding of the Protectorate of Menoth. This nation, the newest of the Iron Kingdoms, stands as an unforgiving theocracy entirely devoted to Menoth, the ancient god credited with creating mankind.
In the current era, war has ignited with particular ferocity. This began with the Khadoran invasion of Llael, which succeeded in toppling the smaller kingdom in 605 AR. The fall of Llael ignited an escalating conflict that has embroiled the region for the last three years. Only Ord has remained neutral in these wars, profiting by becoming a haven for mercenaries. The Protectorate has launched the Great Crusade to convert all of humanity to the worship of Menoth. With the other nations occupied with war, this crusade was able to make significant gains and seize territories in northeastern Llael.
Other powers have been drawn into this strife, either swept up in events or taking advantage of them for their own purposes. The Scharde Islands west of Immoren are home to the Nightmare Empire of Cryx, which is ruled by the dragon Toruk and sends endless waves of undead and their necromantic masters to bolster its armies with the fallen of other nations. To the northeast the insular elven nation of Ios is host to a radical sect called the Retribution of Scyrah that is driven to hunt down human arcanists, whom they believe are anathema to their gods.
The savage wilds within and beyond the Iron Kingdoms contain various factions fighting for their own agendas. From the frozen north a disembodied dragon called Everblight leads a legion of blight-empowered warlocks and draconic spawn. The proud, tribal race known as the trollkin work to unite their once-disparate people to defend their lands. Deep in the wilds of western Immoren, a secretive order of druids commands nature’s beasts to oppose Everblight and advance their own various plans. Far to the east across the Bloodstone Marches, the warrior nation of the Skorne Empire marches inexorably closer, bent on conquering their ancient enemies in Ios as a step toward greater dominion. Shadowy conspiracies have arisen from hidden strongholds to play their own part in unfolding events. These include the Convergence of Cyriss, an enigmatic machine-cult that worships a distant goddess of mathematics, as well as their bitter enemies the cephalyx, a race of extremely intelligent and sadistic slavers who surgically transform captives into mindless drudges.
The Iron Kingdoms is a setting whose inhabitants must rely on heroes with the courage to defend them using magic and steel, whether in the form of rune-laden firearms or steam-driven weapons of war. The factions of western Immoren are vulnerable to corruption from within and subject to political intrigue and power struggles. All the while, opportunistic mercenaries profit from conflict by selling their temporary allegiance for coin or other favors. It is a world of epic legends and endless sagas.
Enter the Iron Kingdoms, and discover a world like no other!
FOREWORD
There are no creatures more alien and terrifying in the Iron Kingdoms than dragons. Unlike those in traditional fantasy settings, the dragons of Immoren are immortal beings of near god-like power and destructive capability. They radiate a terrible aura known as dragon’s blight, which warps and corrupts all living things around them. In general, they are patient, malevolent entities that spend untold centuries plotting to further their own goals regardless of how their ruthlessness may impact any other living creature.
Scars of Caen explores survival in a world where such terrible beasts wreak their havoc. The story is reminiscent of a Kaiju film—one told from the perspective of those surviving in the aftermath of a dragon’s rampage rather than of those battling the giant monsters head on. Our heroes do not draw their swords and charge into the fiery maw of death; instead, they pick up the broken pieces left behind in the wake of a dragon’s destruction. And as they soon learn, the plague of blight pervades even the broken pieces; nothing—and no one—is incorruptible.
If you’ve read Through the Darkness, you may already be familiar with the origins of Scars of Caen. Each year, Privateer Press hosts a yearlong global organized play league for the WARMACHINE and HORDES tactical miniatures game. The 2014 league allowed players to assume the role of an altruistic Purist or a greedy Opportunist as they marched their armies into lands devastated by dragon’s blight to further their own goals. The Purists sought to heal the land and restore balance; the Opportunists were only out for themselves, looting and pillaging all that remained. This theme of duality, of honor versus opportunity, is one you’ll see underscored in the story to come.
Scars of Caen was the fiction for the 2014 league. Told in chapters released throughout the year, the tale provided players a greater understanding of the battles they were participating in and how their actions were shaping the outcome of our heroes’ plight. Now all those chapters have been collected into this single novel, and the completed adventure is just a few pages away. Get ready for a saga filled with magic, monsters, and heroism, but never forget: the dragon’s blight corrupts all.
Will Hungerford
Privateer Press Organized Play & Volunteer Coordinator
PART I
Occupied Llael,
Just South of the Thundercliff Peaks,
608 AR
A jet-black form soared through the night sky, its bulk borne aloft on vast leathery wings. If not for the great expanse of stars blotted out by the speeding figure, the massive creature’s passage would have been all but invisible to any who looked to the sky. It was for this reason the dragon Charsaug preferred to travel at night. His keen intellect—one half of the ancient and terrible dragon Erd
It was not the pursuit of that old feud that brought about his flight tonight, however, but matters pertaining to a far older and deadlier war in which Charsaug and his twin took part—a war whose focus had shifted suddenly and dramatically.
The dragon’s keen eyes easily pierced the veil of darkness enshrouding his majestic frame. Slowly he wheeled as he readied to land within a forested grove at the foot of what mortals called the Thundercliff Peaks. As he neared the ground he pumped his great wings, sending cyclonic blasts of scorching air to buffet the land beneath. The force of the wind sheared off the tops of pines that had stood for centuries, splintering their immense trunks like kindling.
With the sound of thunder and the tremor of an avalanche, Charsaug’s powerful form came to rest upon Caen. At his touch, the ground beneath his clawed feet blackened and cracked like flesh put to a white-hot iron. Trees that had survived the dragon’s descent were snapped like twigs as he strode through the forest. Perhaps annoyed by the continued hindrance of the old growth, Charsaug shook his body to send forth a spray of molten lava from beneath his black scales. In moments the night was illuminated as liquid stone ignited the evergreens.
The dragon seemed to take no note of the inferno his presence had unleashed upon the once-idyllic landscape. Instead he stopped and dug his claws into the smoking earth, tearing up great chunks of soil, root, and rock like a dog digging for a long-buried bone. The sight was lost on those few creatures that had survived the enormous dragon’s arrival; they sought only to flee for their lives as their world burned around them.
Caelan the Waykeeper’s skin tingled as she exited the ley line in a flash of green-hued light. Her mystical senses, attuned to the unique energies of the veins of Orboros, told her that her party remained intact. She felt a small euphoric rush at the successful transit. Though nearly all higher-ranking druids could travel through the ley line network, far fewer were able to guide large groups of those who lacked the wilding. Travel via ley lines was extremely rapid, but even a brief time within the veins of Orboros could prove highly dangerous. The ley lines were far from a constant, static path. They were less like roads than like rivers, changing their course to flow around any obstacles—sometimes with disastrous consequences.
“This place does not show signs of being touched by the presence of a dragon.” The familiar alto voice of Master Huntsman Berrick was much at odds with his exceedingly large frame. No matter how long Caelan worked with him, she still could not shake the thought that the Wolf of Orboros’ voice belonged in a man half his size.
“Your eyes do not deceive you, Master Huntsman. This place has not suffered the blight of Toruk’s progeny.” Caelan turned to face Berrick, who had yet to don his bronze wolf helm. His fierce green eyes flicked predatorily across the landscape. The wild mass of dark black hair and beard only added to his feral appearance. As far as Caelan was concerned, Berrick looked far more like the symbol of his order without his helm than with it. “I could not chance using the veins of Orboros to bring us directly to our destination. The damage they have suffered from the dragon’s blight makes them far too dangerous.” She pointed to the north, where the mighty Thundercliff Peaks filled the horizon. “But we are close.”
“I’ve never feared a walk, Waykeeper,” Berrick said, resting his cleft spear across his shoulder. A wolfish smile appeared within the tangle of hair covering his face. He motioned to his pack—a mix of Wolves and reeves—and the group began marching in the direction Caelan had indicated, with the reeves moving far ahead to serve as scouts. Although there was no immediate sense of danger, the group spread out in a patrolling pattern with weapons held at the ready.
Caelan took up her position near the center of the pack. If trouble did arise, there would be no safer place. It was the pack’s job to protect her with their own lives; she knew that her safety was precisely the reason they accompanied her. Nevertheless, the thought of others sacrificing their lives for her own had always made Caelan uncomfortable. Her old mentor Donavus the Wornrock had told her these feelings would pass with time as she began to understand her role and importance within the Circle. Such knowledge would illuminate why different values were placed upon the lives of those who served Orboros. Still, the longer she spent with Berrick and his pack, the more her sense of responsibility for their lives grew.
The group made quick progress across the rolling Llaelese farmland. Caelan could feel the pulse of the ley line beneath them as they traveled, and she used it to guide them to the conjunction that was their final destination. The monotony of travel left her mind free to wander, and she found herself considering exactly what they would find once they arrived at the nexus. Her instructions from Lyvene the Wayopener had been brief. All Caelan knew was that there was a disruption in the network believed to have been caused by intense exposure to dragon blight.
With a sliver of her arcane power she traced the path of the ley line toward the nexus. She was startled by the sudden alteration in the line as her mind crossed the threshold of what must be the blighted area. Her brow furrowed behind the cloth that covered most of her face as she analyzed the corrupted line. If this was the damage done at the periphery of the dragon’s blight, she struggled to imagine what she would find at its epicenter. Anxiety seized her as she wondered if she would be up to the task set before her.
She was startled from her thoughts by Berrick. “Even with your coverings I can see your worry, Waykeeper.” He hesitated, turning his eyes northward as he considered his next words. “I will admit that you are not alone.”
Caelan looked up at Berrick, careful to mask any hint of surprise or concern his statement caused her. For a moment she wondered if he was questioning her abilities. “What do you mean?” she asked.
Berrick did not return her look, instead staring intently at the landscape around them. Caelan realized it was not her abilities he was concerned about.
“This place . . . there is something gravely wrong here. There is no . . . ” His voice trailed off and he shifted uncomfortably as he struggled to express his apprehension. Caelan was confident such feelings were quite rare for the master huntsman. “There is no life here,” Berrick said at last. He shook his head and looked at her apologetically. “Forgive me, Waykeeper. I do not mean to burden you with my childish prattle.”
Caelan was unsure how to respond to Berrick’s surprising candidness. She had never seen the man show any vulnerability before—indeed, she had not even thought him capable of such an emotion. There was a long moment of silence as she searched for an appropriate reply. By the time she found one, Berrick had quickened his pace and was moving back toward the front of the pack.
They made the rest of the journey in relative silence. Caelan soon realized how accurate Berrick’s assessment had been, despite his difficulty in expressing it. The more she focused on their surroundings, the more she was reminded of a tomb. She had been less aware of this deathly atmosphere earlier because of her connection with the ley line below, which still thrummed and pulsed with its own life. But now even that constant was slowly changing as their company crossed the invisible border of the dragon’s influence. The aura of blight emanating from both the corrupted ley line and the tainted landscape made Caelan’s stomach churn. She steeled herself, knowing the effects of the blight would only worsen as they neared the nexus.
Nothing, however, could have prepared her for the devastation the great dragon had left behind. Caelan heard gasps from the Wolves nearby as they witnessed the awesome aftermath of the dragon’s presence. Blackened and broken tree trunks jutted from the cracked, smoldering earth. Ash floated like fog, casting a grey pallor across the area.
The visual bleakness of the scene was nothing, however, compared to the feel of the place. It made Caelan’s skin crawl. To her attuned senses, standing among the blighted energies felt like being smothered in a wet, moldy blanket. She found it hard to breath; the air seemed to stick in her lungs. She struggled to fight off the waves of nausea and dizziness that assaulted her with every step.
