Through the darkness a.., p.1
Through the Darkness – Aeryn Rudel and William Shick, page 1
THROUGH THE DARKNESS:
THE STORY OF MACHINATIONS
AERYN RUDEL
WILLIAM SHICK
Cover by
LAINE GARRETT
CONTENTS
WELCOME TO THE IRON KINGDOMS
MAP
FOREWORD
PART I: UMBRA
PART II: ANOMALY
PART III: VARIABLES
PART IV: ENTROPY
PART V: EQUILIBRIUM
GLOSSARY
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
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!
MAP
FOREWORD
There is nothing more terrifying to the human psyche than the unknown. When confronted by a threat we cannot see or cannot understand, our minds race to fill in the blanks in a desperate attempt to create sense and logic out of incomprehensible horrors. Yet even if we find ourselves frozen in absolute terror, we feel compelled to discover the truth behind the unknown, to catalog it, to shine a bright light into dark corners and see exactly what lurks there.
This primal fear of the unknown and our contrary need to reveal it is the basis of the story you’re about to read. Don’t expect a simple horror story, however—after all, this is the Iron Kingdoms. You can expect this tale to be rife with heroics, magic, and steam-powered fantasy. Our heroes don’t just peek into the darkness; they light the way by the boilers of their warjacks and the muzzle fire of their magelock pistols.
Through the Darkness has a unique origin story. First, you might be wondering what the subtitle, The Story of Machinations, actually means. In 2013, Privateer Press sponsored a yearlong global organized play event for WARMACHINE and HORDES known as Machinations. This event was structured as a league and was centered on the Convergence of Cyriss and its secret war against its ancient foe, the cephalyx.
As with previous leagues we decided to support each of the month-long seasons with fiction. In the past, our league fiction had been self-contained short stories, but this time we decided to try something bold and different. We chose to tell one continuous tale that ties all the seasons, and thus the entire league, together.
A basic concept of the league’s theme, along with some of the characters and warring factions we wished to involve, was pitched to the two authors of this story, Will Shick and Aeryn Rudel. These two talented minds took our basic ideas and crafted a character-driven story so rich you can almost smell the gunpowder…and feel the fear.
Our audience’s response to this new style of organized play storytelling was tremendous, and the end result is this compilation. We hope you enjoy your tour of the darkness and all the horrific things waiting silently in the shadows. Ready your weapons and fire up the ’jacks—it’s time to uncover the truth behind Machinations.
Will Hungerford
Privateer Press Volunteer & Organized Play Coordinator
PART I: UMBRA
Occupied Llael, Autumn 608 AR
“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever let you talk me into.”
Rutger looked over at the hooded woman beside him. “Really?
The cool blue eyes of Taryn di la Rovissi stared straight back at him. “You have a point. Letting you live was the stupidest thing I ever let you talk me into.”
“That wasn’t what I was referring to.” Rutger couldn’t help but chuckle. “Besides, if you hadn’t let me talk you into coming with me, you probably would have married some noble and grown fat and lazy from having servants feed you all day.” He winked, punctuating the jest and causing a smile to break across the gun mage’s features. “Just think of all the fun you would have missed out on.”
“Yes, I just can’t imagine how much simpler life would be without you,” she said as she strode in front of him. “At least married and fat I wouldn’t find myself marching on some damned fool’s crusade.” She waved her hand, gesturing to the motley Highborn forces that marched around them.
Rutger took stock of the “glorious” army of Lord Elias de Gilfyn, dispossessed Llaelese noble and esteemed member of the Highborn Covenant. He had to admit that the sight was a far cry from the image on the Llaelese Resistance’s propaganda posters in Rhydden. The forces arrayed were not brave citizens throwing off the shackles of Khadoran oppression and marching with the spirit of a free Llael in their breasts. In truth, Rutger doubted if more than a dozen among them even were Llaelese. The majority marched under the banner of de Gilfyn and the Resistance for one reason: the coin de Gilfyn had offered them to do so.
Still, Rutger decided as he looked over the army, he’d rather have seasoned mercenaries at his back than a bunch of green recruits whose only qualification was a staunch belief in their cause. Here, disciplined ranks of Steelhead halberdiers marched in step with their fellows, their powerful polearms at rest across their shoulders. Steelhead riflemen followed as their officers bellowed out cadence. In addition to the company of Steelheads, the Resistance army boasted a detachment of Rhulic soldiers from Horgenhold. Several units of Forge Guard kept steady pace behind the Steelheads, their heavy plate armor seeming to have little effect on their inexorable march, while Horgenhold artillery crews guided sturdy wagons loaded with stout cannons beside their hammer-wielding brothers in arms.
While the infantry force was impressive, it was the presence of the famed warcaster Drake MacBain and his battlegroup of battle-scarred warjacks that demanded attention. The great machines were currently stowed on several supply wagons in the center of the army column but were clearly visible over the heads of the soldiers, along with Rutger’s personal warjack Rex. The presence of such a seasoned battlegroup was what made the force a credible threat to the Khadorans—or at least it would have, if not for one small detail. Despite his exceptional combat experience, MacBain was not actually in charge of the army. That honor was held by de Gilfyn himself.
Though de Gilfyn had held the rank of general in the former Llaelese Army, as often happens with nobles his rank had been granted because of his station rather than his capabilities as a soldier. In the three weeks since his force had left Rhydden, the man had proven himself to be painfully unqualified when it came to command. He clearly lacked experience in personally directing an armed force and also suffered from a deficiency of common sense.
Taryn had disliked de Gilfyn from the start. He represented everything she had come to loathe about the nobility of her former homeland. She watched with barely restrained disgust as he rode past, giving orders to one of the Steelhead officers.
“That fool will be the death of us, you know,” she growled.
Rutger wanted to tell her to give the man time. That first impressions weren’t always the right ones. At least de Gilfyn was here, willing to fight alongside his men, unlike so many other members of the Highborn Covenant. Looking into her eyes, though, he knew she’d never hear it. Instead he flashed a devilish grin and said, “Don’t worry—by now I’m used to pulling you out of the fire.”
“Fitting, since you’re the one who usually puts me there,” Taryn shot back. The playful jibe stung Rutger. He wasn’t about to let anything happen to her because of him.
A sudden commotion brought his attention back to de Gilfyn, who had guided his steed too close in front of the lead supply wagon while speaking to his adjutant, forcing the driver to pull back hard on the reins to avoid a collision. This abrupt halt cascaded down the line, causing increasing chaos until a loud crash split the air as the last two wagons were overturned in their frantic attempts to keep from crashing into their comrades. The load fasteners snapped, and bundles of food and supplies scattered across the dirt road.
Rutger let out a small groan. The warjacks were safe and secure, at least; none of those wagons had overturned. But the damage had been done. The carefully organized column had fallen into complete disarray as soldiers in the back found their formations broken and soldiers in the front turned to see what the commotion was all about. It would take some time for the sergeants and quartermasters to sort out everything.
Turning away from the scene, Rutger saw his old friend Brunner Ainsworth striding toward them, his Steelhead plate nicked from years of hard use. A wicked scar stitched its way from beneath the right side of his bulbous nose through his bushy, black mustache and down to the left side of his jaw. Though the battle scar gave him a rather fearsome appearance, his deep brown eyes radiated with good humor and his voice was jovial as he called out to Rutger with a wave of his mechanikal hand.
Brunner and Rutger had served together years ago in the Cygnaran Army, in the same trencher squad. The pair had met at the enlistment office, gone through boot camp together, and fought together in several border skirmishes against Khador.
It was during one of those encounters near Fellig against Khador’s infamous 5th Border Legion that Brunner had saved Rutger’s life. Late in the battle Winter Guard had overrun their squad’s position and Rutger had found himself standing alone against three Khadorans. Brunner had intervened in the nick of time, but the action had cost him both his hand and his good looks. Rutger had left the trenchers not long after that.
Though Rutger kept in touch with Brunner, when the two had run into each other in Ternon Crag this spring it had been nearly three years since they had seen each other. Brunner had told Rutger about Lord de Gilfyn raising an army to liberate a small Khador-occupied town southeast of Rynyr. Apparently the town served as a supply point for the distribution and storage of the red mineral mined in Rynyr that was a critical ingredient in the production of the blasting powder used in ammunition across western Immoren.
Not only did Dunlyf contain an ample stockpile of red powder, its location far from the heavily garrisoned Rynyr made it a prime target for the Resistance. Even the vast Khadoran Army would have difficulty mounting a quick offensive to take back the town at that distance. Combine this with the numerous other threats against the occupying Khadoran forces, including Cryxians and the Protectorate of Menoth’s Northern Crusade, and the recapture of Dunlyf would surely be a low priority. To the Resistance, however, the town’s liberation would be a great symbolic victory against Khador as well as provide a large supply of the valuable red powder, which Resistance forces could use in their continuing fight.
“Seems we’re breaking for lunch already,” Brunner said as he approached. “I told His Grace that the next time he found himself saddle sore all he had to do was say so. No need for him to bring the whole supply train to a crashing halt!”
Rutger chuckled. “You misjudge the tactical genius of our patron’s strategy. Now that we’re diverted, none will think to question his warrior spirit!” From the corner of his eye he saw Taryn fold her arms and cock her hooded head to one side. It was her “not amused” stance. Typically it meant she felt Rutger wasn’t taking the situation as seriously as warranted. It was a look he saw all too often.
“Don’t suppose I could convince you to use that prize warjack you’re always going on about to give us a hand?” Brunner said. “Provided you don’t think flipping a couple empty wagons upright would be beneath its regal stature.”
