Certus Crusade: The Unseen Gambit

With the club’s narrative crusade deep into its final month, the plot is truly thickening. With some familiar faces up to no good, Chaos is sure to follow…

Some time ago…

“Zarroran Vug’drin Varthronneth,” Severah the Haemonculus chanted toward the gargantuan soul cage, which her slaves and abominations had built since their first captives of the Certus System.

Archon Mysaria stood nearby. Her black orbed eyes glared out from her port fortress onto the helpless planets of Certus.

“Zarroran Vug’drin Varthronneth,” Severah’s chant echoed louder as the trapped souls swirled helplessly screaming until the horrific energies took aim at Certus Secondus. Then came the final surge…

….In the silent darkness, on a not so distant world, ethereal flames suddenly burst forth from the eyes of a skull as it erupts with unholy energy…


Some time later…

Deep within the Necroplex under Obsequa City, on the cemetary world of Certus Minor, in an unmarked tomb a flaming skull sits atop of a pedestal wreathed in ethereal flames. Despite the flames emanating from it it gives off no light leaving the rest of the tomb eerily black and deadly silent. The air within the darkness slowly begins to cool as frost starts to spread from three spots on the floor. The air begins to crackle, filled with energy, until there is a sudden flash of light. As the light fades three silhouettes are left in the darkness. As the frost clears from the first the red, black & gold ceramite armour is revealed. His right side illuminated by the fiery glow of his plasma weapon, the left by the pulsing energy field surrounding his warhammer, his armour glistening with ruins of power & eyes that burn with ten thousand years of hatred. Surveying the tomb the red clad warrior lowers their weapons, their vox crackles into life, and growls,

“Good sorcerer, you have brought us exactly where I told you.”

Across the room spreads the baleful glow of warp energy emanating from the rotting husk of a corrupted suit of terminator armour. The figure inside, so gaunt as to nearly appear skeletal, begins to close the book they are holding and the sickly green light appears to recoil into it as the covers close shut. In a voice so dry it seems to suck the very moisture from the air the sorcerer wheezes between coughs,

“That was but nothing, compared to the many gifts the, Grandfather has to offer, Karron. Would you not, open yourself, to his blessings?”

Turning now to face the Sorcerer, Karron The Relentless, Warlord of The Crimson Cutthroats, growled,

“I would sooner give up all the wealth of 10,000 years of plundering than accept any gift from you Ghast!”

In a voice that did nothing to match the joyus tone of it’s words Exhult Ghast, Everblessed of Nurgle, rasped,

“Oh but The Grandfather’s gifts, are worth so much, more than all the plunder, you could ever dream of my friend.”

“I can dream big sorcerer & in none of those dreams am I a rotten corpse!”

“You flatter me, Karron. Nurgle has, truly left me Everblessed. The Apothosis Strain has, been so kind to me… and to all, who it touches.”

“Be sure that filth does not touch me or you will find my hammer not so kind.”

“ENOUGH!” roared the third figure with such force that both Karron & Exhult stepped back.

“I do not endure the very gods themselves to have to listen to you two bicker.”

This voice, so deep as to rumble round the tomb, drew the attention of both Chaos lords towards it. Decked out in hulking black and gold tactical dreadnought armour stood Ezekyle Abaddon, The Despoiler & Warmaster of Chaos. His eyes, glowing with a golden light, now fixed on the skull floating on the pedestal ahead of him. His voice lowered as he began to speak again,

“You each have your own agendas and roles to play but I am working toward something far greater than either of you know and this will help me win a great victory over the corpse worshippers.” Raising his arm Abaddon pointed the tip of his great blade toward the flaming skull and Drach’nyen hissed. The surface of the blade appeared, for a second, to bubble as the twisted faces of the souls it has devoured screamed forth provoked by their tormentor.

Artwork: The Despoiler by Lars Bundvad-Åmodt

“Euugh it hurts to, look at but if I am not, mistaken that is the Animus, Malorum, my lord? what possible use, could you have for that?” Ghast wheezed.

“Very good Exhult but it is not what I can use it for but who I can stop using it. Very soon there will be a time of great darkness when their false god will have need of this and to take it from him now will rob him of a threat to my plans.”

“I shall destroy it for you now Warmaster & be done with it’s curse forever” Karron growled raising his hammer to bring down on the skull but before the it could strike it stopped suddenly. Karron’s face contorted with a mix of confusion and agony as with a speed that should not have been possible Abbadon thrust Drach’nyen through his chest. The blade sliced through ceramite as if it was cheap linen, peircing one of Karron’s hearts, and he spat blood. Abaddon stepped up level with Karron, still impaling him on Drach’nyen, so that the Karron could turn his head and see him. Abbadon, eyes not shifting from the pedestal ahead, began to speak calmly and coldly in his deep powerful voice,

“Karron you have served me well to find this place but do not assume that you know my mind. If I had wanted it destroyed I would not have come all this way to claim it for myself.”

The hatred that had once burned so brightly in the eyes of Karron the Relentless was now all but spent replaced by an agony unknown in 10 thousand years of service to the dark gods. With a flick of his wrist almost as swift as the initial strike Abaddon withdrew the blade and with it Karron’s life, adding a new deformed face to the surface of Drach’nyen. Stepping forward again toward the pedestal Abaddon raised the Talon of Horus. The eyes of the skull began to blaze with radiant light causing all but The Despoiler to look away until the claws of the great gauntlet wrapped round it. Then just as suddenly as they had sparked into existence the flames went out.

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