Dzungla Svijet


Having shared dank cells, hunger, the torment of beatings and degradation, they had of course come to know one another’s nightmares.

A landscape of corpses; family, friends and comrades rotting, their dead eyes glassy and accusing.

A tearing sensation; the wet slap of clubs on red, stinging flesh, ripped free of skin-fused steel.

Control, slipping away; the icy grip of failure, of panic, the unfolding chaos as a hasty shot goes wide.

Condemnation; stony faces, deaf to persuasion, unearthing a litany of long-denied corruptions.

Of the nightmares, they would never speak. A small act perhaps - respecting the privacy of personal suffering in a place where there was little respect and no privacy. But it was this, rather than the horror, hatred, and rage against universe that they had in common, which would unite them, and the world suffered for their solidarity.

[[Wayward wreckage from the Atrium Summi]]

Entry 1.1- Year One

[[Jordye Castle]]

Prorok Makalan watched the night sky from the ramparts of Minas Colba. He knew all the stars in the sky by heart, and took note of their movements, keeping an eye out for the symbols and portents. He would go to the Vojni tomorrow, and tell him the will of the Gods based on his findings. The Vojni knew the Gods spoke to him through the stars. Anthalon the hunter, Mealoss the wise, and -
Wait. What was that?
An anomaly? A falling star to the far north. Makalan let out a long breath. There was no mistake. The Comet of Ending, long foretold. Such a thing would bring great change…

The heretics broke free of the wreckage and onto an alien landscape. Lush blue forest and rolling hills stretched in every direction, and two swollen suns hung low in a yellow-green sky. Far to the north, a burning contrail scarred the stratosphere, marking the final descent of the Atrium Summi. The escapees numbly scraped together supplies and parts from the pod and made for high ground. They were stunned to spot a feudal settlement on the horizon, keenly aware of the death-world they might easily have been dealt. Knowing they would each need to walk their own path, they nevertheless shared a wordless exchange; a commitment to remember their bond, to remain in contact and to work together when they could. With this, Lothar shouldered his rifle and vanished to the east. Keeping off the road, the others headed north.

Weford clustered around the Church of Luminous Lords, a pilgrim site for mutants and followers of a pagan faith. Venturing in alone, Callidon learned of the many primitive religions and protogothic languages that dot the world of ‘Mundus’. The world possesses a mix of crude flintlock firearms, advanced metalworking, and preancient structures and machinery, strangely familiar to the tech-baron. Bartering baubles and weapons for maps, supplies and a hulking ‘kromossus’ mount, the heretics travelled north to Jordye Castle. On arrival, the newly retitled Phaero offered their services to the Dreadlord, smearing himself with the bloody beast-sigil of Jordye. Both he and Hadrian fought duels to claim captaincy of their own ships, but suspicious of psykers, the warlord ordered the Inquisitor hounded off his land. In a hasty vox-message, the heretics agreed to meet a year hence, upon the Blood-Eclipse.

Callidon was increasingly certain that the pagan gods of Mundus were none other than the Chaos Gods. Knowing that the greatest concentration of knowledge would be found clustered around their centres of worship, he employed a local rough as a bodyguard and took passage to the distant mage-city of Teham. Having concealed a secret mutation, the radical passed unharmed through the sorcerous wards and soon gained the patronage of one of the eleven wizard-lords of the Synod. In the eight months that followed, he devoured the teachings of Eklios the Skinless, finally murdering him to assume his position on the Council.

Seizing captaincy of the Brotherhood Cask with a blast of toxic scattershot, Hadrian set sail for the Southern Coast at the urging of his crew. At sea for nearly a year, the Cask reaved the lands of Negrethon. Though the battle dragged on for several bloody weeks, the city leaves the holds of the Cask full before she sails away. Fat with plunder, the Cask returned to the Dreadlord’s port, stopping to reclaim a fortified tower on the coast of Ogre Vale.

Phaero sailed the northern straits of Glanwrtyn aboard the Devil’s Hour. Finding the city assailed by an unknown curse, he extorted the demoralised populace for a tribute in slaves and riches. Claiming a coastal sea-fort as his staging ground, he began recruiting to besiege the aquila-clad paladins of Bredale Keep. But disturbed by his successes, the crafty Dreadlord instead sent him southwest, on a potentially suicidal mission to destroy the Great Library of Wamor.

Entry 1.2- Year Two

[[Wamor, City of Miracles]]

The Tzar of Brokenworlds swirled his wine and eyed his retinue. From his tower-top, he could see leagues of grassland in every direction. But today, he could also smell sea-salt on the wind, an ill omen.

“What interest would the Dreadlord’s men have in fortresses,” he pondered. “His strength is in ships, and his men are pirates.”

“I’m unsure your Magnificence,” said the Spymaster. “He continues to raid as usual, but his men now speak also of land-holdings, forts and towers in the East and the North.”

The Tzar and Dreadlord had a long-standing agreement of non-interference, and this sudden change troubled him. Opening his mouth to instruct his generals, his head suddenly exploded. His advisors scattered, running back down the tower in panic. Overhead, a delayed boom – like thunder or a gunshot – echoed across the landscape.

The windows of the Synod Assembly rattled in the unnatural wind, stoked by the experimentation of its inhabitants. The semi-permanent storm cast a pall over the Magical City of Teham, as its arcane leadership bickered and politicked. The Council’s newest Synod Callidon was at the heart of the consternation, underestimated by his opponents and building a tangled web of alliances within the Assembly. Advancing hungrily on the position of Arch-Synod, his impressive research and revelations had deeply disturbed the status quo. But his ambition was bluster, concealing the true goal; a vault of the city’s forgotten founder, sealed by long convention and tradition . As the months progressed, the Synods were manoeuvred ever closer this outcome, never suspecting that more than lust for power was at play.

Across the Bight of Phermia, the Baron beheld the imposing defences of Wamor, City of Miracles; guarded by armoured warrior-sages, its Library-Towers were impregnable. Concluding that the Dreadlord had meant for him to die on this errand, the Baron scaled the outermost towers but made only a tokenistic effort to set fires among the stacks. He escaped the city with an armful of mystic tomes, pursued by the amber liquid true-forms of the Sages and the receding screams of his abandoned crewmen. Upon his return to Jordye Castle, he was greeted by his comrade Hadrian, who had recruited two other ships to join in the assault on Bredale. But when the flotilla sailed north-east, the Baron’s fortress of Spur lay abandoned, emptied by a slave rebellion.

Entry 1.3- Year Three

[[The libraries of Teham]]

The Assembly, once a deadlock of uninterested scholars, now surged and changed with each passing week. Positions and power were lost, regained and torn away, as the mistrust and suspicion fermented by Callidon continued to grow. At last - to put an end to it - the Arch Synod defied all convention and opened the Forbidden Vault. He knew that this would buy him time to rebuild his support, as Callidon’s studies would remove him from the Assembly for several years. Struggling to suppress a grin, Callidon vanished into the restricted library. Though the unrest continued in his absence, its architect had nearly been forgotten by the time he finally emerged.

Panic gripped the lands of Bredale, as one-by-one the surrounding farms and villages were found empty and abandoned. Tales spread of a living terror in rusty scales, who culled the weak and old and dragged the children away in chains. They spoke of a ruthless warlord, his face enclosed by an impassive mask, who pressed man, woman and child into the growing force slaving to raise up fortifications and build his war-engines. And the Paladins of Bredale watched the net close around them, watched the countryside empty and the sky grow dark. At the first bloody dawn of spring, wolf-marked sails were sighted on the horizon.

Entry 1.4- Year Four

[[The siege of Bredale]]

The ballistae groaned, hurling mighty stones across the killing-field. They smashed against the city walls, clawing faults and fractures in the ancient defences and scarring the surrounding earth. The battle had started well, with the ships steadily bombarding the ramparts and the defenders bloodied in daring assaults. But the Paladins had long flintlock rifles, steel spears and plenty of powder. The siege had now dragged on for more than a year, with the Baron’s men withdrawing behind trenchworks and barricades and bringing artillery to bear. Agreeing to return to Jordye for reinforcements, Hadrian and his crew had instead sailed south. But made desperate by dwindling supplies, the Paladins were finally forced to stage a series of sallies against the invaders’ position. Relishing an honest battle, the Baron carved his khopesh into the defenders ranks, emerging, blood-drenched, as the victor at last. In coming months, Ilane, Glanwyrtn and Weford were ravaged by the Baron’s sworn captains, as he forged cannons, raised a new fleet and drilled a force of reavers for combat.

Callidon was much changed by his time in the Vault. Confined to the city by the Wards, the Synods jeered his proposal to gather knowledge and visit other centres of magic. They likewise spurned his plan to lure the captains of Jordye into a trap, fresh from their rumoured victory in the East. Now by strides surpassing the powers and wisdom of the other Synods, he knew that there was little left to learn in Teham. Consigning the thousands of mutants to the mercy of the Emperor, Callidon abandoned the city and sought the “Shadow-Knight” of whom his forbidden tomes had spoken

Entry 1.5- Year Five

[[Growing fleet of the House of Wolves]]

The city of Teham burned with cold fire, casting the last Sinod's shadow back on the road behind him. He spoke to himself as he watched, observing the destruction his decision had caused.
"For those who have forsaken his light shall earn his fire…"
The walls of the city were engulfed in flames, those who tried to flee the city met only a wall of pure white flame.
"…the unholy will burn under his flames, judged by the righteous…"
He could hear the screams from here. Thousands of civilians, mutants all, burned alive by the Shadow-Knight's fire.
"…and in his name I cast judgement. Heretics."
His hands shook as he finished, and he swore to himself it was rage, and not fear.

His voice booming across the dusty fields of the river-city Negrethon, Hadrian opened his arms in a welcoming gesture. The settlement had been stirred to action at first sight of his banners, well remembering the months of raids and butchery at his hands. But now he spoke kind words of invitation, asking for the dispossessed and unwanted of the city to join his crew. Not believing their luck, the merchant-kings emptied their prisons and slums, but soon learned their folly. Hadrian returned mere weeks later- the rabble now trained, armed and well fed - to plunder the city anew. Hadrian sailed from Negrethon, to Illane and back, always offering to welcome new recruits, then returning to enslave those who refused. His tower of Charax swelled with bounty, and housed a growing host of child-soldiers indoctrinated with devotion to their captain. As his wealth grew, he turned his mind to expanding his military power.

The irradiated ice-waste of the North shrieked and tugged at Callidon, as he laboured towards the immense fortress. The Shadow-Knight lounged upon his throne, a coal-skinned monstrosity bleeding darkness and death. It looked upon Callidon with interest, revealing that the city he had doomed had been a mere experiment in binding the Empyrean. Hungry for this potential weapon against the Warp, Callidon entreated the creature to ward him against the surrounding corruption and instruct him in this method. It’s interest piqued, the Daemon imparted a new suite of powers over several months, before setting Callidon loose again, forging through the snow towards the unsuspecting settlement of Wahyrst .

As the Blood-Eclipse approached, the heretics’ minds returned to their agreement and each in their way made ready to meet their old cellmates.

The Atrium Summi

They kept the madman in the basement to keep him from escaping or frightening the children. His red robes were grubby from travel, and his strange armour muddied and dented. His strange powder-less weapons had been taken off him and studied by the town blacksmith to little success, and he still remained a mystery to them. The stranger had stumbled into town some months past from somewhere in the Southwest, and had tried to book passage East before the town guard had captured him. They knew oddities fetched a good price in the Magical City, and this man was nothing if not odd. They watched now with one of the Sinods, silently observing the man as he continued to intone. When not under the Sinod's knife he spoke only one word.


Entry 2.1- Storm on the Horizon

[[Within Wahyrst]]

Dry, papery leaves crunched beneath Brinn’s heavy tread, and the wind whipped at his travelling cloak. He had remained hidden - in obscurity or in the shadows - for so long he now, he almost felt as though he was fading from existence. Shouldering his immense rifle, he listened for the distant growl of thunder. He had often used such storms to mask the sound of his gunshots, but lately, the bad weather itself filled him with an urgency to commit a kill. To impact upon the world again would be to reassert his existence. “I am not a ghost,” he reminded himself coarsely. “I kill, therefore I am.”

[Doom portended]
Forge-smog and the bitter smells of pitch and caulking were thick in the air, as the port-city of Bredale applied it’s whole industry to completing the warships. Vessels of the Dreadlord had savaged the outlying farms and villages in preceding weeks, and the task of producing a defensive fleet was becoming more urgent. As the Baron strode onto the groaning jetty, a gang of scarred reavers were disembarking the Brotherhood Casque. A familiar figure – now bearing scales like the creatures of his swampy domain – swaggered ashore. “Baron,” growled Hadrian without ceremony. “We’ve got an appointment to keep.”

Sailing North-West through the Riven Straits, the heretics landed on a frosty woodland coast. A spindly sorcerer named Cyto awaited them there, introducing himself as a fellow Synod to Callidon. As they shared a wine beneath his fine velvet canopy, he explained that the Inquisitor had become concerned about the fate of the Atrium Summi. He led them to a ruined tower in the Pontard Woods, where the pair had established a makeshift study, but moments before entering were stopped by a warning shout from Hadrian. The crack of rifle-fire boomed through the overgrown ruin, as a line of fusiliers fired from concealed positions. Iron shot zipped and whistled through the air and the heretics scattered into cover. Revealing his powers, Cyto unleashed a wave of chain lighting into the enemy ranks, cooking them within their kraken-marked armour. Their dying screams were drowned out by the thunder of Hadrian’s bolter, whose deadly shells shredded flesh, bone and steel alike. Though bleeding profusely from his flintlock wounds, Hadrian grimly held down the trigger in the face of an enemy bayonet charge. Surging into the melee, the Baron whirled and swept his khopesh, but these were the Dreadlord’s most seasoned fighters. Channelling power from his potentia coil into the crackling blade, he finally destroyed the rival captain’s cutlass and cut him down as he attempted to flee.

Arriving in Wahyrst, the heretics are met by Callidon. Rising out of a sea of reedlike grass, the craggy hilltop town is built directly into the blueish stone, and is strung with paper lanterns and pale streamers for the ‘Festival of Joining’. Shouldering through crowds of loping revellers in discordant colours, they make for the city dungeon where the Madman in Red is imprisoned. Recognising the robes of an Enginseer, they learn that the man is a survivor of the Summi crash, who grows steadily more terrified by the prospect of an impending Warp-Drive explosion. Callidon has calculated that such an event would wipe out whole continents, and reduce the population of Mundus by up to 90 percent. Shaken by this revelation, talk turns to the now urgent search for the wreck. At the height of the Festival, eerie rites and otherworldly dances are conducted across Wahyrst. Favouring the heretics with a prophecy, the Sage-Lord speaks of the “Comet of Ending,” descending over forgotten tombs caught between "Daemon and Beast, and crowned in white”. Retreating to pour over rough maps, the renegades decide to make for the Five Cities of Dorsea and seek the hidden astrological cult of the Fourth Island. Neither able to trust, nor fully dismiss the prophecy, they eventually piece together the ravings of its mad beggar-monks to trace a rough trajectory into the North-East.

On icy shores of Minas Colba, a vast frozen fortress stretches into the sky. It flies a two-headed Aquila banner, and glows with electric lighting. Confident is his prophetic dreams of success, Cyto approaches the walls alone, while the others are distracted discussing their plans. Declaring himself to be a lost Navigator of the Atrium Summi, he is welcomed into a castle manned by black-armoured Arbites and other dishevelled survivors. He is treated with reverence, but upon meeting the gnarled Justice Hayne, realises he is functionally a prisoner once more. Making covert enquiries in the castle, Cyto learns the final resting place of the great prison-ship, and of the failed effort to salvage the wreck. Running low fuel, the Judge has disallowed further trips to the site, which is roved by terrible monsters. Having got what he came for, the sorcerer attempts to steal the castles’ flier and make his escape. But he is stopped by wardens on the landing tower, forcing him to unleash his powers. The flash of lightning and gunfire on the towertop draws the eyes of Hadrian, who was camped on a mountaintop vantage. Ducking instinctively at the boom of his bolter, the Arbitrators let Cyto slip from their grasp. The lonely flier vanishes into the clouds, piloted southward at gunpoint.

Entry 2.2- Crown of White

[[Reavers plying the Ice Wastes]]

Brinn crouched on the cliff-top, angling his scope towards the horizon. Below, the surf boomed and crashed against the stone, raising great, towering spouts of mist. Through the ocean salt-haze, the slightest smudge of a sail appeared, dipping and flickering with the movement of the waves. Stowing his rifle in his pack, the assassin began loping through the scrub towards Bredale, raindrops dripping from his vestigial horns. When the Devil's Hour reached port, he awaited them at drydock.

[Peril in the Ice-Floes]
Reunited with Lothar, the heretics learned of his killing spree across the continent, removing many local warlords and would-be challengers to their growing dominion. They welcomed him back to the fold, though were troubled to hear that his dreams now also presaged the danger posed by the Summi's wreck. Discussing their options in callous terms, the heretics agreed that as a significant resource in their plans, Mundus should be spared destruction. Absent a way off-world, they began gathering supplies and equipment to foray into the icy northern wastes. Hadrian departed south, gathering his loyal followers from Charax and spreading word of a voyage to the paradise beyond this world. In the meantime, the Baron gave directions for an iron-prowed Icebreaker ship to be constructed, with metal-clawed oars and a vast storage galley. Lothar wrangled a large team of thick-furred Yetkins, hulking canines that would drag ships and ice-sleds as need dictated. When Hadrian returned atop a bursting slave-barge, all was prepared and the fleet of five made sail at dawn.

The journey took many weeks, contending with arctic winds and unpredictable swells. The fleet numbered over 500 souls, and rationing and maintaining morale was difficult. As the temperature plummeted, kromossus pelts were handed out among the crew, but many of the slaves froze to death. In line behind the Icebreaker's sharpened iron hull, the fleet carved into the icy north.

A week or two from their destination, the ships were navigating a frozen labyrinth of icebergs. Moored for the night among the groaning ice-walls, screams suddenly emanated across the decks, spilling the heretics from their cabins. They found only discarded weapons, the night-sentries otherwise vanished without trace. Fearing some curse or phantom, the crew are disquieted, and the heretics agree that a trap should be laid. Dropping anchor around a rocky island, the ships encircle a torchlit bait of fresh corpses and wait. But close to midnight, their quarry slips the trap, as skittering, multi-eyed beasts lurch amidships from the sea. These giant, white-furred crabs rampage amid the crews, tearing off limbs and gorging on hot intestines. Caught in a counter-ambush, the Baron smashes his heavy blade left and right, fracturing the creatures' shells and cooking the pale matter within. As he struggles through the snow, assailed by the creatures, a series of thunderous gunshots boom across the island. From the crowsnest of the Devil's Hour, Brinn's rifle spat a succession of kill-shots into the seething monsters, piercing eyes, severing ankles and blasting into open maws. While the crew pile the dead for sea burial, the commanders followed a trail of luminous blue blood back to the creatures' cave. Drawn out by the squeals of it's dying spawn, the mother-beast lumbered onto the ice, dragging it's swollen belly. Again proving his consummate skill, Brinn aims calmly through the blizzard, faces down the stampeding creature and places a bullet in its' armoured brain-pan.

Now tortuously close to their prize, the fleet limped on through the grinding ice-floes until the damage necessitated repair. Pulling ashore on a gravel-beach, the men located a large cave for shelter while the shipwrights worked. Days dragged on, the crew seeming to discover new and unexpected areas of damage. Mist boiling from the joints of his armour, the Baron soon loses patience and confronts the work-group about the delay. Surveying the hulls he spots clear evidence of intentional delay, and draws his blade to punish the overseeress. But as her visage blooms snow-white and wicked before his eyes, the crew surge forward to protect her. The Sea-Wraith drifts into the air, lashing around her with a conjured whip. Crewmen are scythed cleanly in half, showering her in blood as she unleashes an unearthly screech. Blue light emanates from the eyes of the gathered crewmen, and in unison they raise their tools and weapons against their erstwhile commanders. A hearty roar emanates from Hadrian's scaly throat; pumping shotgun blasts into the tightly-packed traitors, he sends sprays of necrotising flesh and bone splashing and splintering across the cave floor. He wades joyously into the scrum, goring, savaging and firing continuously, blunting their attack as Cyto musters his power. Squaring off against the ghostly daemon, Ctyo gathers an intensifying font of power. As Wesley and his other protectors collapse in agony, Cyto's robe billows around him and the ice groans underfoot. Mirroring the whip-crack gestures of the furious Wraith, he snaps off bolts of lightning to parry her attacks, finally unleashing a blinding torrent of pure white light that fills the echoing chamber. Rendered to ash by the soul-blast, the creatures' remains are desecrated, and the repairs are completed in solemn silence.

Entry 2.3- The Horse You Rode in On

[[The wreck of the Atrium Summi]]


[Apocalypse Delayed]
Cresting the icy hill, the Reavers of Bredale and Charax murmur in wonder at the immense metal corpse of the Atrium Summi. Some fall to their knees in awe, and many chant to their gods for protection. Standing on a snow-covered slab of hull plating, Brinn surveys the wreck through his scope. Spilling out of the Summi's belly, a tent-settlement of around 50 huddles around a juddering, re-purposed generator. Silhouetted by the dim light of dawn, the appearance of the Reavers causes a commotion among the survivors and as the barbarian ranks march down the slope of the crater, a thin line of Arbitrators stand in apparent defence. A wind-ruffled man in a Naval heat-coat offers a parley, explaining that he and his folk were left behind by the Judge on his last, hasty salvage-raid. Desperate for a way out of their frozen nightmare, he agrees to assist the heretics in exchange for passage south. Now proficient in the grating local tongue, the heretics debate the merits of enslaving the survivors over their heads, but ultimately accept their assistance.

The wreck is infested with "Ghouls", irradiated cannibal-corpses sustained by the warp. With the aid of the survivors, a path is plotted to bridge armoury - where vaults contain unknown treasures - to re-arm the Warp-Core and open a path to the Genatorum. Armed with short, chopping weapons and heavy armour, the most savage reavers take the corridors at a jog, hacking apart the monstrous ghouls as they find them. Plugging the corridors behind, crewmen with shields act as a stern-guard. Though vile and inhuman, the ghouls are fenced in and beheaded by gangs of reavers, delivering the heretics into the heart of the wreck. Upon the ruined bridge, vibrant pink daemons caper madly, immolating the first reavers to enter. Ready to seize their prize, the heretics burst into the chamber with Brinn's surgical support-fire whistling over their shoulders. Cyto matches his Doom-Bolts against the surging fire of the lead Horror. The elemental fallout melts floors, bulkheads and cogitators to slag before the creature is consumed. Hadrian's thundering bolt-shells erupt amidst the cackling daemons, but from each detonation, smaller, more grotesque horrors are birthed. Pinning each creature beneath his heavy boots, he cycles to his shotgun and executes them point blank.

Within the bridge chamber, a warded vault is broken open to reveal forbidden relics. Among the curios, Cyto finds a golden staff, coiled like a serpent and brimming with dark magic. A mighty Legio Bolter is loosed from it's chains by Hadrian, who braces and weighs the immense weapon with relish. A warlord's mask and mantle of worked bone and gold is claimed by the Baron, seamlessly overlaying and fusing with his features. And finally, Brinn reclaimed his Exitus Rifle, stolen upon leaving the Vindicare Temple-world. So-armed, they proceed to the final challenge, the Genetorum.

Flooded by 5 years of melt-water, the Engineroom is filled with steam, the stink of coolant, and the fitful rumble of generators. Edging though the now eerily quiet corridors, the heretics emerge onto dangerously tilted command platform. Skidding on ice, spilt oil and loose plating, several reavers slide to their deaths in the waters below, drowned by the weight of their armour, or burned beyond recognition by surges from the misfiring reactor. Wary of the strange readings, the heretics approach the arcane device, but are thrown from their feet by a sudden jolt in the deck plating. Smashing free of the wreckage, a vehicle-sized Wyrm bursts onto the platform. Fat from feeding on the warmth and fuel of the genetorum, support beams buckle beneath it's weight. It's slithering movement sends shudders though the entire hull, and opening it's eyeless maw, it reveals a nest of feeder-tentacles dripping with promethium. It vomits toxic nitro-fluid, gouts of it igniting as it hoses among the scattering heretics. The remaining reavers are slain, meat boiled off their bones by the bio-napalm. In unison, Hadrian, Brinn and Cyto unleash the full force of the firepower against the creature, raking it with bolts, detonations and ripping bullets. Its wickering shriek shatters the glass of scopes and visors, and with a sweep of it's hideous bulk it smashes them flat to the deck. With his companions dazed and bleeding, the Baron lurches free from the wreckage and takes a running leap at the creature's widening jaws. With a two-handed swing, he cleaves the monster's head in half, channelling his potentia-coil in a massive explosion of electrical force. A resounding boom shudders though the corridors, as the sizzling, blubbery corpse thundered to the deck.



The Summi's arcane generator was beyond repair, so the fate of Mundus was sealed. Slain by the winterwyrm's bio-napalm, the Enginseer could offer no insights into stabilising it's internal core. However, meticulously salvaging his neural cortex, the Baron succeeded at delaying the overload. Having bought themselves three months before the detonation, the heretics discussed their plans for surviving the apocalypse. Empowered by sufficient sacrifices, Cyto revealed that he could teleport them to Hadrian's distant tower Charax, hopefully outside the blast radius. Eager to salvage his many investments, the Baron sailed with all haste back to Bredale, planning to bear out the tidal waves aboard his fleet. Taking the reavers and desperate imperial survivors, this left Hadrian's army of worshippers to fuel Cyto's escape ritual. Tens of thousands of miles away, in the dry heat of the southern continent, they arrived in a storm of psychic disruption accompanied by the mewling, flesh-fused remnants of their willing sacrifices.


Dramatis Persona

  • Inquisitor Callidon: Newly minted Inquisitor, infiltrated the Atrium Summi to kill one of the allies of the Witchhunter who killed his master. Arriving on Mundus he set about gathering forbidden knowledge from the local population.
  • Sgt. Hadrian: Ex-Severan Dominate sergeant who turned to the service of the Chaos Flylords forces after weeks of torture. Recaptured by Imperial forces and being transported aboard the Atrium Summi for interrogation in the Tricorn palace on Scintilla.
  • Baron: Magos-noble from a tech-barbarian world. Adeptus Mechanicus took issue with his discoveries, and he was captured for transport to trial at the Lathes. Confined to an arrestor-pod during his time on the Atrium Summi, he emerged as the self-styled "Unsworn".
  • Lothar Brinn: Bio-enhanced assassin, once training to be a Vindicare assassin but cast out after rejecting the psionic indoctrination. Infiltrated the ship with Callidon, whom he served with in the past.
  • Cytogenesis: "Cyto", Sorcerous navigator, once a captive aboard the Atrium Summi. He managed to find an emergency pod during the crash and has gained power among the people of Mundus. Followed by his idiotic manservant Wesley.

Notable Persons:

  • The Dreadlord Zivoli: Commands 20 ships of Reavers from his island fort Jordye Castle.
  • Justice Hayne: Once Warden of the Atrium Summi, now commands a garrison of Arbites and crew at Minas Colba.


Major Locations

  • Barad Pengali:
  • The Dread Sanctum of Ages:
  • Hrthlonde:
  • The Fortress of Candusa the Possessed:
  • Barad Calgi:
  • The Desolution of Kilassu:
  • Byne Keep:
  • Bybury: The Jewel of Falonde:
  • The Ruins of Minas Cochla:
  • Eliombar:
  • The Keep of Broken Worlds:
  • Bertivik:
  • The Fortress of the Shadow Knight: Built entirely out of icey rock and occupied by the daemonic servants of the Shadow Knight, a Daemon Prince.
  • Wahyrst: Town of mixed human and mutant population. Led by a mayor and surrounded by farms that supply it, it enjoys the relative safety of its inland location.
  • The Magical City of Teham: Population 5100, all mutants. The city is defended by a series of arcane wards that set non mutants on fire. It is governed by a senate of elected representatives, known as the Synod of Eleven.
  • The Tower of Broken Worlds:
  • The Five Cities of Dorasea: Population 70,000 , primarily human, some mutants. The greater city is actually a set of five islands, each devoted to a belief. Each island is governed by a representative whom meet at the largest island. It was struck by an earthquake recently, and many buildings are in ruins.
  • Jordye Castle: This concentric castle has battered stone walls and an acidic moat, and a small keep. The male lord of the castle is an old blind warrior named Zivoi the Dreadlord. It is inhabited by seaborne warriors whom raid the seas and conduct tasks for their lord under his Kraken banner.
  • Weford: A town outside where the players escape shuttle lands. Population 1800, mostly unaligned human, 20% mutant population. The town is a labyrinth of winding, narrow streets and dark alleys. It is governed by a mayor, a male human named Ziva. The Temple of the Luminous Lords is a common destination for religious pilgrims on the planet.
  • Glanwrtyn: Population 1600, mostly human and mutants. The town is built upon a grid of streets and alleys. It is governed by a court of aristocrats, known as the Senate of the Orb. Sturieva was struck by a plague recently, and many buildings are empty or in ruins. Paid supplication of 200 slaves to the Baron for not being raided.
  • Bredale Castle: This walled castle sits upon a rocky cliff overlooking the seas. The male lord of the castle is an old cleric named Ctana, and it is defended by an order of paladins. The paladin follow a symbolised two headed eagle and reside in the castle for the most part, only leaving to quash mutant cities that spring up.
  • Wamor, City of Miracles: Population 5800, primarily human. The city is defended by a series of arcane wards. It is governed by an order of mage knights whom swear allegiance to one known as 'Samsuma'. A College of the Magical Arts is located here.
  • Bertivik:
  • Llane:
  • Negrothon: Population 8600, primarily humans. The town sits in the fork of a large coastal river. It is governed by a consortium of wealthy merchants, whose bizarre laws and decrees are commonly ignored. Raided by Hadrian for resources over a month.
  • Minas Colba: Once ruined castle in the northern wastes built by a paranoid madman in an age past. Now occupied by Imperial survivors of the crash of the 'Atrium Summi'.
  • The Bastion of the Gargoyle Queen:
  • The Abbey of the Fallen:
  • The Citadel of Abidid:
  • The Desolation of Gezaru:
  • The Imperial City of Cagrove:
  • The Fallen Star: Wreck of the 'Atrium Summi', located to the north-west of the castle of Minas Colba.
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