DARKLIGHT WEAPONS
e weapon shops of Commorragh make many implements of war that seem to cheat the laws of physics, the most destructive of which are the darklight weapons. From the blast pistol and blaster to the dark lance and dark scythe, these weapons re devastating streams of an esoteric substance known only as ‘darklight’. is material reacts catastrophically with its target, boring massive holes in vehicles and vaporising infantry soldiers in an instant. Some claim that darklight is harvested from black holes, warp storms or other celestial phenomena; regardless of its srcin, its eects on the battleeld are utterly devastating.
SCOURGES
SCOURGES
If a trespasser were to climb amongst the jutting spars of upper Commorragh and stare
past the highest peaks, he might just make out winged gures itting and soaring upon the hot thermals of the city. Should he watch carefully, he might recognise them as the Scourge, Drukhari who have been refashioned into something far more deadly. If his gaze lingers too long, he will nd those same gures arrowing through the ame-lit clouds toward him, seizing him and impaling him bodily upon the spires of their eyries. Scourges are an intrinsic part of the lifeblood of Commorragh. e intrigues of the Dark City thrive on information, without which even the greatest Kabal is soon rendered impotent. Even the most secure transmission can be intercepted, and psychic communication is utterly forbidden. Instead the nobility of the Drukhari pay handsomely for the Scourges to take their missives to their
destination by hand. Each communiqué is sealed with tailor-made toxins, the
antidotes to which – in theory at least – are possessed only by the recipient.
e Scourges are so vital to the intrigues of the Dark City that to
kill one is to invite retribution from the upper echelons of
Commorrite society, followed by a very painful demise.
Considered the pinnacle of body modication, the metamorphosis from
Kabalite to Scourge is a lengthy and painful process. A rich and daring Drukhari may surrender themselves to the Haemonculi,
requesting that their bones be hollowed out by the cold metal drills of a Talos, that bands of new muscle be graed onto
their torso, and powerful wings and adrenaline dispensers be attached to their shoulders so that they are capable of true ight. Even should these procedures be successful, the individual is still not considered a Scourge, for they must then y all the way up to the trophy-strewn eyries to join with their new
brethren. Raw and bleeding wings carry the newly transformed from the oubliettes of the Haemonculi to the topmost spires in which the Scourges make their home, and the aspirant must ght through deadly fatigue, warring Hellion gangs, vicious Reavers and all manner of unnatural airborne terrors to get there. ose who make this vertical pilgrimage and still survive earn the right to call themselves a Scourge, one of an exclusive mercenary clique of sky warriors that look with disdain upon the earthbound kin they le behind.
Many Scourges – especially the veterans known as Solarites – are so far removed from their former lives that they grow quills from their skin, feathers in place of hair, or elongated skulls. No matter their appearance, they all relish the gory feasts of full-scale war. Because of this, and because of the wealth they earn from the Kabals, all Scourges equip themselves with highly advanced wargear. eir ghostplate body armour is supple and porous, made from hardened resins and shot through with pockets of lighter-than-air gas, which aords Scourges a substantial amount of protection without impinging upon their mobility. is armour also projects a small personal force eld around its wearer, allowing the aerial predators to withstand even the most withering re as they y. Many thunderous ak salvoes have fallen silent only for a ock of Scourges to descend from the skies unharmed. Scourges prefer to engage the foe at range, for they are protective of their expensively altered bodies. ey lay down punishing barrages of re, drinking in the screams of their enemies with their sharpened senses before redeploying and striking again. e weapons of the Scourges are hence devised to be red on the wing. e most popular is without doubt the shardcarbine, an advanced iteration of the splinter rie with a far higher rate of re. A ock of Scourges armed with shardcarbines can swily lay down a hail of toxin-coated projectiles, mowing through infantry or toppling towering biological monstrosities in moments. When equipped with shredders, the winged mercenaries can release nets of barbed monolament wire to slice through packed hordes of infantry. However, when facing a heavily mechanised foe, Scourges have a variety of other armaments with which they can sow destruction. e haywire blaster releases the electromagnetic energy of Commorragh’s captive suns in a powerful burst, and the heat lance emits a scorching beam that can atomise a foe where he stands.
‘Y
‘You thinkou think thatthat’’s s summersummer rain falling?
rain falling? Ha! IHa! It is thet is the blood
blood of of thosthosee whowho croscrossedsed the Scourges,
the Scourges, boyboy. Y. Youou cannot see
cannot see them, buthem, but yourt your foolis
foolish kinh kin adorn the spiradorn the spireses and crenellations of High and crenellations of High Comm
Commorraorraghgh liklikee grisgrisly ly frui
fruitt upoupon the boughn the bough .. UpUp ther
there thee theyy bleedbleed out out theirtheir last,
last, moaning and helplemoaning and helple ss,ss, impaled
impaled throuthrough andgh and through. No! Do not look through. No! Do not look upward! Catch a Watcher’s upward! Catch a Watcher’s eye
eye and and it it willwill bebe youyour blr bloodood that rains down that rains down nextnext……’’
- Edric Shiverhand, Slave-Elder of Gomor Sump
MANDRAKES
MANDRAKES
‘er
‘ere is a verye is a very goodgood reason why so many of reason why so many of the galaxy’s cultures and the galaxy’s cultures and soci
societieetiess are afraiare afrai dd of of the
the dark.dark.’’
- Inquisitor Bastalek Grimm
Within the shrouded corners of the labyrinth dimensions lurk all manner of nightmarish entities and subconscious terrors given form. Yet nowhere in the webway is more shrouded in dread than Aelindrach, where darkness itself has gained a sort of horrifying sentience, for it is the home of the creatures known as Mandrakes – a vile breed that is secretly feared even by other Drukhari. A Mandrake can pull itself into reality straight through another being’s shadow, emerging with a hiss to sink its ice-cold claws and teeth into warm esh. eir inky skin writhes with forbidden runes and their faces shi and ow, one moment sealing over into an expressionless mask, the next parting like a reopened wound lled with needle teeth.
Mandrakes exist both in reality and a cursed otherworld, and to ght them is to ght living shadow, for they are not fully corporeal. As their tangibility ebbs, shots pass harmlessly through them, though the same is not true of the Mandrakes’ own attacks, which always land with visceral physicality. ey are able to manifest anywhere that shadows gather in the gloom, and as such are a malevolent bane on night worlds and in war zones that are veiled in darkness. e planet Mordian – home to the Iron Guard regiments of the Astra Militarum – has endured multiple Mandrake attacks, the endish creatures appearing to butcher high-ranking ocers before receding from reality once more.
e srcins of the Mandrakes are shrouded. Some claim the Mandrakes descend from Aeldari who engaged in heinous union with unholy entities when their empire was at its most decadent. Others maintain that the mysterious stalkers are the successors of a forbidden cult that found its own way to escape the Fall, passing into shadow and emerging as something altogether more alien. Younger Drukhari call the Mandrakes ‘creepers’, whispering that they can slink from one shadow to another or crawl their way out of reections to emerge in the real world. ey believe that Mandrakes are unlight given life and, in many ways, they are right. All these wild theories do not seem so far- fetched when one considers the Mandrakes’ appearance. eir esh is coal-dark and seems to absorb rather than reect light, their features shi like oil, and their lank hair is as pale as splintered bone. Surrounding them is an aura of darkness and cold that saps the strength of those nearby – oen the rst sign
of a Mandrake attack will be a thin rime of ice hanging in the air. e twisting shapes set into their esh are sigils of destruction that pulse brightly whenever the Mandrake feeds upon the pain of its prey. Mandrakes are capable of channelling these stolen energies, shaping blasts of cold re that roar out from their claws to freeze their victims in place. When they fall upon their shuddering prey they do so with not only talon and fang, but also with blood-encrusted glimmersteel blades that are reminiscent of the surgical tools of the Haemonculi.
Like all the denizens of Commorragh, the Mandrakes thrive on the malevolent iniction of pain, and because of their unsurpassed stealth many a Drukhari Archon has sought their services when mustering his forces for a realspace raid. e Mandrakes usually ask for slaves as payment, but sometimes they will ask for something far more esoteric, such as a heartbeat, a true name, or a voice. Few Kabalite lords know the real price that they are paying, yet such requests are rarely denied, for Mandrakes go to war clad in the patchwork skins of those that have jilted or betrayed them. ey are infamous for their ability to track down their quarry, and when a cold claw closes upon an ankle or wrist in the darkness, the icy bite of the Mandrake is never far behind.
Even Asdrubael Vect was not safe from the reach of Aelindrach. Mandrakes penetrated every ward and sub- dimensional barrier guarding the Supreme Overlord’s inner sanctum, emerging with blades in hand to butcher the most powerful Archon ever to have lived. When Vect appeared once more and declared himself the Living Dark Muse, he enacted swi and merciless retribution against every Commorrite who had shown even a hint of disloyalty – yet his wrath was not visited upon the Mandrakes. Perhaps it is because they were knowing players in his grand manoeuvre, or perhaps it is because they strike fear even in Vect’s black heart.
rough the vortex-torn mists of each Drukhari raid come the twin contrails of Razorwing Jetghters, aircra so fast that their fusillades of missile re hits home at the instant the air is rent by the yer’s thunderous sonic boom.
Even the most conceited Archon knows that the armoured vehicles of the lesser races, though thuggish and unsubtle, are still potentially dangerous. A eet of Raiders that is intercepted by well-directed artillery re can oen nd itself repelled with unacceptable losses. To ensure that the foe cannot call upon such support, the Drukhari employ Razorwing Jetghters to sow destruction and panic in the midst of the foe, for while the pilots of Razorwing Jetghters are capable of running aerial interception, they are specialists in the wholesale slaughter of ground targets. ere is little that these pilots like more than roaring through an inferno of their own creation whilst mowing down the terried survivors scurrying below. ere are few enemies in realspace or beyond who are fast enough to outpace these aggressive and consummately skilled ghter cra. Each of their pilots was once an elite member of the Reaver jetbike gangs of Commorragh, and to them ghting at breakneck speed is second nature. Veterans of the Dark City’s death races, they have earned through countless acts of spectacular violence enough wealth to escape the arenas forever, and now seek to maim and
destroy everything they can nd without risking their own skins. e Razorwing Jetghter is the perfect tool for achieving this desire, a nigh-untouchable instrument of death and darkness. Razorwing Jetghters boast an array of diabolically eective missiles. When a squadron of Razorwings looses a salvo it oen appears as if the ground is being raked by monstrous invisible talons. Most surgically ecient of all is the dreaded monoscythe missile, remotely steered by the ghter’s pilot into the thick of the foe. e secret to their terrifying reputation is in their warheads; when detonated, they emit not a conventional blast but one that is constrained to a specic plane by complex inbuilt power-shields. A great horizontal sheet of force explodes outward at a certain height, decapitating or even cutting in half everyone caught in the blast zone. Such a clinical multiple kill is very satisfying to the jetghter’s pilot, for all Drukhari appreciate a well-administered death. Necrotoxin missiles have a similarly devastating eect against hordes of lightly armoured enemies. Within the warhead of each missile is a large reservoir of virulent poisons; the warhead shatters upon impact, sending shards of toxin-coated shrapnel tearing through the esh of huddled masses of victims. ose not instantly killed by the lacerating shower quickly succumb to the eects of brain-eating viruses and necro-dermal pathogens.
Perhaps the most morbidly inventive payload is that of the shattereld missile. is warhead actually houses two separate detonation cores. e rst of these drains the detonation zone of all thermal energy, transforming those caught in the blast to brittle statues; the second core then sends out a shock wave of percussive force that shatters its frozen victims into thousands of pieces. Along with its missiles, each Razorwing Jetghter also bears an array of other armaments with which it can reap the souls from its prey, including a pair of cannons mounted on the wings. ose pilots who take sadistic glee in mowing through ranks of infantry tend to favour disintegrator cannons. ese highly sophisticated guns re particles of unstable matter harnessed from stolen suns to swily atomise even heavily armoured targets. Other Razorwings are instead tted with a pair of dark lances, allowing their pilots to impale rumbling war engines and monstrous beasts with beams of darklight energy. But all of these cra bear nose-mounted twin splinter ries, which aord the perfect vantage point for the pilot to see their victims torn to shreds.
In silhouette, Razorwing Jetghters appear like jagged, double- edged blades, their crescent wings and sword-sharp curves conveying their lethal power. Due to their deadliness, they are also a symbol of elevated status, and pilots have been known to adorn their cra with the skins of enemies they have slain, both in realspace and within Commorragh.