Hello all! Now, as you likely won't believe given my assaults on the Human Language, I enjoy Warhammer. I've loved it since I saw the store in the mall, with rows of tiny plastic men in bright eyepopping colors, felt the ferocity that seemed to radiate from each model and the sheer possibility. However, as I was a child, I was a spoiled brat and couldn't handle basic construction and made people who don't thin their paints look professional. That, combined with frustration with certain players and the Necrons made me give up on playing the game. However, I kept collecting the books, and now I have a sizable amount of Black Library novels. Recently though, in a way to cross both my love for the universe and for giant robots, I've gotten into Adeptus Titanicus. With glee I felt the joy of putting together a model again, seeing a mass of parts become a beautiful God-Machine, posing them in dynamic poses that made it impossible to properly place armor or decide which way is forward, but which did nothing to diminish my excitement. It only grew as I put together legos, ready to play with my brother to test it out. As I only had one starter set, I took two titans and he took two, and we duked it out in a colorful lego decorated table that drew a lot of ridicule.
Suffice to say, I fell in love with playing this game.
Therefore, as well as already buying more Titans and my brother ordering his own sets, I've also decided to express my happiness and tell the story of the battle we had amongst all the pink legos. With some events changed and heavily edited, it's 3 am and I don't remember everything, and I'm finding ways to justify the Dice Gods.
Tl;dr This is a serious attempt, so you won't be scarred like you will by my other work. Also, while you're here, the introduction isn't needed to read the story, it was just the flimsy excuse we made up to justify the battle because the joy of miniature gaming is the stories far more than it is about winining. Enjoy, for I have not come to hurt you today. At least, not on purpose.
With some trepidation,
Burke
P.S. Legos make good Titanicus Terrain if you have enough
Introduction
The proto-hive of Phosphor IV was on fire. Officially named "Phosphor Gamma III" by some unknown office drone, it was known to its inhabitants as "Rivervale". Established only a little more than a century prior after the cleansing of a minor xenos race, it nonetheless had quickly grown to a sprawling mess, many levels buried as the elite moved inexorably upward, leaving the poor and destitute to fester and populate the lower levels.
As the crusade progressed, this world remained unmolested. The Elite continued to grow wealthier, the Mechanicum founded several manufactorums using the wealth of resources located on a mineral rich moon orbiting the planet, and the southern hemisphere was populated with large swathes of agricultural zones. With a laissez-faire policy to trade and stable warp currents around the planet, the world became a haven for all sorts of characters, such as Rogue Traders, Cultists, Criminals and those seeking a new home.
This golden age was not to last. As the Emperor returned to Terra, he sent out many officials to collect tithes from many worlds that had before then been allowed to opt out for various reasons. Phosphor, having used many excuses, such as the originally low population and its relative isolated position were no longer useful, and for the first time for many of the elites, they found themselves forced to answer to petty officials from a distant Terra, with resources originally bound for crusading legions being redirected towards worlds in Segmentum Solar. Along with these interruptions, many Rogue Traders found they were being increasingly weighed down with requirements and regulations from Adminstratum drones, and tithe requirements were increased worldwide, causing many of the noble houses to feel the weight of the new era directly in their vaults.
Thus, it would come as no surprise that when Horus turned traitor and began his warpath towards Terra, Phosphor was amongst those worlds who turned against the Imperium they felt were abusing them, with many of the noble houses openly aligning themselves to the Dark Gods.
However, despite declaring allegiance to the Warmaster, the leaders of Rivervale did not expect to see those below them rise in such high numbers. But rise they did. As the leaders in the upper reaches fell to chaos, many in the lower levels flocked to the leadership of members of the Imperial Cult, who had come to ease their suffering at the hands of large scale crime and trouble. Thus, when the world declared its allegiance to the Warmaster, the lower reaches rose up in rebellion, praying to their God-Emperor for deliverance.
With their city in rebellion and division across the world, neither side could get an advantage over the other. This seemed to end, however, when a fleet, loyal to the Emperor, appeared in orbit above the world, disgorging its passengers of millions of soldiers of the Imperial Army, several Imperial Knight houses and even several maniple detachments of the Collegia Titanica. With these reinforcements, the war finally swung in favour of the loyalists, and many of the outlying regions were returned to the Emperor's light, and sensing their defeat was at hand, the Traitors turned to their Gods and pleaded for help as well.
Their prayers were answered, and a larger Traitor fleet, the same fleet that had originally conquered the world appeared, forcing the loyalist fleet out of orbit and settling in, disgorging a similar component of Soldiers, Knights, and a legio of their own Traitor Titans. With these forces, the Loyalists, having had time to dig in, fought the reinforcing traitors with the same fury that they fought the natives who had turned against their Imperium.
While most of the heavy fighting occurred on the Moon, fierce fighting erupted around Rivervale as well, Loyalists holding much of the hive, under siege and beleaguered. The Traitors Forces held the upper hives and much of the docks, having retained control of the gates and much of the armouries. As the war around the city walls raged, both Traitor and Loyalists attempting to secure the land surrounding the city, the Loyalists sought to use their rebelling allies within the city to cripple the city's defences and give them the upper hand. For this, the Loyalist general had a bold strategy. With the access from air and ground cut off, he decided to send troops deployed to the Agri regions to take a grand dock, there to fill up ships and transport them into the city in combination with a large ground offensive, hoping to get enough troops through to bring the city under their control and crush the traitors. To ensure this was completed, he deployed what Titans could be spared, two God-Machines, a Warhound and a Reaver to move as quickly as possible, hoping to use their speed and overwhelming power to swiftly destroy the dock defenses. What he didn't know, however, was that there was a mirrored Traitor pair, having divined the Loyalist intent, were moving for the same objective, hoping to surprise the loyalists and prevent them from gaining an upper hand...
Loyalist Warhound
The Warhound bounded through the marsh, rushing to the dock. The Princeps, a large man, leaned forward. He looked towards his Moderatii, his sole organic eye green like a sharp Emerald, watching their hands move across their boards. The one to his left wore a mask of a snarling wolf, and seemed to stab at his controls with every stroke. The one on his right wore nothing on his head, allowing unrestricted access to his data port on the back of his neck and allowing his blonde hair to stand free. His fingers shook as he clumsily moved through the auspex reports, his panic and grief at the losses of the Warhound's Battle Group bubbling through the Maniple connection, despite his benedictions whispered under his breath. Despite attempts at professionality, the Princeps could see both becoming sloppy and even felt it in his mind as he focused on the area around the titan. Seeing that he had several kilometers, he focused again on the Moderatii on his right, a thin, rakish man with dirty blonde hair assigned to manage the Titan's weapons and sensors.
"Beltrann." he intoned, a deep gravelly voice seeming to reverberate around the bridge. The blonde man turned, looking slightly guilty and sweaty. "Y-y-y-Yes Princeps?" The Princeps internally sneered at the hesitance and cowardice, but kept it isolated from the Maniple connection, seeking to avoid angering the Machine Spirit. "Tell me. Why are you praying?" Beltrann looked around as if he were a juvie at a schola, then hesitantly answered "To-to please the Machine Spirit, P-Princeps".
The Princeps stood, anger causing a red light to appear on the other Moderatii's board, who flipped a few switches and shut if off while nervously eyeing the Princeps out the corner of his eye lens. "Don't lie to me, boy. You don't pray for the spirit. You pray for your cowardice!" He let out a low growl as the blond looked down, then, with a glance at the sensors to assure he had time. Seeing the accompanying Reaver still some distance back, he ordered the titan to halt. The Machine Spirit quailed at this apparent denial of the hunt, but he clamped down on the spirit, forcing it into docility, before he focused back on the boy, who had looked in shock at the halt but wisely stayed standing other than to grab his console for stability. "Tell me Moderatii. What is your purpose on my God-Machine?" "To operate the weapons".
"Moderatii, hit Beltrann". The blonde grew pale as the masked Moderatii stood up and walked over, pulled his fist back and struck out as hard as possible, catching the blonde across the cheek, sending him sprawling. "Stand up" the Princeps ordered in disgust, watching as the other Moderatii moved back to his console as the struck Moderatii stood up. "That was for insulting your position." the Princeps said as he took a step towards the standing Moderatii, the cables plugged into his dataport moving along with him.
"You do not just 'operate the weapons'. You are not just some servitor. You are a Moderatii of the Collegia Titanica. With every order you give, you fire the fury of a god of war. You bring all the enemies of the College, and the Imperium to their knees. You drive fear into all who would oppose you. Your fellow may be the legs that carry the Javelin, but you are the hand that delivers the spearpoint into the enemy's heart. You don't just operate weapons, you are the fury of the Omnissiah made Manifest! Every shot is your prayer, every dead enemy a monument for the Imperium. This is battle, and you are the avatar of destruction that will destroy all who face you. Don't waste your breath or your mind on cowardice! You are Destruction, and you will bring your hate on your enemies! Now go back to your console, and speak your prayers to the Omnissiah with the death of the Traitors who would oppose his will!" With every word, the Princeps grew louder, until he was thundering. The Moderatii stiffened, something approaching fury steadying him, and he returned to his station. Both Moderatii seemed to move smoother, and the Princeps ordered a return to full speed, eager to make up for lost time.
After some kilometers had been traversed, the Princeps finally came into eyesight of the dock. A veritable forest of warehouses, bunkhouses, and other general facilities made up a small town stretching away from the docks including a large statue of an Astartes of what he assumed was a hero of some kind. A large administratium tower stayed nearby the southeastern side of the town across from him, and a large vox array stood nearby him on the Northern end by him. Surprisingly, it seemed to be abandoned, its inhabitants apparently having fled or been forced out, though by which side it was not clear. It was obvious it wasn't by boat, however, as a massive cargo ship was still in mooring, its cargo remaining only partially loaded and hastily left. Something felt wrong though, the partially destroyed buildings seeming as if they were hiding hordes of enemies in every shadow.
Suddenly, an alert made itself known on his sensors, and a second later the blonde Moderatii repeated the same alert, a contact. Seconds later, he got sight on the contact and gasped. It was another Titan! As he went to vox hail, he stopped, and looked at the visual feed. He felt his adrenaline spike as the distinctive hunch of the Warhound was made clear, the armor damaged but the symbol of the Eye of Horus clearly emblazoned on the hull, marking it as a traitor walker.
"Traitors. Drop to normal stride, power up the weapons''. The Princeps then immersed himself more fully into the Maniple, feeling his body become fully one with his titan. He felt his heart pulsate slower as his legs slowed down, then speed up again as the generators in his arms were fed pulsing energy. He performed a self diagnostic, hearing his Moderatii report. His Heavy Incinerator warmed up and his Turbo Laser Destructor chimed a confirmation as he moved in.
Feeling the thrill of the hunt, he moved into the ruins, walking along the bank of the river, hearing his Moderatii continually give reports on the Traitor Titan's position. It was moving behind a taller building on the south, seeming to suddenly vanish. The loyalist Warhound stalked through the open streets, passing the statue, moving south towards the last reported location of the Traitor Titan. As he prepared to give orders to move to full stride, he noticed something off in the street in front of him. Zooming in, he realized it was a footstep, massive to a man but small for most Titans, heading towards the tall Administatrum building to his left…
As he realized the trap he had walked into, it was sprung. Shouting an order "Reverse!", he swung the titan towards the building just in time to feel his void shield spring to life as bolter fire hit warp energy. The Traitor Titan bounded around the corner, smashing some of the building into rubble as it fired, eager to reach him. The Bolter on its right hand continued to spit hot lead, and he felt the heat on his generators quickly reaching critical heat. The Laser on its left hand fired and impacted the building behind him, the side of the building seeming to melt off in the face of the heat. He fired his lasers, seeing the bolts impact against the Traitor's void shields. He aimed his left arm at the Traitor, ready to respond with fire, but before he could fire his Moderatii shouted "They're out of range, Princeps".
The bearded man was pleased with the Moderatii's focused rage in the face of the enemy, and as he fired with the laser hoping to target the Traitor's legs which seemed to have been heavily damaged in a previous engagement, he suddenly had an idea.
"Moderatii, prepare to move forward, full stride. Fire all weapons on my mark." They looked confused but responded without hesitation. Good, the Princeps thought, the boldness of the hunter can only be matched by his patience and his trust. Without it, there's no ability to hunt as a pack. He had to trust his Moderatii to continue to keep their heads as they trusted him in order for this plan to work.
The Traitor continued to stride forward, eager to close the distance in its bloodlust. Suddenly, the Princeps felt his void shields collapse with a roaring sound, causing the traitor to halt its fire as it backed up from the blow out. This gave him the opening he needed. The Loyal Warhound howled as it charged forward, turbolasers now being matched by the Incinerator on its other arm. The Traitor, realising its mistake, attempted to reverse as he moved in, as he was too close for their void shields to protect them. This wasn't enough however, and flame covered them up and down as his laser spat fury, armor slagging off as flames raced to consume every open joint. It seemed to shriek in pain as it staggered, fire crippling servos and cooking the crew inside. Its weapons never stopped firing, but with flames covering it from head to toe, it couldn't see and fired blindly sending stray bolts flying everywhere as it staggered drunkenly into the building next to it, letting off a scraping metal sound that could almost be mistaken for a whimper. It barely stood up just as the Princeps ordered a charge, halting his flames only for a moment as he lowered the shoulders on the warhound and smashed into the Traitor, eliciting a squeal as it collapsed, flames reflected in its eyes as it struggled, legs failing and arms ceasing its barrage. It twitched some more before finally stilling. The Princeps stood over the Warhound, ready to eliminate any attempt to flee the burning wreckage. However, no doors opened or crew sought to escape, their retreat cut off by the same flames that destroyed their wolven steed.
As the Princeps moved to walk away, he looked towards the blonde Moderatii, and as he began to congratulate the man, he felt his form get shaken from an explosion as ammo from the fallen titan cooked off, shearing off some armor and wounding him. Groaning in pain, he moved away, finally noticing another signal on his long range auspex…
Traitor Reaver
She reflected on the past year as she strode towards the dock. She had been a staunch loyalist just months prior, and she laughed at her own delusions. She had stridden as a God of War, and entire races had bowed to the shadow she cast. Even the Emperor's chosen, the Astartes, knew to stay out of her way and gave obeisance to her mightiness. It bristled when she was forced to leave her titan in the care of the ants that claimed to be more important than her. They refused to understand that she was closer to her machine than the so-called "Omnissiah's chosen" who attempted to lecture her on how to treat her titan. What would they know that she didn't? She was the one who was one with the machine, who had been with it for decades. Then, she was forced to listen to the demands of bureaucrats who had never even seen a battlefield who tried to come after her for collateral damage, who criticized her for using her full arsenal! It didn't help that the Emperor had revealed his corruption, abandoning his Crusade, only interested in reclining in the luxury that his sons had bled for, leaving her as nothing more than a peacekeeping force in his reorganization of the Crusade's forces. No, only his sons and those who fought in the crusade, such as her fellow gods, knew what the Crusade was for.
Sons like the Warmaster. She had fought alongside the Lupercal when his legions were still called the Luna Wolves. She was the god that the Primarch had come to honor, approaching her in all her glory and personally giving her an oath of the moment with his Mournival as witness. Despite the small size compared to the glory banners that covered her holy body, she kept the paper, preserved inside the cabin as a memorial to the praise of glory untainted by the touch of political schemers and deluded Mechanicus priests and all the other unworthy.
With toadies of the lying Emperor attempting to claim her glory and the Warmaster seeking to save everything they had fought for, it was easy enough for her to throw off the banners of the Hated Emperor and join the Lupercal's forces. Even now, the Eye of Horus remained on her Reaver's right pauldron, a reminder to all enemies whose glory they opposed.
As she approached, she flexed her muscles, the Reaver's powerfist opening and closing as she got eager. She had received a report that the welp with her, a Warhound, had sighted another Warhound and moved in for the kill instead of waiting for reinforcements. She hoped that her "ally" was bleeding on the ground, that the enemy was still alive as she looked eagerly to breaking the Loyalist Warhound herself. Suddenly she stopped, a shockwave ripping through her mind as her head suddenly felt like it was in a vise. Agony filled her skull, just as the death scream of her brother Titan came over the vox. She hesitated a moment, the pain burning away the curtain that had descended over her mind. In that moment she was disconnected from her Titan and finally seeing through her own two eyes, she saw a horrible sight. The bridge once filled with cool metal and slinking wires was no more. Instead, a bloody red flesh substance seemed to cover everything. The two Moderatii in front of her were slumped back, eyes vacantly staring at a dripping ceiling, mouths agape as their hands blindly glided across their command terminals. Red pulsating veins lead from their dataports and their eyes into the terminals in front of them. They seem fused, a horrible man machine hybrid that seemed more of a part of the thrones they resided in.
In horror, she noticed they weren't alone in this fate. Her hands, clamped to the sides of her personal throne, had a growth over it pulsating veins melding into her arms and snaking up her body. Her mouth seemed to be frozen open, held by many of the same veins, and every few seconds a familiar copper tasting drop of liquid fell into her gaping maw. Suddenly, she realized it was blood. She looked up for the source of the blood and saw the oath of the moment above her, the one written by the Warmaster.
However, the once black ink seemed to turn crimson, leaking from the paper and across the flesh on the ceiling and slowly turning into the same veins that had spread through the entire bridge. The Eye of Horus was there in place of the Luna Wolf emblem and seemed to glint as another drop of blood formed from the center of the eye. She attempted to move, to rip herself free, and felt a wave of exhaustion and numbness assaulting her mind as the drop fell. Time slowed as she saw it and despite the impossibility, she knew that a fate worse than death awaited her if she kept drinking from the poisoned blood. Unfortunately, she was unable to do more than move her eyes in a panic as the drop hit her mouth. As it did, she felt a wave of anger crash through her frozen form, throat tightening in response as fury constricted her muscles. Her vision was red, and the shadow infesting the Titan and her mind roared...
The next thing she knew, she was standing on a hill overlooking the dock. Hesitating, trying to remember her purpose, she saw the movement of another Titan across the town, a double headed eagle emblazoned on its pauldron. Rage flowed through her at the sight of this insult, and the machine spirit growled with her. She/it moved forwards, seeking to destroy this rival Reaver who would seek to challenge her/it.
The Traitor Reaver roared its challenge, a God facing yet another attempted usurper that believed itself equal to prove its worth. The Loyal Reaver responded, moving towards her/it. As it did it raised its arms. On one arm, it had a Volcano Cannon, on the other the three barrels of a Laser Cannon, the mass of an Apocalypse Missile Launcher whirring on top of its carapace to face her. She/it laughed at the weapons, knowing it would not save them from their doom as she/it spun up her right arm, a gatling cannon that spat out hundreds of laser bolts, impacting against the usurper's void shield. The Traitor Reaver charged forwards, seeking to crush the false blood that the Anathema used to power his imitations in her/its fist. The loyalist strode forward as well, Volcano Cannon firing blinding bolts as its lasers spat hot fury and the Missile Launcher on its back opened up, impacting against her/its void shields. They seemed evenly matched even until the larger Laser on her/its carapace opened up in conjunction with her blaster, about to collapse its shields and leave it exposed as she crossed the gap.
Suddenly, pain shot up her/its right side as flames reached out to cover her/its flank.. Furious at this indignation, she/it halted fire and swung her/its arms wildly, accidentally catching her cannon on a building, creating a cloud of rubble and dust as she/it attempted to locate the source of this injury. Seeing the hunch of a Warhound, she/it howled, a baying need for its destruction filling her/its mind. Loyalist Reaver now fully forgotten, she/it charged forwards, shoving the Warhound against an empty mooring and leaving it bawling in pain with a blast of metallic sound as it staggered. She/it strode forward, ready to punish the Warhound for its foolish daring. Suddenly, she/it felt missiles impacting her weak rear as the Loyalist Reaver opened fire, alerted by the Warhounds signal and quickly pouring fire into her/its weakened Void Shields.
They suddenly collapsed in fire and she/it turned her carapace laser towards the Reaver, using its firepower to bring down the Loyalist's remaining shields. As the loyalist's defenses collapsed and its form was obscured, she/it noticed movement and turned her/its attention to see the weakened Warhound attempting to limp away. Sensing weakness, she/it screeched and slammed her/its fist down onto the back of the Warhound causing armor to buckle and the frame of the Warhound to groan as it bore the force of the collision on it. As she/it lifted her fist to strike again, she/it felt a renewal storm of fire piercing deep into her/it from the forgotten Reaver, Volcano Cannon melting armor as missiles struck seconds later and she/it quickly felt many of the systems within her/its body begin to fail as the arms on her titan stop working. She/it felt the gyro systems give out and it/she stumbled past the Warhound, crashing into the mooring while attempting to retain its balance. The Loyalist Reaver had opened up again, ripping past what remained of her/its armor and piercing deep into her internal systems. As it tried to stand back up, the flames opened up again, bathing her/it in a storm of fire as its servos failed. She was now on the bridge, and fire filled her world. The Walls bled, blood like oil feeding the flames as it consumed her Moderatii, their eyes still open and vacant and staring even as they melted and ran like liquid, the forces possessing their bodies retreating as she felt the presence in her mind disappear, leaving her without its comforting shadow.
Suddenly, alone and in pain, nothing blocked the memories of what she had done. She was assaulted with visions of all the dreams she abandoned in her heedless search for validation and the countless needless murders she had committed, families torn to pieces and worlds running red with blood on her hands. The pain of her sins gripped her, a tightening vise that refused to let up that could not be released, and felt a tear begin to roll down her cheek as she felt the flames consuming her body, her actual, organic body. The last thing she saw was the fluttering oath of the moment, the Eye of Horus burning as the pain and the grief mingled and she felt the claws of those worse than hell on her, drowning her in a wave of impossible teeth and dreadful intent
The Reaver seemed to stagger drunkenly for a moment, guns spinning silently as the machine spirit attempted to continue its last order, still engulfed in fire. It staggered a few steps into the river, then suddenly collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, crashing into the river and creating a massive cloud of superheated steam rising from the water and falling across the dock and the two remaining Loyalist Titans, their hulls blackened and mangled, symbols of the Collegia Titanica remaining miraculously untouched and seeming to glint before being covered by the choking mist.