Forum adverts like this one are shown to any user who is not logged in. Join us by filling out a tiny 3 field form and you will get your own, free, dakka user account which gives a good range of benefits to you: No adverts like this in the forums anymore. Times and dates in your local timezone. Full tracking of what you have read so you can skip to your first unread post, easily see what has changed since you last logged in, and easily see what is new at a glance. Email notifications for threads you want to watch closely. Being a part of the oldest wargaming community on the net. If you are already a member then feel free to login now.

Welcome to the RPG thread for Commoran Nights - a Dark Eldar centric RPG.
To create your character, join and chat, please go to this thread.

Across the Hidden City of the Dark Kin word is spreading like wildfire. The Kabal of the Blue Shadow had attempted to kill Asdrubael Vect. The news that they had decided to attempt a full frontal assault, thinking a blitkrieg attack would be so unexpected it would work rippling accross Commoragh.

The tower of Vect stood damaged, scorchmarks and craters scarring the lower levels, the Blue Shadows forces had actually made it as far as Vects throne room, or so they say - but the master of the Black Heart had cut down the upstart rebellion, following through to cut the throat and trap the soul of everyone involved in the uprising and every member of the Blue Shadows.

But the main reason this story was spreading so fast, was the declaration made after the brutal retaliation from the Black Heart: The former Archon Bohuslav of the Blue Shadows had stolen an ancient artifact of power from Vect and fled Commoragh along with several members of his Kabal. In return for this artifact, and Bohuslavs head, the person(s) delivering these items to Asdrubaels feet recieves the slave shops and towers that previously belonged to the Kabal of the Blue Shadow.

As word spreads, creatures of the dark prepare to hunt down the fool Bohuslav and bring his head back to the dark city.

This place is going to madness. Vandir thought as he strode out from the Incubi temple. First Zairil destroys his own Kabal, leaving them all for dead on the Human world, and now the Black Heart, the lifelink of Commorragh itself had been attacked, sending shockwaves across the dark realm. In truth, Vandir cared a lot less about Vect than Zairil. But it was with excitement that Vandir volunteered to be a part of the hunt for this Bohuslav character. If it would gain him allies in the Black heart, then he would have a far easier time re-infiltrating his former kabal. He didn't care for slaves. That Zairil had had the audacity to rebuild the Withered Bone Kabal entirely from tube-born Eldar angered Vandir in a way that was entirely invisible, yet completely at the forefront of his mind; it was the driving force for his actions, each of which was bent towards one goal, however convoluted his objectives were: Zairil must die.

If killing another Archon first was the best way to achieve this, then so be it.

There were whispers that this Archon had gone East, out of Commoragh. Vandir would trust the street talk for now. Time to go.

Jinn awoke in his bed when he heard some footsteps, it was Klahan one of his friends in his gang. Klahan was not like any Dark Eldar, he has a gas mask, long red dreadlocks and grey thorn tattoos across his back. Klahan said in excitement "Have you heard! Archon Bohuslav has betrayed Vect, this is fething awesome, the person who brings in Bohuslav's head and the artifcact will get the slave towers. We won't have to scavange for Vaulkhere anymore! We will be free if we get our hands on him." UGHHH not too fast, I' have a hangover" Jinn look at him half pissed for being waken up but intersted "Hmmm, that would be intersting.... we need others or we will be toast. We will be toast like there is no tomorrow, I could probably take on that donkey-cave Bohuslav, let's get all the men and women of our streets to join us, we need weapons." Klahan look suprised by what he said "Let's not get too ahead of ourselves my good man, you were with some fine girls last night, took it out of you. Get changed, meet up with the boys and then we will decide what is going on." Klahan exited the bedroom.

Jinn got up and carefully put on his wych armour, he luckily lived alone. He walked into his bathroom to clean himself up then proceeded to the door, he picked up his helglaive and his grendade launcher putting them in their holders. He then got on his SKyboard and took off towards the meeting place.

Geez, this place smells like gak, like usual. The masses of low town is disgusting, you could easily loose yourself to slaverly, prostitution or even worse things down here. It was absoultely disgusting but it is home for him. Other than The Kabal of the Lords of the Iron Thorns and some other Kabals, most looked down on him, yet Jinn believed still he is simply better than them. He speed around lower Commorragh passing through the crowds his board slicing off limbs as usual and he speed to his gang. He maneuvered around a group of wyches of some cult he hasn't heard of dress in dark purple going to the arena just missing them, he heard some shouts. Oh gak! I must of knicked one of them.He turned his skyboard on full power and started hovering away as fast as could. He heard screams. He got out his grenade launcher aiming straight at the group of wyches. He shoot straight at them hitting them and killing them with majority of the crowd. The explosion was loud and huge, it would probably go unnoticed like most things he done at low town. Oh damn, that was badass! He will have to find his friends quickly now before they get bored...

Corium was falling, disconnected sensations flickering through him: the taste of spiced wine, the brush of a feather against his skin, pain, the face of his father, hollow and broken. All these feelings surfaced and faded before he could grasp onto them. The Iron spires of Commorragh flickered in a blur around him. The screech of scourges above him, as they dove down at bone shaking speed, weaving through jutting thorns and spires with delicate grace. Toxic crystals danced past him silently, like deadly flickering stars. He pushed his heavy wing out, control's his spin, he opened fire on his pursuers. His shardcarbine spat out in turn, clipping one of the foes torsos, causing it to crash into a jutted spire. His wings beat heavily, trying to slow his decent, and puspone his impact with the rapidly approaching ground far below. The largest of his foes crashed into him, spinning them uncontrollabley to the ground below. Amidst the struggle, Corium managed to slip his venom blade into the creatures ribcage. In a mattter of heart beats, Corium was able to slip the limp figure off him. He laughed, sounding like the cry of a carrion bird across a long dead land. With their Solarite dead, his pursuers broke off, in search of easier prey.

Corium span back around. He was too weak for full flight, and his adreneline sacks were almost dry. He lifted his heavy wings and beat them with all the strength he could muster. It was a futile effort as he crashed into the cold iron ground. Black feathers, stained with blood floated down slowly, as he pushed himself to his feet. With one arm supporting his frame, and the other clutching a wound, he limped into the shadows of the undercity.

He had been a fool, unaware of the deception that was born at his very doorstep. His kin who he once called brothers had betrayed him, thinking they would be able to lead the pack to greater glory. Corium would have his revenge, in time.

Tal Balarn loved the sensation of the wind whipping about his bare head as his Reaver hugged the wall of the tower. His comrades did the same, following the various twists and turns their Arena Champion led them through. Then, the Scourges came in view. At the signal, the Reaver gang increased their speed, accelerating to unbelievable speeds. One of the winged things noticed their approach, but all too late. Tal depressed the injector attached to his arm, allowing the Adrenaline serum to flow through. Time to get some kills.
Like knives through tissue paper, the jetbikes tore through the Scourges in a flurry of feathers and gore. Tal looked back just in time to see two of his changed kindred plummeting to the ground, their wings sliced off of bloody stumps. He watched one meet with a spire top to become a shish-kabob, and another flail helplessly in the wind. Three more winged creatures found similar fates.
The others in the flock caught on and now were firing their shard carbines at the riders. Through drug-altered vision, Tal could honestly swear to seeing the trajectories of the poison darts moving towards him. Whether or not that was true was moot, as he angled the speeder upwards into the sky to dodge them. Two Scourges followed him, shrieking their vows of vengeance and rage. Their wings flapped hard and steady as they tried to catch up with him, but to no avail. Suddenly, the rider's own Reaver bike sputtered from stalling. As soon as he heard that, Tal swung back down towards the earth and gunned the engine. He let loose with his onboard splinter rifle. The shots went wild, one merely grazing one of his would-be pursuiters. This was merely a distraction so they could look up. Tal leaned in so the Reaver's blades would be able to come in close and cut their bodies to shreds. Suddenly, they banked to the left and right. He had to bring his vehicle to bear before--
Too late! He saw the tower fast approaching him. With no other choice, Tal leapt from his manned missile. The Reaver bike scrunched up, then went up in flames as the engines detonated. As the Reaver rider fell to the ground, he searched frantically for one of his comrades to help him out of his predicament...

Corium crept threw the catacombs of lower Commorragh with his heart in his throat. He had made many enemies as a Solarite of the Iron Thorns, all of whom would give anything to find him in a weakened state like this. He had been half walking, half stumbling for a good three hours now, weaving along the winding, delapidated tunnels. He felt like he was being followed, but no matter how fast he turned around, all he could see was shadow. Corium pushed on, griting his teeth from the dull ache in his chest.

Corium passed beneath an arch four stories high, leaving the shadow choked catacombs, and entering a vast ampithetre with a collapsed dais at its centre. Here he turned at once and drew his blade as he called a challenge.

"Who dares to dog the steps of Corium the Solarite, show yourself!" he crowed.

A crooked figure half born of shadow emerged from the darkness.

"It is I, Umbra, and I would have words with you, Corium the Solarite" it said in a sharp tone, half bowing, which Corium took as a sarcastic show of respect.

"Well? what is it that must be said in a place like this?" spat Corium.

"Our Patron Archon Vileth of the glorious Kabal of Iron Thorns requests your presence. Will I inform him that you will attend to him immedietly?" replied Umbra.

Corium was alot of things, but a fool he wasn't. Umbra was almost begging for a fight, but this was not the time for that. He also knew that it wasn't a request, but a demand for his presence. Corium didn't rise to the bait, and steadied his hand.

"You can tell him I shall attend to him immedietly, Umbra of the Shadow"

Umbra frowned "Very well" he said as he slipped back into the darkness.

Although Vandir was keen to get this renegade Archon, he knew he could not do it alone. Vect had turned to the Incubi to carry out this task, but Vandir knew he would not trust them alone with this task. Perhaps it would be beneficial Vandir thought as he stalked through the shady streets, to ally with someone to bring in this prize. Vandir knew such an alliance would be shaky at best, but may perhaps be required - after all, Bohuslav would have his...

Drychera:
With a flash of purple light a small, sleek craft of midnight blue entered the dark city, the dim light of commoragh glinting off ancient curves and dangerous modern weapons, the ship came to rest in the spires of the Port of Lost Souls.

An ancient, drawn looking haemonculi, flanked by what appears to be two walking, masked trees steps into commaraghs rich, despair filled air. Yearssince she last walked in the city of her birth, she heads towards the Tower of Flesh, where... friends awaited her, and one of her numerous ratman spies waits to appraise her of the situation at hand.

An itch at the base of her skull starts as the prospect of a good hunt draws closer, combined with the potential to aggravate the grand houses, these youngling kabals of high commoragh made the thought that much sweeter.

She would benefit greatly from this Archon foolish enough to cross the upstart Vect.

There was a crunch sound. Tal grimaced in preparation for the pain and sudden death... but it didn't come. He opened his eyes and looked about. Sure enough, through some stroke of luck, he was still alive and in the city of Commoragh, and not in the realm of She Who Thirsts. He looked under him to see what had broken his fall. A great mass of muscle and popping veins lay sprawled under him, dead. The Reaver rider quickly got to his feet and stepped back in revulsion as he realized his savior was a Haemonculus's creation; a Wrack. Or, at least the ruined form of one. From the looks of things, Tal's falling body was moving fast enough to crush its spine as well as the rest of its mutated skeleton. He wouldn't be surprised if several organs had been ruptured as well. The head, covered by a gladiator's mask and twisted at an unnatural angle, seemed to stare accusingly at him in its last moment of unnatural life.
Tal decided now would be a good time to leave the scene and return to his Reaver comrades, lest he allowed the Haemonculus to know who had killed his creation. He swiftly found his way into one of the towers that stretched upwards into the Dark City.
Soon, he found a Reaver bike to steal and was once more speeding off into the twilight skies. Suddenly, another Reaver pulled up beside him.
"Nice fall you had there, stupid," the rider jeered. It was Corro, one of the Crimson Blade bikers. "It's a wonder your soul hasn't been pulled from this realm yet."
"I still was able to clip two Scourges, same trick you haven't done yet," Tal replied. Corro didn't have a response to that. Instead, he said, "Well, hurry up. The boss wants everyone to form up. He just got some interesting information."
"More arena games?" Tal groaned. "Come on, it's gotta be something better than that."
Corro grinned. "It is. Word is the Kabal of the Blue Shadow has been broken, and Asdrubael Vect wants the head of Arcon Bohuslav."
That had caught the rider's attention. "So it's a hunt, then? We haven't had one of those for a long time."
"Indeed," Corro replied. "We may be able to get some very important heads soon."

It is hard to say that anyone has friends in Commorragh. Perhaps it is fair to say that the opposite is entirely true; that everyone is alone in the dark city, and only temporary alliances for mutual benefit ever really happen. Vandir didn't believe that though, much like the fact that he didn't believe in any of the Eldar Gods or the Dark Muses, or at least that they gave even the slightest bit of attention to a mere mortal like him. Vandir did, however, believe Thornassa when she had said she would always be on his side. No one uses the word "friend" here, but that was what Vandir counted her as. Considering she had access to transports in the Kabal of Splintered Bone, she was a very good friend at this point. Her home was on the western edge of the Splintered Bone's Spur, and it was there that Vandir was heading.

He arrived at midnight, one of the busiest times in the spur. As usual he wore the armour of his temple, keeping others away through sheer intimidation. He knew that none would dare to oppose him that would be wondering the streets. He wondered just how these lower Dark Eldar kept themselves alive; after all, there was no way they saw enough bloodshed to keep rejuvenated enough. Their leering, wizened faces almost sparked some sort of emotion from him, but which emotion it was was impossible to tell. Beneath his helmet, none could see any sort of thought forming in his head.

Finally he found the apartment, and found himself thinking again. How is it that she doesn't have enough money to upgrade to something bigger? He referred, of course, to her apartment, 256 of the 14th floor. He made his way in without any trouble, drawing looks of fear and distrust from the others he passed on his way. When he reached the door of room 256, the inside was silent. He knocked on the door and waited.

Uthiel woke up, opening her eyes slowly, irritated by the light. She sat up, wrapping her velvet duvet around her, yawned a little, and rubbed her eyes. She hauled herself out of the cushioned pit that was her bed and went to fetch herself some clothes. She looked back into the bed. Bianca was still asleep. Good.

She fetched herself a silky robe and wrapped herself up in it, before strolling over to the window. Commorragh was just as dark and jagged and dirty as ever, a vast expanse of cruel, hooked buildings, jutting towers and twisting pathways, a nest of corruption and depravity.

And then she saw something was wrong.

The tower of the Black Heart was on fire, am inferno blazing around the base of the edifice, pockmarks covering its exterior. Raiders swarmed around the tower like buzzing carrion flies around a corpse. Uthiel was strangely concerned. Her Kabal's biggest source of assistance and resources was potentially compromised.

Suddenly, the door slid open, the segmented metal panel retracting with a noise like a sword being drawn. Myrael, one of her handmaidens, stood in the doorway.

"Sorry to bother you" she said. "But Asdrubael Vect requests your presence immediately".

"I understand" sighed Uthiel. "Tell him I'm on my way".

The handmaiden left, the door sliding closed behind her.

Uthiel went over to the bed pit, leaning over the sleeping form of Bianca.

"Sweet dreams" she tenderly whispered in her ear, kissing her cheek. Bianca stirred a little, but soon fell silent again. Uthiel turned around and strode out of the bedroom, the door sliding closed with an audiable shink.

Aeyrin took a running leap of on of the higher spires of The Dark City, as he soared through the air, he looked down on the city, laughing at those confined to the ground. He gazed down and watched a group of Reaver jetbikes slice through the air like lightning. Coming to rest on a nearby tower, he watched them engage some of his fellow scourges, slicing them apart and watching them tumble. He laughed as he watched one of them avoid a jetbiker, sending him plummeting, his bike exploding on a nearby roof. Aeyrin watched in amusement, but he had no time to idle. He had heard, well, all of Commoragh had heard of the Blue Shadow attack on the base of the Kabal of The Black Heart, and of their total annihilation at the hands of Vect. It was near a total annihilation anyway, but he intended to make it full. He neared the Black Heart tower, slowing his pace, gliding and circling around it... A sudden move would probably result in him being shot out of the sky. He came to land slowly on one of the flight towers of the base, surrendering his weapons too the guards, and strode down the stairs, intending to ask Vect or his henchmen where to start looking.

Uthiel stepped out of the raider onto the landing platform of the Tower of the Black Heart. She was resplendant in her black silken gown, embroidered wih brilliant green threads, and wearing jagged metal plate armour over the top. The guards stepped to the side respectfully as she passed them, none of them taking their eyes off her as she entered the building.

The Tower of the Black Heart was a hot and dingy structure, the sea green tinged ribbed corridors lit by dull purple lights. Various figures surrounded her; half-naked Lahmeans in glossy black segmented attire that looked more suited to a torture chamber than the bedroom, various warriors in various states of readiness, huge armoured hulks leading chain gangs of slaves for their master's entertainment, and disturbingly thin figures with large black feathered wings folded behind them, like a grossly oversized murder of crows. One of them she recognized as Aeyrin, a messanger of some renown who betrayed his own father.

Soon she entered the throne room, an enormous enclosure with a towering arched roof, vaguely reflective dark green tiles and violet lumniorbs casting a sickly light. At the head of the hall sat Asdrubael Vect himself, flanked on either side by a gigantic Incubus hefting an obsidian Klaive. Vect himself was an imposing figure, his wizened face and beady black eyes striking terror into any who met his gaze. Any, save for Uthiel. At her sight, he visibly softened and breathed deeply.

"So" Uthiel said sultrily. "You called?"

Empty. Just as Vandir had feared. Thornassa had left the apartment, almost as though she had been snatched away in the night. There was no proof that she hadn't. Her possessions, furniture and equipment lay undisturbed in her room; a meal had even been left half finished on the table slab. Vandir's optics cut through the darkness. she wasn't here, and from the looks of things, hadn't been for a long time.
How am i meant to get to Vect without transport? A movement in the doorway startled him, spinning to a defensive position instantly.
"Thornassa?"
"Vandir" she stated with a mix of surprise and distaste. "What are you doing here?" She cast a look back down the corridor, before closing the door behind her. "If Zairil found out-"
"He won't. I need transport to the Kabal of the Black Heart." Thornassa nodded in understanding.
"Vect's hunt. I had guessed you might be called up. There will be a lift at midday from Crow's feast. Go alone."
She pushed the door open behind herself before stepping into her apartment. "You should leave now." Vandir wanted to ask her more. About herself, where she'd been, about Zairil and his plans. But it had to wait. Bowing courteously, Vandir left the apartment, letting the door close behind him. He resolved to go back to her at some point after all this.

He found the lift the next day, riding to the top of the spire. Upon his arrival, Vandir noted that others had already arrived. Making his way into the throne room, Vandir bowed silently to Vect, before standing silently at the back of the room, awaiting Vect's briefing.

The kabal of the Iron thorns lingered as a shadow of their former power. Sulking on the fringes of Commoragh, behind the fiery light of their more powerful cousins. Their intimidating fortress spire gave the illusion of strength, but their power was shattered. More than half of the kabal had either perished over the years of raiding, or left in service of more powerful patrons. The kabal has been crushed under the rule of Archon Vileth, who lives in a state of perpetual orgies and madness.

Corium was led through the collapsed galleries by the crippled Haemonculli Umbra. Centuries of neglect causing the ceiling to buckle over its support columns. Rows of slaves were chained to the walls, their faces contorting as they screamed for a quick death. Corium couldn't help but feel a flush of excitement. Dead creatures lay broken among the rubble of collapsed walls. Far away, in the dark corridors of the fortress could be heard a low banging. It was more an asylum then a fortress thought Corium, but such thoughts were to be kept to himself, Archon Vileths bouts of rage were one of the many reasons the Kabal is broken.


"Stay here as I fetch our most benevolent Lord" sneered Umbra. Coriums juvenile imagination and the fact that he was devoid of any sanity whatsoever created such destructive potential which has always entertained Archon Vileth, something
which Umbra despised him for.Corium danced over the remains of one of the slaves, delighting in seeing the patterns of blood smearing on the marble floor. A voice so deep and excited it slurred snapped Corium back to attention,
as he thrust his leg through the Slaves orbital bone.


"Favoured Corium, how it please me to see someone enjoy my court" Vileths dark brown cloak, adorned with charms and fetishes clung to his spiked armor as he strode down the ruined marble steps, followed by the wretched Umbra. Veins pulsated under Umbras thin pale skin at the un-masked insult to him, and the praise directed to Corium.

"Lord Vileth" replied Corium, as he bowed deeply, soaking his cloak of feathers in the blood stained floor.

"You know doubt heard of the treachery borne on Lord Vects own doorstep."

"Tis truly a gods-damned omen" Corium said theatrically

"Quite, long shall we mourn. Vect has however offered quite a prize for the dead Archons head. Come, we have acquired someone who might help us with this en-devour"

The Reaver gang took shelter in an abandoned compartment building to lick their wounds and boast about their kills. It was a good night so far, full of exhilirating kills and spills. Now, they began to turn their attention to the matter at hand. The leader of the Crimson Blade reavers headed off to Vect's tower in order to gleam some information regarding the fallen Kabal's survivors.
Two of the riders were lounging on the roof of the building, their lithe forms silhouetted against the twilight of the Commorran sky.
"Wow, will you look at that?"
Tal didn't turn to look.
"Hey, stop looking for your tubes and look at this?"
Sighing in irritation, Tal finally turned his head.
"So the Tower of the Black Heart is on fire. Big deal," he said, going back to his business. As it turned out, Tal may have used his last dose of Adrenaline shot during their last skirmish not two hours ago. After tossing out several empty vials, he found just two which were occupied. These were emergency doses of stabilizers, something he reserved for a worst-case scenario. For now, he wouldn't need them, but if he couldn't find more stimulants within the next few hours... he shoved those thoughts aside.
"When's the boss coming back from Vect's little party?" he said.
"Despite what you may imagine," Corro replied, "It's not a party. Vect is supposed to give us some info on the Blue Shadow remnants who are still alive. When the boss comes back, he'll let us know what we need to do."
"The sooner the better. I itch to kill again," his colleague said.
"Betcha can't do it without a hit."
Bloodshot eyes turned their focus on Corro. "Is that a challenge, purist?" Tal bantered.
"It is, druggie. I've been able to keep up with your score without the help, and I think you wouldn't be able to do the same," Corro said, revealing filed teeth.
Tal's forehead formed moisture. A single drop of sweat ran down his side. After a few moments of silence, he spoke again. "Fine. But you owe me twenty shots if I can make five target kills while sober."