Carnage Titan

“We finally have him!” Shale felt her heart pounding and the blood race through her veins.

“He'll not escape us now,” the burly sergeant growled beside her. “Calm yourselves and let my men through.”

Shale turned and motioned to her people. There was anger and rage in their eyes, but fear as well, plenty of that. Some carried pitchforks and picks, while others had grabbed old weapons, rusted swords, and axes. They looked like an unruly mob, one that wanted satisfaction, one that wanted answers for the devastation wrought upon them, but the soldiers were here now, and it was for them to carry out justice.

“Let the soldiers through, let them take him!” she called with raised hands.

She saw flashes of armor through the gaps as warriors forced their way between the throngs. Some of the mob shouted curses at the man cornered against the rock face, others looked relieved that it was all coming to an end. And then the laughter started. It was a flightless titter at first, barely audible above the commotion, but then it grew into a crazed cackle. The noise echoed within the beaked mask he wore, making him sound like a complete lunatic.

“That's enough of that, Blight,” the sergeant barked. “Your reign of madness has come to an end. Put him in chains, men.”

“Enough of this, enough of that,” Blight chattered between prolonged bouts of laughter. “Madness will never end, it has a hold of us all you know.”

As the soldiers started towards him a metallic shriek ripped through the air, reducing everyone to silence apart from the deranged sniggers of Blight. A giant shape stepped from the cave nearby, the mob's torchlight flickering across its black and silver armor. Two red eyes burned from within the horned helm and long, vicious claws twitched as its gauntleted hands flexed.

Shale gasped. It must have been three times as tall as the sergeant standing beside her. She could feel the panic spread behind her, quickly followed by the sounds of tools and weapons being dropped to the ground and footsteps running away. She would have joined them, but she was rooted to the spot, fear curling about her legs and holding her firmly in place.

The soldiers turned towards this new threat and charged, only for the front rank to be swept aside by a devastating backhand from the creature, sending them flying into rock and bushes. The other warriors hesitated, coming to a halt as Blight's voice twisted into an evil sneer.

“Finish them my beautiful titan, reap complete and utter carnage!”

And so he did. He was called Holicrai the Magnificent and without doubt, he was the finest Gloridax guardian in the history of the land. He was as feared as some of the dragons that lived on Dragon's Roost. The people of Draykh-Nahka would sing songs about him, and the ancient scholars would say that the sagas told about him didn't do him justice. When he passed to the other side, they took his armor and displayed it in the Warrior's Hall, deep within the Centrum. His bones were laid to rest in the Guardian's Chapel on the far side of the city, a shrine open to the people so they might pay their respects for all he had done.

It cost Morloth, the crazed tinker, not a single penny to acquire the armor. The Chaos Legion had brought it to him, together with a long, thick bone from the chapel's tomb – probably the femur he guessed. He didn't ask them how they'd come by it, and the strange man that conveyed the delivery was most peculiar indeed. He wore a long black coat and top hat, with a bizarre beaked mask and shimmering green amulet about his neck, carrying a lantern that pierced the night. He spoke to himself as much as he did to Morloth, and by the end of their conversation, the tinker wasn't sure who he was more afraid of, the entire Chaos Legion that had descended upon the land, or this one strange man that was standing before him.

Using the green crystals that he'd fuelled the Disintegrator with, Morloth set to work hammering away at the pieces of armor and fusing parts of the bone to the metal. Night passed into morning, as he sharpened its metal fingers into deadly claws, each one as long as his forearm. Then daylight came and went, the cycle repeating until he had lost complete track of time. He took sips of water from the various flasks that littered his workshop, and when the paltry reserves of food ran out, he chewed upon the green crystals themselves, sucking the energy from them. Partway through his labors, Morloth had to drag his creation from the workshop and set a canvas tent outside to continue, so big was the masterpiece. When it was time to attach the head, he rolled the lump of metal across the ground and fused it to the shoulders. Finally, he started work on the impressive helm that would conceal the giant green crystal that fuelled the creation's mind and body.

When finished, Morloth collapsed in a state of complete exhaustion. He awoke later to find that his creation was gone. The terrible Carnage Titan had come to life and left him whilst he slept. He never did learn where his golem had gone, but then, nor did he discover how fortunate he was that it didn't tear him to pieces before it left.