We got so many more fantastic entries to our Win a Titan competition than we were expecting, we decided than more prizes were needed.
Last week we announced all of the Titan winners. Today and tomorrow we’ll be announcing runners-up. Each one was chosen from the best of the entries by one of the guys from the Forge World customer service team, and each winner will be getting one of our four Cerastus Knights!
Our fist runner up is Jake O of Leamington Spa, UK – we’ll be sending you a Cerastus Knight-Lancer.
Gary chose Jake’s story as his winner. Gary says: The name of Jake’s Titan totally grabbed my attention and forced me to read more. The image of this scarred battle Titan squaring up against engines twice it’s size was just awesome. Great work Jake!
You can read the story of Jake’s titan Sweetest Oblivion here:
The Sweetest Oblivion is a Chaos Reaver Titan. It was formerly known as the Ex Nihilus of Legio Impactor, one of several Titans left for dead after the Legion’s crushing defeat and almost total annihilation at the hands of the so-called Witch Lords Traitor Titan Legion, at the Defence of Carcos.
The Ex Nihilus was presumed destroyed after it received a direct hit to its head from the Volcano cannon of the infamous Traitor Warlord Titan Phantasmagore. The Ex Nihilusstaggered as the laser weapon penetrated its shields and reduced its adamantium head to molten slag, then became still. All attempts to communicate with the Titan were unanswered and the damage to its head and bridge was visibly catastrophic: the Reaver was almost decapitated and so presumed lost with all hands. The Phantasmagore’s war horn growled in triumph to announce the engine kill and the sinister Warlord turned its attention elsewhere.
For ten days the towering corpse of the Ex Nihilus stood over the ruins of Carcos, even as the victorious Chaos forces routed the Imperial army. On the third day the Titans of theWitch Lords walked, leaving nothing but craters and the slagged remains behind them. On the tenth day, the fingers of Ex Nihilus’ Powerfist twitched, and then it woke. And screamed.
The Titan shrieked through its amplifiers, a static cry of anguish and torment. Its plasma generator reignited and its single remaining eye illuminated with cold blue light in the charred remains of its head. It looked to where the Witch Lords had gone and then, unsteadily at first, the engine walked once more.
Almost a thousand years later, the Sweetest Oblivion is often seen fighting alongside the Witch Lords, its distinctive ruined head making identification easy, even if all previous markings and insignias have been removed or defaced, replaced by indicators of its new name and allegiance. The titan is known for its apparent disregard for its own safety, often squaring off against opponents that outgun it, and deliberately lowering its Void Shields as if inviting oblivion.
The Sweetest Oblivion was on the field when Phantasmagore was finally brought low by the Lux Occulta and its Ventarii maniple, and it was heard to scream again: a sound of such anguish the princeps of the Lux Occulta described it as ‘the cry of a child witnessing the death of their parents.’
Luke chose our second runner up, Benjamin Tuttle of Walton, Kentucky, USA, who’ll be receiving a Cerastus Knight-Atrapos.
Luke said: Benjamin gave an awesomely atmospheric setting to a titan that had seen its fair share of action. It reminded me of an action movie that portrays a gallant hero not willing to give up till he actually died. TO THE BITTER END!
Here’s Benjamin’s story of the Titan Impaler’s March:
The massive chain dragged on the ground, sparking and scraping, connected to the barbed spear following like a lure behind it. The Princeps felt his mangled knee twitch in empathetic connection to his limping Titan as it haltingly tread the harsh landscape. Every laborious step produced the screeching of metal on metal and the grind of salt boulders disintegrating into dust under the great dragging spear. Mounds of bleached dirt pooled around his burden. Bitter ammonia in the burning wind slowly sheared the paint from the Titan’s surface. Whole armor plates clung tenuously to the carapace, clanging against the battered hull, threatening to fall free.
Bleeding profusely, his last remaining Moderatii struggled to keep the cogitators running. Only a few kilometers more and the Titan could rejoin its comrades for extraction. Only a few kilometers more of the proud, slow, and painful march.
The Princeps could barely make out the faltering heartbeat of the Moderatii, broken servitors and skull fragments littered in between the humming of wires and the jingle of metal shards. Groans shook the frame of the Titan as its sundered war horn emitted long, distorted cries of pain.
But the prize was proof of victory.
In the end, the remains of the first foul Chaos Warhound’s grasping claws completely impaled his Warhound’s leg. Static electricity had arced between the connected Titans as his war machine struggled to be free. Yet that final torturous boom, the screaming of the spear as it found purchase, still consumed his mind.
Thirty hours it had taken to coax his wounded God Machine out of the entangled pile of death. Thirty hours it had taken to tear away the limbs and armor from his defeated enemies so his Warhound could limp free. The chain and spear had bellowed in protest, tangled around his many foes. But that precious prize was proof of victory.
With a brief turn of his head, the Princeps heard his final crew member slump in his chair. The thud of his subordinate’s head scattered debris from the console, the final sigh of death distracting him for a mere moment. But that other sound snapped him back to attention. That grinding scrape of the chain dragging behind made his scarred mouth twist into the ghost of a smile. The massive Chaos Reaver’s head, impaled on that triumphant spear, was a great prize indeed.
That’s all for today, come back tomorrow for two more winners!
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