NEW Kukulkani Releases!

August 19, 2016 AccessoriesCardsNew Releases  No comments


We recently updated the Stat Cards for the Kukulkani faction, just before the madness of Gencon descended. You can check them out HERE. You can also check out the new August releases for the Kukulkani at the CMON webstore by following the links below!

Kukulkani 2016 Cards
The Doom Seer (1)
The Chosen of Coatlai (2) 
The Kaachika (2)
The Outer Reaches Token pack

dag0812_kukulkani2016cards dag7011_-_kukulkani_-_doomseer dag7006_-_kukulkani_-_chosen_of_coatlai_2_

dag7014_-_kukulkani_-_kaachika_2_ OuterReachesTokens

For those that haven’t checked out our Token Bundles yet, the Outer Reaches set contains 80 laser-cut, acrylic tokens (made by those excellent folks at Warsenal), all the tokens you’ll need for your Kukulkani (and Dragyri, Skarrd, and Brood) forces. The set includes tokens that cover effects and statutes like Bio-Energy, Wound, Stun, and Activated.

To Celebrate the great news!

To celebrate the release of these cards and miniatures, our Dark Age Developer, Bryan Steele, has penned a few words to help introduce the Cult of the Moon to Kukulkani society. We hope you enjoy it!

…ahlp emee…” the battered and broken human mewled to deaf ears as he was pushed to his knees on the lip of the coatli egg trench. Red-tinged froth bubbled down his quivering chin before Ixchel’s thick fingers yanked his head back with a fistful of hair, exposing his throat. “Nnnhhh…” there was only a moment’s resistance from his flesh as the edge of her blade opened it. Blood erupted from the wound and splashed down into the piping that feed the stony orbs below.

“Drink deeply, my children,” Ixchel whispered, triggering the sanguinary irrigators to begin spraying a fine red mist onto the next generation of god-serpents, “your time to escape your slumber and feed is almost upon us.”

The grinding of the chamber door as it slid open behind the high priestess drew her attention away from the task, causing her to splash warm, sticky death down the front of her shins. A hiss of clashing temperatures pushed a carpet of steamy fog across the floor, the sound of which matched her exasperated sigh. Letting the draining body slip from her hand to one side, Ixchel turned to face the intrusion.

“There you are,” the low, gravely tones of war commander Quetzol sounded like chastisement more than a statement. He was flanked by two of the honored dead, their glittering crystal skulls staring silently forward as they took up positions to either side of the door. The clawed fingers of his gauntlet clenched into a fist. “I need a moment of your time.”

Ixchel’s technomantic senses could see the ribbons of bio-energy flowing all around her like individual wires on the invisible circuit board in the aether. Strands of light wound around both of the Kukulkani, laced in and out of the walls, stitched into the undying wardens by the door, and dispersed into the floor. She smiled inwardly at the fact that Quetzol felt threatened enough to bring fully powered bodyguards with him to see her, but that was nothing compared to the satisfaction of knowing that he could never see the entropic world as she can.

“Considering you’ve taken so much already, what would be another moment?” she clicked her tongue and sheathed her still-bloody blade.

“Six more members of my second ring’s fourth wheel have abandoned their orders to serve under the Moon Goddess’ glyph,” the staggered ridges that made up Quetzol’s jaws ground angrily against one another. “How many of them have you already mutilated?”

Ixchel fought the urge to slap her fellow war leader, swallowing her anger instead.

“Initiation rites and devotion ceremonies are to take place this evening,” she explained in tones befitting a parent talking down to a child, “once the sun is suitably out of the sky and the moon shines bright and full.” The steely gaze in her eyes punctuated her metaphor perfectly. “Why should that matter to you? Kukulkan allows us to serve as we choose, crusader.” She gestured to the honored dead, “Until that choice must be made for us. Surely you would not go against the traditions of our people.” She walked forward and tapped a claw upon the glyph of planetary conquest embossed on his golden chestplate. “Again.”

Quetzol recoiled slightly, taking a step back from her touch as well as her biting words. Motes of anger sparked off the knuckles of his gauntlet, filling the air with the acrid smell of ozone and overcooked meat.

“You overstep, priestess.”

“It seems to be common behavior in the leadership wheel, commander,” she bent the energy in the room toward her almost subconsciously. “Aside from discussing those who have found the light of the Great Mother, what brings you to the hatchery?”

Quetzol sighed. The debate would have to wait until after. “Macantha, my fifth ring raid leader, has reported in from her last incursion into the mutant camps. She managed to take three of the sharp-toothed captive.” He waited for some kind of positive response which was not about to come.

“What does that have to do with me?” she questioned flatly, pointing a finger at the nearly exsanguinated body behind her, “Your interruption might delay the next hatching.”

“For that I would be truly apologetic,” he replied, speaking more to the stony eggs than to her, “but these mutants showed signs of the life battery. They might know where next we should send forces to find it.” Quetzol took a deep breath and his eyes narrowed. “You have a way with the denizens of this place, Ixchel. You somehow understand their pathetic squeaks, and if these things can lead us to the heart of those mechanical abominations… I need you to question them.”

“You need…” a short laugh escaped her lips, “…me?”

“If it means making some use out of the mutants before their energies are siphoned, so be it.” The war commander swept an arm wide, stepping sideways to allow her to pass. “Macantha waits in the skiff hangar.”

“Let us not keep her waiting.”

The two Kukulkani sect leaders exited the chamber, followed close behind by Quetzol’s honored dead bodyguards. Warriors and laborers stepped to either side to let them pass in the corridors, dropping to one knee in much deserved respect. Even with another quarter of it still blocked or buried, their ship was immense. It was a long and awkwardly silent walk across the ship that ended at the thick bulkhead circle sealing the hangar from the vessel’s internal chambers.

“Now Ixchel, be prepared. The mutants are –,” Quetzol thrust his fingertips in the circular keystone and turned it twice, causing the heavy cog-like wheel to slide away with a loud grind, that was instantly replaced with his shocked gasp, “– free?!?” Behind the heavy stone-alloy disc was a much different scene than what they were expecting.

Diiiieeee!” one of the sharp-toothed mutants bellowed, a length of conduit rising and falling in her recently unbound hands onto and into Macantha’s ruined face. A few paces away the other two former captives were stomping the life from another of Quetzol’s loyal warriors. As soon as the door ground open, their blood spattered faces turned in unison like a pack of vrock whose feast was interrupted.

With a predatory shriek, they were up and charging at the new Kukulkani in the room.

“Savages!” Ixchel gasped. Even though it was two of Quetzol’s loyal dogs dead on the floor, heathen beasts from this planet had no right to shed Kukulkani blood and they would pay. The gravitic capacitors in her fingertips called her blades to hands in a flash, and instinctually she pulled the invisible energy threads of the ship to her.

“Get them!” Quetzol commanded and the honored dead surged forward, their crystalline skulls suddenly glowing from within. The Skarrd mutants were met by the two undying warriors, hefted scrap meeting bio-engineered claws in the center of the hangar floor. The ferocity of the savages was remarkable. Despite using makeshift clubs and jagged implements, they tore into the Kukulkani death constructs with surprising efficiency.

Fohr Kuhrwehhn!” one arcing blow shattered the smooth surface of nearer dead in a shower of crystal fragments and flaming sparks. The next split its hardened shoulder like an overripe melon left out in the flats. The next attack swung wide, leaving the mutant open for a claw swipe. The honored dead’s talons pulped the meat of the thing’s midsection, clacking rhythmically against its ribs like a macabre xylophone and sending the creature spinning away in a fountain of gore.

Ixchel extended two fingers from the grip around her knife. A lance of fiery energy shot from her claw-like digits, enveloping a mutant in coruscating flame. As its skin blackened, crisped, and retreated from the lick of superheated air its lungs fought for the air to scream. It was not often that the priestess gave in to her baser instincts, but she was filled with joy to cook this infidel on the hangar floor. So incensed was she that she almost didn’t notice the streams of energy bending and flowing into the war commander.

“Macantha,” Quetzol moved like a jungle cat. Two fast bounds and a final pounce put him next to the last escaped captive, grabbing the back of the thing’s head in his glittering gauntlet, “be avenged!”

“No!” Ixchel pulled herself away from her murderous glee, “we need to keep one –…”

Quetzol’s fist closed like a vice. Gobbets of Skarrd brain flew in all directions, blood steam rising from his gauntlet’s golden surface. He could feel the thrum of life energy being siphoned away into his internal stores.

“…alive.” Ixchel watched as the energy streams pulsed with the lives of the Skarrd being pulled away and, with them, any chance of learning what they knew about the robotic horrors. Leaving the smoldering corpse behind, she approached Quetzol. “You should have spared one.”

“There will always be more of this planet’s cretins to be taken, priestess.” The war commander stepped over the dead and crouched next to his fallen subordinate, cradling her caved in head in his hands. “There will only ever be one Macantha, Ixchel. Although I would not expect you to understand.”

“I still yet see life in her,” she replied, a tinge of genuine concern in her tone. Ixchel gestured to the one remaining honored dead looming eerily still nearby. “there must be vessels for her to walk again.”

Quetzol shook his head slowly, but a spark of ingenuity lit up the eyes behind his mask. “No, no. There is something far better waiting for this loyal soul.” He came quickly to his feet and nodded to his undying warrior. Crystalline face bereft of emotion, it hefted Macantha’s lifeless body effortlessly and waited for further instruction. Quetzol’s fingers danced across the command module in his forearm, a shimmering image of his high technician appearing before him.

“Your wishes, commander?” the image bowed its head slightly.

“Ready a tuucha’nak for an awakening,” Quetzol began walking back into the ship, the honored dead following a few steps behind, “I have the perfect candidate on its way.” He paused and looked over his shoulder at Ixchel, narrowing his eyes. “At least I know she will always remain loyal to the crusade.”

The high priestess watched him leave the hangar, and waited for the door disc to slide back in place. Once alone with only the dead to witness, she pushed a touch of energy into the communications suite within the chamber – causing the very same high technician’s image to appear before her.

“Pardon my candor, mother,” the image whispered looking over his unseen shoulders with obvious worry, “but the usurper is on his way as we speak! I do not have much time. He could discover…”

“I am aware of his approach, as am I his motives for coming to you. This will only take a moment,” she smiled wickedly.

“How may I serve the Great Mother?”

“Something is very wrong with Quetzol’s candidate for construct implantation, and I sense you will discover that fact too long in the process for the destroyer engine to be left unanimated. I will send a loyal brother to volunteer to take her place,” Ixchel chuckled quietly, “someone from the second ring, fourth wheel.”

“As the Moon shines,” the technician said quietly.

“Oh… and do be sure that our dear high commander is around when my volunteer arrives,” Ixchel grinned in self-satisfaction, “he should see what devotion to tradition truly looks like.”


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