The Kabal of the Radiant Abyss

Welcome, my friend. You wish to know about my most glorious Kabal, the Kabal of the Radiant Abyss? That would be why my warriors found you attempting to infiltrate my fortress, was it not? My dear, you had only to ask! I will tell all you wish to know, I just ask for you to return the favour! What's that? Your tongue seems tied! No matter, my haemonculus, Azhdahak, will be able to free that troublesome tongue, and it would be inconsiderate of me to free a guest back on to the streets of Commorragh while ill. You appear so pale! No, I think you and I shall stay and talk for quite some time...

PRE-HISTORY

I trust you know your histories? The tales of the Houses-That-Were, and the terrors of the Solar Cults? No? I suppose the half-born whelps such as yourself aren't afforded the educations befitting your Trueborn betters. Very well, I suppose I must rectify this issue...
Commorragh has existed long before the Rise of Vect, our glorious Overlord, long may he reign. Before Vect, at the head of his Black Heart Kabal, took his rightful place, Commorragh was ruled over by the Noble Houses, and were challenged by the Solar Cults. These Cults bound and controlled the Ilmaea, the Black Suns that even now bring light, such as it is, to our fair City. Using the threat of these suns, the Solar Cults controlled Commorragh in an iron fist, raining the wrath of the heavens themselves down upon their enemies, thinking themselves as gods among us.

After centuries of oppression, the Noble Houses of Commorragh put aside their petty politicking, knowing they couldn't attain the heights of power they desired if the Ilmaea could scour them away at the whims of the Cults, and the War of the Sun and Moon raged throughout the skies Commorragh.
It is a testament to our standing as a species that all of our wars have been Wars in Heaven. Our first War in Heaven, between the Dead Gods themselves. The Second, against the pitiful Yngir and their C'Tan masters, who sought to usurp our rightful place as inheritors of the galaxy. Make no mistake, the War of the Sun and Moon was simply the next War in Heaven. Millions died amongst the spires for the right to control the very stars, such is our mastery of the galaxy. We had established our place amongst the Gods and their creations, we had established our inherent right to rule over the galaxy, and now fought to establish that the stars themselvesare ours to do with as we wish!

Compared to these lofty Wars, each to further proclaim our dominance of all we see, what can our other forays into the galaxy be but culls? What are the crude machineries of the Mon-Keigh to we who have slain gods? But I get away from myself. It is this Third War in Heaven that we are discussing now...

I myself fought at the forefront against the Cultists. I, Aroshamash, second Trueborn son of Aroshanal, of the most noble House Ysdrach! You dare interrupt? Yes, I do not appear as ancient as I am, foolish ingrate! Even you must know that power has its privileges...
I was Warleader of our armies, as my damnable Father, and his heir, Aroshanal Second-of-his-Name, sat back and claimed the glory. Time and again, I fought and bled with our armies, for them to swoop in on their pleasure-barges, to take the choicest captives as their own. Little did they know, as I fought their wars, I was fighting my own, in rather more subtle arenas...

I led the warriors of House Ysdrach to many glorious victories, against the Solar Cultists tending to the Ilmaea known as the Crone's Gaze. Dreams of ambition took root within my heart, knowing that it was I who deserved to rule our House. I had been contacted by an agent of the newly-formed Black Heart Kabal, eventually even meeting with he who would one day be Supreme Overlord. He spoke of an end to being dominated by others simply by virtue of the circumstances of ones birth, rather than by merit. If I could adapt with the changing fortunes, I could have a place within the new Commorragh. If, when the time was right, I could prevent my Father and brother from intervening, my House could be reborn as a Kabal of my own. Given the likelihood of taking control of the House, and my hatred of my Father, I readily agreed.

While not prepared to move openly, not until Vect's planned coup, I began preparations, shifting the balance of power into my hands, while ever playing the loyal son. Our campaign to capture the Crone's Gaze began taking considerable losses, although only they only ever seemed to affect the forces of my Father's lackeys, while those forces loyal only to myself remained almost untouched. Over the centuries, one by one, the Solar Cults fell, and still I positioned my forces. I struck so suddenly, that by the time my Father arrived, the order had long been given to collapse the Crone's Gaze upon itself.
The Cultists had faltered at the last, too weak-willed to make use of their greatest weapon. The Ilmaea had remained contained, and now those wards were increased a hundred-fold, denying my Father from claiming that self-same weapon.

I still remember the look on his face when he came into the Chamber of the High Cenobite, where once the viewing portal that was the ceiling showed the malevolent glare of the Crone's Gaze, now rapidly condensing into a singularity. Such hatred he displayed, I do believe he almost saw through my performance. "Crone's Gaze no longer, Father! Welcome to the Sightless Eye. Now the Cults are truly broken! Are you not proud?"

The Crone's Gaze was one of the last Solar Cults to fall. With the Ilmaea shackled, what was supposed to be a glorious reign of the Houses instead became a growing cold war with the rising Black Heart Kabal. It became increasingly obvious that the Lords themselves held all the power, and with the Houses banding together to protect their own, unless one already held power at the head of a House, there was literally no means of obtaining it. Vect's Black Heart Kabal offered an alternative. No more would Commorragh be held in stasis, power only in the hands of the few by dint of birthright.

When Vect's coup struck, it struck with the ferocity of dead Khaine himself. I trust you know the story of this, at least? At least there is some knowledge within your pitiful head. Perfectly engineered calamity tore through the Dark City, consuming Houses Yllithian, Kraillach and Xelian almost entirely. Many houses did not survive, entire bloodlines facing True Death at the power-hungry hands of their underlings. Others proved worthy of surviving in the new order, reinventing themselves as Kabals, House Ysdrach amongst them.

When my Father called my armies into battle against Vect, my only response was an invitation to the Blinded Eye. He, and my worthless brother, were brought before me in the High Cenobites Chamber. Suffice to say, his pilot had not proved as trustworthy as my Father had believed.
As they grovelled before me, I granted them the True Death, drinking in their terror and their pain. I will never find terror such as theirs again, the horror of an immortal meeting death. Their corpses I fed to the Abyss above me, and from it took the name of my Kabal.
As a sign of derence to our Supreme Overlord, the estates of House Ysdrach were gifted to Vect, keeping only the Blinded Eye, and the containment structures and subrealm of its one-time masters, a realm now forever linked to High Commorragh. House Ysdrach was no more, but had been remade as the Kabal of the Radiant Abyss!


So concludes my tale on the beginnings of my Kabal. We of the Radiant Abyss are not so uncivilised as you Low City scum. I have given you my hospitality, my tale, now, it is customary for you to return the favour. It is only polite. We shall begin, I think, of how you, from the Kabal of... What is it you call yourselves again? Ah, thank you! The Kabal of the Obsidian Moon! Nononono, I know the layout of mine own palace, I would think. We will start, I am thinking, with the layout of yours. Every bolthole, every entrance. Where you entered, where you left. No? You are impolite enough to refuse the price of hospitality? Very well. You will find, honoured guest, that just as I am a gracious host, I can be quite, how shall we say? Unforgiving.

Azhdahak. You may begin...

Tiny bit more added, guys. This is taking a lot longer to get out of my head than I thought   

Ooh I like where you're going with the solar cults. The Radiant Abyss makes for an original name too, I think. The pre-history is good. Don't be shy from spilling your thoughts here! We want to read more!

You might find that it takes you a long time to finish and that you rewrite bits later on, but stick to it! I'm really enjoying this so far. I like how it's written and the subject of the Solar Cults. They, too, play a part in my own Kabal's history.

Quote :

We want to read more!

We do indeed!

Little bit more added. Glad you guys are enjoying this  

More added, and thus concludes the first lesson. Feedback is appreciated, and I'm writing a draft of the allies and enemies of the Kabal.

Ahh, my friend! You have been such a good lad! Your tale was so informative! Azhdahak barely had to tough you, but then, she is indeed most skilled. You are good as new now though, yes? Truly, she is skilled beyond compare. I am indeed such a gracious host.
Now! It is time for more information from me, and more from you! Yesterday we had our educations in the Histories, for today... Politics! Who are my friends, who are my enemies. What? No, no, my lad! The Obsidian Moon may have earned my displeasure, but you? You are my guest! As long as you are within my halls, I shall not harm you. Outside though... There is no Guest-Right outside my halls...

Amongst the Dark City

The Coven of the Dragon Ascendant

An old Coven, whose Master, the beautiful Azhdahak, who has taken such good care of you, I am told predates the Birth itself! She... Ah, pardons, Azhdahak, but you are still 'she', correct? You have not changed again? You are so delightfully fluid. She takes the name of her Coven from the Dragon of legend, for of course what is Creation without Destruction?
Some see the Covens as a necessary irritant. There is beauty in what they do, though.

Cult of the Bloodied Thorn

A rare Cult, one of the exceedingly few to count a male amongst their Ynnitach, I am told. A former Hellion, before joining the ranks of the Beastmasters. His coup was ever so sudden, and it appears that Razorwings leave nothing for the Haemonculi to regrow. Despite his success, he has never quite escaped the scandal. I hear the Queen of Knives herself is taking an interest in the "male bride". She won't intervene personally, of course, a duel implies acceptance of his position within her ranks, a bounty implies a threat she is scared to face personally. Instead, whoever so happens to arrange the unfortunate accident will find themselves suddenly favoured by dearest Lilith.
The Cult does keep the masses entertained, however. The Cult does not kill, you see, at least not directly. Rather, they favour a delectably lethal combination of potent, fast-acting paralytic toxins, and aggressively-growning thorned vines as the floor of their arenas. A single scratch ends in agonising death, as barbed thorns engulf their frozen victims. It is this that gives them their full name, the Cult of Screams as Bloodied Thorns Tear Through Flesh. Some few chosen Wyches even carry stasis-locked seedlings with them on their raids, to gift chosen foes with a perfect death.

Gang of the Red Maw

Savages one and all, lacking all pretences of civility. Do you know how they come by their name? They eat the dead, you see, they believe strength lies in the blood. They file their teeth, they scar their flesh, they wear their blood as warpaint, so they can scare the little children as they gnash and shriek and roar as they fly past. They are useless as anything more than hunting hounds, to drive the prey from their hovels. Exiles and rebels from society, they cannot play the Lord, so instead they play the Monster, in the hopes that that will bring meaning to their crude existance.

Among Kin

Harlequins

Overly moralistic fools, believing themselves superior to all others, even ourselves. Do not doubt their abilities, however. You can have no finer allies against the Divine Bitch. Their passion is exquisite.
They also claim their God is still alive and well within the Webway. I cannot vouch for the truth of this rumour, only to say that if you hear laughter without a source while travelling, run, and you may escape unchanged. A lesson some say dearest Malys did not heed.

Craftworlders

Dead Gods, God of the Dead, Ghost Warriors. They are such a morbid people. It makes one wonder, while our cousins obsess over death, and we revel in life, who are truly the Dark Eldar?
They live in such fear of what they are, and what they could be. The Biel-Tani, though, they begin to glimpse the truth. The galaxy is still ours, but the master does not live amongst the slaves.

Exodites

Truly pitiful, ceding their birthright to live as primitives. Their lack of ambition sickens me.  
Do with them as you wish, but they are still Eldar. The Mon-Keigh must know their place, and family is family, no matter how stunted the branch may be...


Mon-Keigh

Humanity

They call themselves an Imperium, but they are no more than cattle playing as kings. Watching their delusion of grandeur crumble is delicious. Truly they are the Mon-Keigh, suitable only to have their lives spent as we wish.

Orks

Crude creatures, almost worthless as slaves unless you only require brute strength. Are you aware that the Ork reproduces through spores? Dearest Azhdahak has managed to weaponise the process, creating a most entertaining venom! Watch, watch!
You! Slave, come here!
There! See how the fungus spreads under the skin from the splinter? I am told the process is most terrifying to the host. Little pain, as such, but the sensations of your flesh rapidly becoming other, until ah! There it goes! The fungus ruptures from within the host!
It almost makes the existance of their species worthwhile...

Tau
Such perfect naivety! Such boundless optimism! It almost makes me weep in ecstasy to open their eyes to the truth.
There is no Greater Good, little children. There is only power, and only we have the strength to take it. If you are not Predator, you are Prey.

Tyranids

The wolf that threatens the flock. Their appetites exceed even that of She Who Thirsts. The herd has begun to fight back, but we cannot afford to let the Swarm consume our galaxy.

Servants of Chaos

Such beings disgust me. To bargain away everything that you are, in the vain hope of power? Power granted while kneeling is no power at all. We are masters, not slaves.

And so concludes our final lesson. I have decided to give you a gift, instead. I, in my generosity, to let you leave my halls, and tell your master what you have seen, what you have heard. I see his spies staring, and the Abyss stares back.
My warriors shall not stop you leaving, but remember, little gutter-scum, there is no Guest Right outside my halls.

You should be running, I would think.

Another bit added in, filling in about the Cult of the Bloodied Thorn, and the Gang of the Red Maw. What do you guys think?

I like these! Some suggestions though if I may;

Why not add to the Red Maw (nice name btw) that they achieved such a level of depravity after being pushed into some horrible subrealm, or perhaps after surviving a cataclysm, where their fortunes wound up with them being forced to choose between self-imposed exile within an abandoned fortress, or a violent and horrific death at the hands of an onslaught of demons?

It would be here that they began to succumb to a growing bloodlust, the more desperate and the more violent turning upon the weak and tearing them apart to feast on their blood. Eventually they would do this not for survival but for strength, and burst through the fortress, virtually indistinguishable from the demons they were now decimating with untold abandon... Or so legend has it.

This isn't necessary and their fluff kicks ass enough on its own but I thought I'd suggest it all the same, usually even the lowliest of DE would have do go through some degree of horrible experience to relinquish their sense of civilisation.

I love the Cult of the Bloodied thorns and like the twist of having a male Succubus. Another suggestion (if I may) would be to make the thorns even more horrific; rather than having them engulf their victim, somewhat like haywire weaponry or shredders, why not have these thorns inflict a paralysing state where the thorns would rapidly grow from beneath the flesh, agonisingly consuming the victim from within?

Actually, I was kinda going for some Dark Eldar that are simply well and truly "fallen". The Red Maw are the Hellions that accept their status, they know they're outcasts and renegades, they know they won't be able to attain the heights of glory that their Kabalite brethren will, so unlike the Baron, they've stopped trying to pretend. Instead, they've chosen to go in the complete opposite direction. They aren't the lords and ladies of Low Commorragh, instead they are the monster in the shadows. They've given themselves a new purpose, instead of pretending to be what they never can be.

Of course, to Archons like Aroshamash, they just seem... childish. Children that were told "no", so now act up. True, they have their uses against the mon-keigh, but to Aroshamash they merely reinforce everything about why they aren't Kabalites.

Love this, I'm all about the narrative to gaming (basically a total fluff bunny) and am always teaking and adding to the history of my own kabal. Really well written imaginative stuff you've done, looking forward to more!