40K - Codex Titanicus.pdf - Codices - hamster52

CODEX TITANICUS ONLINE

CODEX TITANICUS

Even though you called him friend, the Traitor has forsaken you. Show no mercy even if he begs it, for his

soul is tainted and given the opportunity he will betray your trust.

Those of you gathered before me have been chosen to reside within the mighty machines of the Adeptus

Titanicus. Let their will guide you. Become one with them. And as they teach you, so you must teach them.

May their armor protect your body from the heretics blasphemy, just as the litanies protect your soul.

Remember as you enter battle, you are but a part of the whole. You are but one amongst millions.

Remember that your weapons are more than metal; the flame of spiritual fire burns strong in your souls and

adds power to your cause. Smite those that disbelieve, for they have turned from the light and fallen.

Know that the prayers of delivery will protect you from danger, and that you have nothing to fear except

misplaced mercy. Go forth with pride and glory.

-Part of a sermon made by Tech-priest Garal to War Griffons Princeps before the delivery of Yarant III

CODEX TITANICUS ONLINE

CONTENTS

IMPERIUM

Advanced Close Combat

Entering Close Combat

Sequence of Close Combat

Close Combat Options

Using Close Combat Option Cards

Leaving Close Combat

Detailed Damage System

Repair Rolls

Level of Damage

Cumulative Damage

Crew Injuries

Detailed Damage Tables

Epic Battle Damage System

Detachments

Repair Rolls

Volleys

To Hit Rolls

Hits on Vehicles and Infantry

Hits on Titans

Epic Battle Damage Tables

Designing Imperial Titans

Titan Rosters

Hull Data Table

Designing Titan Variants

War Griffons

Advanced Game Rules

Revealing Orders

Random First Player

Plasma Weapons

Crew Skills

War Griffons II

The Campaign Game

Buying Titans

Campaign Scenarios

Downtime

Armored Vehicles

Predator

Vindicator

Tunneling Vehicles

Light Vehicles

Skimmers

Field Artillery

Motorbike

Jet Bike

Land Speeder

Rapier

Tarantula

Mole Mortar

Thudd Gun

Light Vehicle Detachments

Walkers

Dreadnoughts

Robots

Walker Detachments

Landing Pods and Drop Ships

Landing Pods

Making the Drop

The Movement Phase

The Combat Phase and Thereafter

Dropships

Detachments

Imperial Transports

ELDAR

The Phantom Class Eldar Titan

The Order Phase

The Movement Phase

The Repair Phase

The Combat Phase

New Weapons

Damage and Eldar Titans

Using Eldar Titans

Designing Phantom Class Titans

Eldar Vehicles and Walkers

Eldar Infantry

Troop Drops

Standard Detachments

Non-Standard Detachments

Eldar in the Campaign Game

ORKS

Gargants

Gargant Mobs

Designing Gargants

Roster Sheet

Preparing for Battle

Order Phase

Movement Phase

Repair Phase

Combat Phase

Belly Gun

Gargant Damage Tables

Ork Vehicles and Walkers

Ork Infantry

Infantry Stands

Infantry Detachments

Special Rules

Battlewagon Riders

Standard Detachments

Orks in the Campaign Game

REFERENCE SHEETS

CODEX TITANICUS ONLINE

Feeling apprehensive, Marnoc walked towards the unit’s remaining Titans. In the shadow of

the ravaged buildings the giant war-machines were lined up like guardsman on parade.

There was a beaten air around them, which not even the Warp Runners’ centuries of

tradition could counter. The Warlords were shabby and dirty, covered in the fine grey dust

that rose from the plains of Tallarn during the long dry summer.

He looked up and saw several of the

Adeptus Mechanicus standing on a

maintenance tower beside the

battered old Spirit of Victory. They

were doing the final spot welds that

would re-attach its damaged left arm.

knew that if he survived long enough then his symbol would be

etched into the Titan by the Adeptus Mechanicus. First though he

would have to prove himself.

The man who had been painting absailed down the side of the

machine. Marnoc saw the wires of his safety harness pull taught as

he made the hair-raising descent. The painter unclipped himself

and jogged over. He halted in front of the new Princeps and gave

Marnoc the Warp Runner’s clenched fist salute.

One looked down at him as he passed. The blank glass eyes of its

mask seemed to gaze indifferently. He waved jauntily tot he Tech-

priest but he has returned to contemplating the mysteries of the

machine.

“First Moderatus Toal, Princeps, Furtunata Imperiatrix,” he said.

“These are Hazan and Warden. Fist and Plasma respectively."”

Beneath the waiting ranks of Titans the crews slumped atop their

bedrolls and equipment packs. Some were rolling dice, some were

sprawled out asleep. The distant thumping of Mole Mortars caused

sweat to run down Marnoc’s back, but it concerned the crews as

little as the great clouds of flies. They ignored both.

Marnoc returned the salute and introduced himself. He studied his

crew carefully. They were all of a type: gaunt, wasted-looking men

with pale faces and tired eyes. Marnoc guessed that they spent too

much time linked to the Fortunata to get much exercise or sun. He

noticed that they wore black armbands over their patched sleeves.

They were in mourning.

Looking at these shabby, unkempt men with their cold eyes and

hard-bitten faces, Marnoc felt conspicuous and out of place. His

new dress uniform and clean-shaven features marked him as a

newcomer among those who had fought the long losing summer

campaign against the Rebels.

“I understand Princeps Silberman was killed by a rebel sniper. I am

sorry,” said Marnoc.

“Father….Princeps Silberman said that he always wished to die in

battle, sir. We are grieved that he was killed dishonorably.”

He heard someone snigger, and mutter something about boys fresh

in from command school.. Someone made a crack about nobles of

high birth, and how it was a bad sign when a Heavenborn

Princeling was sent to the front. It showed how bad things really

were. Marnoc felt his face flush and he turned to confront the men.

All he saw was carefully bland faces.

Marnoc could see that it went deeper than that. These men were

lost without their leader. It was not surprising. Titan crews were

notoriously close-knit, more so than families. The ties that bound

them were forged in battle and stronger than admantium. Marnoc

thought back to his childhood and adolescence in the Clone

Academy in the Overcity of the Forge World. He remembered the

discipline and suspicion, and the sense of apartness. He realized

that in a way he envied these men.

Marnoc rubbed the circuit pattern caste tattoos on his cheek as he

walked on. Behind he could hear quiet laughter. He stepped aside

into an arched doorway as a full company of Space Marines jogged

by at the double, bolters held close to their armored chests; thin,

fanatic faces for once not covered by their sinister helmets. Of all

those at Castra Septus, only the Adeptus Astartes seemed oblivious

to the possibility of defeat. The image of blank-faced military

precision was somewhat dented when the last one to pass winked

at him.

“What’s the word from up on top, Princeps?” asked Hazan, a

short, humorous looking character with ‘Born To Smash” stenciled

beneath his crew insignia. “We stompin’ out today?”

“Looks like a big revel push right across Zones Green, Blue and

Grey. They’re fighting in Blue right now.”

The new Princeps made his way to the Fortunata Imperiatrix: his

first command. As he approached he could see the Moderati

scrambling to their feet and standing to attention. He looked up:

high on the carapace were the half visible remains of previous

commanders logos etched into the armor. A crewman was painting

on Marnoc’s own family emblem of a silver, robotic fist. Marnoc

Tall, feral Warden whistled, a long descending note.

“Looks bad. They could push us back to the Dust Sea. If we lose

the spaceport we’ll never be relieved, even if the fleet smashed the

Rebel blocka

CODEX TITANICUS ONLINE

“We’ll just have to see that doesn’t happen, won’t we?” said

Marnoc. He had intended it to sound encouraging, but when he

saw the contemptuous looks that the Moderati gave him he wished

he had just kept his mouth shut.

the others begin the Gunner’s Chant as they interfaced with their

weaponry. Targeting icons were superimposed on his field of

vision. He knew that where he could see the head of the Imperial

Eagle, there he could direct the Titans firepower, He wondered

briefly whether the Rebels had replaced the symbol with the Eye of

Horus.

Suddenly the klaxons blared. Marnoc and the Moderati stared at

each other for a moment. Then Toal turned and pulled himself up

the ladder. The others followed him swiftly, leaving Marnoc

standing dazed at the Titan’s foot. He turned and saw that the

crews of the other Titans were boarding as swiftly as possible. Men

vaulted from the carapaces down hatches then slammed them

close. He could already hear the low hum of the reactors warming

up.

“The spirits of your fallen are your honor. Let us be worthy of

them.” He reached out and touched the sacred relics left by the

previous Princeps. First the millenium-old copy of the Liber

Belligerum left by Kask, the firstPrinceps. Next the silver hammer

brought from the Forge World by Talon, the ace of a hundred kills.

With each relic he touched he fell deeper into the command trance.

Finally as he touched the bullet-scored skull of Silberman he felt

the true presence of the Fortunata Imperatrix.

Toal stuck his head back out of the access port. “Time to get

aboard, Princeps. We’ve got to move out. The Rebels are coming.”

He was a tiny thing, dwarfed in the shadow of an entity that had

lived a thousand years, that had seen scores of Princeps come and

go. He was a mote of light drifting before a vast, dark shadow. The

Titan was awake and aware. He sensed its fierce mind begin to

look around for an enemy. He felt it flex its claws at it brought its

weapons up to full power. He was aware that the reactor blazed to

fiery life.

Marnoc lowered himself into the command chair of the Titan. He

plugged the cyberlink cables into his neck sockets then reached

forward, muttering the words of the Litany of Awakening. He

threw the great trip switches that would activate the Titan.

“Your heart is fire. Let it burn with rage for the Emperor’s

enemies,” he said. The lights blazed brighter and over the link he

felt the Titan rouse itself from dormancy, like a great beast

awakening.

Involuntarily the void shields cut in. His heart was full of the lust

to do violence. The ferocity of the Titan infected him.

“Your limbs are mighty. Let them smite the foes of our emperor.”

He ordered the weapons into test mode. The limbs stretched. There

was a great creaking sound as joints strained to move the guns into

place. From the Moderatus’ cabins below, he could hear Toal and

Ghostly memories of a thousand battles flickered through his mind,

augmenting the desire to rend and destroy. He was a particle of

rage being drawn into the fiery heart of the Titan. He was being

absorbed.

CODEX TITANICUS ONLINE

Somewhere in the vast distance, he heard a voice. “Princeps, you

must master it. Otherwise we will run wild. Princeps, muster

yourself.”

They settled into tense silence while the red clouds boiled

overhead to reveal the yellow sky. Marnoc watched couriers on

motor bikes race between positions carrying satchels of orders too

secret to be transmitted by datapulse.

Vaguely he recognized the voice as Toal’s. He was shocked back

to self-awareness. He wanted to reach out and hit the emergency

cut-offs, but he realized he must show the Titan who was master.

He dropped back into the link.

He felt uneasy. The men he was about to fight had once been loyal

Imperial soldiers: Brother Marines and Order Members.

He wondered what had caused them to betray the Emperor, why

had they become traitors? He realized that he might soon be dead,

that he might never know. He found that thought almost as

disturbing as the prospect of death.

He concentrated his mind as he had been taught and ordered the

Titan to power down the weapons. He had been trained to do this,

but the teaching machines had not prepared him for the strength of

a Battle Titan. He had to focus every fiber of his being, every spark

of what he was, as he strove for sovereignty over the Fortunata.

Sweat ran down his brow, his teeth ground against each other. He

felt as if he could never win the unequal struggle.

More squads of Space Wolves were moved up, positioning

Tarantula las-cannons in the cover of the old houses. Landspeeder

scouts raced towards the horizon.

For what seemed like eons he was locked in a battle of wills with

the Titan. He strove to remain firm, to resist the urge to give up

and let it have its way. Eventually he sensed the weapons power

down, but he knew the Titan was not giving up, merely calling a

temporary truce. This was the first encounter, a gauging of

strengths.

Marnot jacked the Titan’ sensors up to maximum, trying to ignore

the fear that churned in his gut as he probed for some sign of the

enemy. The horizon remained empty even to the far-seeing eyes of

the Fortunata.

“Come on,” he heard Toal muttering. Then suddenly the enemy

was there. They had come over the curve of the planet, thousands

of small blips showed in the Sensorium of the Titan.

When he opened his eyes he was surprised to see that only a few

seconds had passed. The Marines were still forming up in squads

and clambering aboard their Rhinos. A flight of jet bikes had just

taken off and was arcing skyward towards the north. Over the

shattered roof of a tumbled-down building he saw a line of

Predators roar off into the distance.

“By the Emperor,” he heard Warden mutter. “There are dozens of

them.”

It took a moment to register that he was talking about enemy

Titans. Marnoc looked up and saw endless lines of them rise over

the horizon.

A Warhound stalked forward, weapons raised in the attack

position. The Spirit Of Imperial Victory swung out to follow it,

banners fluttering. Marnoc ordered the Fortunata to take its place

in the line. Painfully, slowly the Titan obeyed.

“Fire at will,” Marnoc said. The Traitors advanced confidently on

the doomed position.

The Princeps patched himself into the comnet, listening for orders.

Kowley, the Force Leader, called out lists of names. The Titans

responded with name and status. Marnoc was pleased to be able to

report that the Fortunata was active when his turn came.

Under a sky the color of blood the Imperial force moved to

intercept the enemy. To the right, near the Bromium Refinery were

the emplacements. As Marnoc watched, a group of Rapiers took up

position within the reinforced earthworks. Three detachments of

Land Raiders went hull down on the brow of a hill. From them,

squads of Space Wolves disembarked.

They were taking a defensive position on the outskirts of

Rogsburg. Several thousand Marines, a dozen Titans and scores of

support weapons. It looked impressive as the Marines and

Dreadnoughts fanned out through the remnants of buildings,

landspeeders whizzing overhead like hornets.

Marnoc ordered the Titan to move forward in support of the

Marines. To his right was Dorn’s Warhound, to his left and rear

was the Spirit. He noticed that the Fortunata had a way of moving

its right weapon mount in a small arc as it moved. It was a habit he

knew he would have to break, but at the moment he didn’t feel

strong enough.

“Perimeter secured,” he heard the Marine Commander report over

the comnet. Marnoc ordered the Titan to stop. It did so reluctantly.

“Rebels’ll be here soon,” said Hazan.

“Bring them on,” said Warden. “We’ve a score to settle with them

for Father Silberman.”

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