Child of Man (40K) +15: Harlequinade

[LadyTevar]

If it goes pear-shaped, it'll be for the Guardsmen. This kind of activity will certainly bring out the Eldar.

[Elheru Aran]

You were saying?

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Tanith sprinted through the forest, Petr in the crook of her arm, her other hand holding her mother’s. Panting, Mari tried to match her daughter’s pace, stumbling through the trees. Behind them they could hear the clatter of her father’s feet as well as the other guy; she knew instinctively they didn’t have long before they would have to stop for her family to take breath. She didn’t need it though, and she worried that the pursuing soldiers might catch up…

She looked about, and spotted the trail to the carved boulders. Pointing down that way, she called to her mother, “Let’s go! There’s a good place to hide there…”

Mari held up her hand and panted out, “Give—me a—minute, Tanny… I got—got to breathe…”

Behind them, her father, holding his lasgun, ran out of the trees and drew to a halt, panting, face red from effort; he leaned against a tree and sucked in breath. The former anti-xenos agent spoke to the eldar girl, “Do you know who they are?”

“…No? They just attacked us out of the blue…”

He nodded, panting slightly, and responded, “They’re Inquisition. Ordo Xenos, like I used to be. They must’ve picked up on you and your father. You had better have a very good place to escape to, Tanith…”

She nodded grimly and took her mother’s hand, and they began running again as the sound of booted feet began filtering through the trees to them…

Darkness fell as they approached the boulders; by the starlight she found her way. Secreting her family in the rock hollow, she looked about, sharp eyes peering through the darkness. Further down, in areas she hadn’t explored yet, in what appeared to have once been an ancient building of some sort (for there were carved columns fallen and broken all over, old stone blocks resting on each other, massively eroded carvings here and there), she heard a scrape. Eyebrow furrowing, she began creeping down the boulder silently; Tomas called out, “Where are you going?”

She hissed back, “Shhh! I heard something below. Going to check it out. Stay? If I don’t come back, just stay…”

“Tanith!” he whispered urgently back, and was stepping out, when the ordos man held out his hand and blocked Kalden’s way. He shook his head, and Tomas silently sat back down, eyes full of worry.

His daughter, meanwhile, scaled the short cliff below the boulder nimbly; dropping the last few feet, she landed noiselessly and stood quietly. Looking about, she flinched as a voice sounded—but not in her ears…

Well met, my Lady.

She stared around, eyes furiously striving to penetrate the darkness; keeping close to the fallen blocks and columns, she silently stalked towards the opposite side of the hollow. She couldn’t tell where it was coming from… yet it continued.

For years, my Lady, my Princess, ye have been lost, but now ye art found. And thy people shall rejoice upon thy return, as I do with all my heart.

Irritated, she hissed, “Shut up…” to the phantom voice, pulling out her knife.

O Asuryan, O Isha, Thy blessed child has returned to us, and for this we thank Thee!

The darkness suffocated her eyes; reluctantly she emerged into the starlight. All about her, broken blocks and columns; a wall half stood nearby, by a heavily eroded statue. They shone dimly in the night.

Lady Taernaeth ap Matholyk aes Anath, O Heiress of Matholyk son of Eldanesh’s Line, blessed daughter of Anath Farseer, held by the mon-keigh, I hail thy return.

She snarled in frustration, leaping behind a broken statue and glaring through the darkness. The voice would not stop!

Hail, Taernaeth, my Lady, whom I swore to serve and protect with my life.

Rounding a corner formed by cyclopean blocks, she stopped cold in her tracks, eyes narrowing.

Ever thy faithful servant, I am Rhaedgar, Autarch, Wraith-Lord, and my life is thine.

A massive curved power-sword lay on the ground before her. Upon its blade a mighty hand rested, formed of curved and shaped bone. Her eye followed the arm, past what appeared to be an oversize shuriken pistol fastened to its forearm, up to shoulder, and massive, featureless head, bowed in reverence.

The figure straightened up, blocking out stars, fully twice her height; she looked, and it was but upon a knee. It rested its hand upon its knee, and though she could not perceive any eyes, she knew it was looking full upon her. The voice sounded in her head again, Come with me, my Lady, for ye are free now. Eldar ye were born, and eldar ye shall be again.

Actinic light flared and glowing runes swirled through the air, blinding her; she lifted her hand, and the light faded away, leaving a bent figure, female, leaning heavily upon an ornate staff, the thick runes upon her raiment apparently weighing her down. A heavy helmet, featureless aside from the runes covering it, stared blankly at her. With a cracked voice, the female spoke, <Daughter. Come with us, and pay no heed to the mon-keigh. They matter no longer.>

She opened her mouth to object, and the female held up her hand.

An electric blue flash illuminated the stones for a moment; with a pop of displaced air and a whispered trill of song filtering through the air, they were gone.

[Vehrec]

*looks up* Oh bugger. This is NOT going to go well. Yeah, this is definately things going all pear shaped. No, this is one of those exotic 11 dimensional shapes that you get in String Theory. This is a good old fashioned Charlie Foxtrot, Mike Foxtrots!

[Ford Prefect]

'Ah shit'?

[LadyTevar]

Mommy is going to get SUCH an earful.

And since the Wraithlord's pledged himself to Tanith, he'll have to follow her when she goes back for them.

[Vehrec]

Mommy is going to get SUCH an earful.

And since the Wraithlord's pledged himself to Tanith, he'll have to follow her when she goes back for them.

*cues up track three of the Hairspray Soundtrack*
Stop! Stop telling me what to do.
Don't! Don't treat me like a child of two.
No! I know that you want what's best.
Please! But Mother please, Give it a rest!

[Vanas]

[HSRTG]

*snip*

I get the feeling that it'd be less "waaa", than

<"WTF XENOS! TAKE ME BACK THIS INSTANT"

*attempts to knife Farseer*

*fails miserably due to, well, seer-ness*>

[Elheru Aran]

*snip*

I get the feeling that it'd be less "waaa", than

<"WTF XENOS! TAKE ME BACK THIS INSTANT"

*attempts to knife Farseer*

*fails miserably due to, well, seer-ness*>

Why, whatever do you mean...

++++++++++++++++++++++++

My lady Taernaeth! Restrain thyself! Rhaedgar grabbed her by the shoulders as she launched herself at the farseer, eyes glittering blackly, an angry screech bursting from her throat. She writhed in the Wraithlord’s firm grasp, and suddenly her eyes flashed. Holding out her knife she pointed it at the female eldar, and with a spat syllable lightning flashed outward from the blade.

It shattered away as the farseer held up her hand leisurely; with a gesture, the eldar bound Tanith’s arms to her sides, her legs together, and she drifted into the air, muscles writhing against the psychic bonds. Tanith spat a curse at the eldar; unperturbed, she turned and strode away, Tanith hovering gently behind. The Wraithlord followed silently, sheathing his massive sword at his side.

They emerged from the shrine into a massive cavern, illuminated by the glow of a million crystals lining the walls and ceiling; beneath them spread an eldar town, wraithbone towers arching gracefully upward, domes silently spreading over low buildings. Fountains bubbled quietly at the intersections, and at the edges, larger open buildings sheltered what appeared to be the skeletons of vehicles. Tanith squinted as she was led down the stairs, bringing her eyes into focus over that distance, and they seemed to be growing the very skin over the wraithbone skeleton…

<Taernaeth, pay attention,> the farseer snapped irritably. She turned her eyes back to the female, glowering; the eldar gestured quietly before the entrance to the building they stood before, and the door silently opened with a half-heard trill of alien song. Tanith was stood unceremoniously against a wall, though not uncomfortably, as the chamber’s floor was covered with thick, warm rugs, pillows lining the walls along with low benches of exotic woods. As Rhaedgar carefully knelt and slid his massive head through the doorway, white-robed, hooded eldar females arrived, and gently divested the Farseer of her heavy ceremonial robes. Her back remained towards Tanith at all times; strive as she might, she could not peer around to see the farseer’s face. Likewise, all the eldar handmaidens remained hooded, hiding their faces from her.

Slowly at last, two of the women reached up and gently lifted off the heavy, rune-encrusted helmet; long gray hair spilled from within, damp with perspiration. The handmaidens gently dried it with flawless white cloths, and then laid a black silken cloak upon her shoulders, lifting a hood up to cover her head. With a gesture of her hands, they melted into the shadows, bowing low.

Though she still did not hear it, Rhaedgar spoke from where he knelt in the doorway, Lady Anath. Must my lady Taernaeth remain bound thus?

<Rhaedgar, she has lived with the mon-keigh for more than twenty of their years. She must be cleansed of their unclean influence before she shall view the pure visages of the kindred,> the female growled in her cracked voice. Tanith realized she understood them, even though they weren’t speaking Low Gothic—they were speaking eldar. And she hadn’t heard a word of it all her life.

Nevertheless, Rhaedgar persisted, it is an injustice. She will not fight in a hopeless situation; she cannot possibly escape. Without a soulstone, if she dies…

<Then she dies,> Anath murmured implacably. Tanith muttered angrily under her breath and the Wraithlord’s blank visage turned to face her. She stared back defiantly, and he quietly commented, Thee art surrounded by a score upon a score of eldar, full half of them mighty Aspect Warriors. All the power ye do have is being able to destroy mere things; thee art no match for our warlocks and seers, no matter how much raw power thee hast. Striving to escape, milady Taernaeth, is not recommended.

She ground out angrily, “Don’t call me that! My name is Tanith! And you can do what you may, I’m not going to stay here a moment longer than I have to!”

Anath barked out a harsh laugh; she turned to face Tanith and murmured from underneath the concealing hood, <Such pride. You are indeed a daughter of Matholyk, a child of great Asuryan.>

With a gesture Tanith’s bonds were freed; she dropped into a combat-ready crouch, and then flinched away, leaping aside and rolling nimbly to her feet as the dagger flew from her hand to Anath’s. The farseer tilted her head, a golden glitter coming from underneath her hood, and whispered in her cracked voice, <Rhaedgar? Summon the seers. It is time she was cleansed before she may become one of our kindred again.>

The Wraithlord bowed and brought up its hand to rest upon its sculpted bone breast, then carefully backed its head out of the doorway and stood, striding down the street. She turned to Tanith, tilted her head and held up the dagger. Scorn filtering through her voice, she uttered, <A weapon of the mon-keigh, I see. You will find ours much better.> She brought up her other hand, a jointed wraithbone construct, and wrapped it around the blade. With a loud crack, she snapped it; opening the artificial hand, shards of the blade fell to the floor.

Anath whispered, <Until you are cleansed, you are no better than a pointy-eared mon-keigh. Claim your name as a daughter of the eldar, Taernaeth. Embrace your true birth, and surrender that false heritage the mon-keigh have inculcated you with. Come into your position, your birthright as a seer of the eldar, to become Farseer upon the day my soul enters the infinity circuits.>
Tanith stared at the female, her muscles still tense and ready to spring. She muttered, knowing it was futile, “You won’t be able to convert me, witch…”

Anath chuckled darkly, as the black-robed, helmeted seers began entering, their silent visages peering at her sharply. Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, she allowed the handmaidens to disrobe her and wrap her in light, silken white robes; and she was then led down an inner flight of steps into an underground chamber.

A pool of water glittered beneath, and a pallet hovered gently above it; steam arose lightly from the water’s surface. One of the seers gestured, and the pallet floated over to them; he pointed at Tanith, and indicated the pallet. Casting a glower upon him, she laid down upon it. As it floated back to above the water, the eldar began taking positions around the water, at the edges of the catacomb.

Underneath her, the water began to glow white; suddenly a mighty light blasted up from underneath, and her back arched…

The gods stood proud before her. Asuryan, the greatest of them all, long dead. Isha, the Mother. Vaul, forging his weapons for the war against the Yngir. And Kaela Mensha Khaine, the Bloody-Handed God, He whom slew Mother Isha and Kurnous and bound Vaul to his own anvil.

The Eldar people struck out from their very birth, and ruled over the galaxy. The stars were theirs; yet they sowed the wind, and the whirlwind was their harvest. They fell, the world-ships of the Craftworlds their only survivors. And from their fall was born She who Thirsts, the nemesis of the eldar, whom the humans know as Slaanesh, the Dark Prince. And even mighty Khaine was struck down, his only remains being fragments of his self secreted in the Craftworlds. Only the Laughing God lived yet.

And from the Craftworlds, the Exodites went forth; and some of them, from Ulthanash-Shelwè, built beautiful Khalembrasil.

Upon the floating pallet, her back arched in silent pain as needles lanced upward from the frame underneath the pads; her eyes rolled back into her head as the vision changed…

Ancient, millennia-old forests waved gently in the ethereal wisp of wind that rustled through their delicate branches, formed over thousands of years by the inhumanly patient treesingers. Their slim, glossy leaves trembled at the resounding impact of enormous footfalls nearby. For a moment, all stilled, alien bird-song twittered through the air. The glades of the eldar stood proud, as they had for the past ten thousand years.

And then the mighty impact of the Warhound Titan’s foot shattered them, breaking and scattering the wood, splinters flying and flaking off its powerful void-shields. The graceful towers of Khalembrasil stood proud in the distance.

The Titan’s mighty battle-horns bellowed out a litany of hatred, of the holy duty of Mankind to eradicate the xenos. About its feet, Chimera armoured personnel carriers darted forth in a rough line, dust clouds rising in their wake. Leman Russ tanks led the charge, a mighty Baneblade in the fore.

They met a withering hail of fire from shuriken rifles and catapults; but the monomolecular disks chattered uselessly against the stout forgeworld-crafted armour. Heavier weapons were brought to bear; Vyper jetbikes and Falcon grav-tanks fired at the line of advancing tanks. The Titan’s battle-horns screeched, and its plasma cannon belched forth a ball of coruscating blue flame that detonated deep within the eldar lines, flinging wraithbone-armoured bodies high into the air.

The eldar and mon-keigh lines met with a mighty clangor; the Chimeras vomited forth their load of red-coated Praetorian Guardsmen, as the dim silhouette of Valkyrie transports appeared above the horizon. Within the city, ivory-white Thunderhawks snarled downward from the battle cruiser of the Adeptus Astartes Praetorians, landing to disgorge their cargo of battle-brothers or hovering in midair as assault Marines leaped out, darting to the attack with jetpacks.

The mon-keigh wrought devastation, even as the valiant warriors of the Howling Banshee, Dire Avenger, Dark Reaper, Warp Spider and Fire Dragon Aspects fought alongside the plain-armoured Guardians of the city. Eldar jetbikes screeched between the tall buildings, pursuing or being pursued by Imperial fighters or Astartes speeders.

The Warhound Titan blasted its way through the city, as its two brothers came in at the flanks; its Vulcan mega-bolter shattered a tower in its way. It pivoted at the waist to survey the area—and found itself staring into the distort cannon of a mighty eldar Cobra tank.

With a mighty flare of unearthly colours, the distort cannon fired; the very air about the Titan rippled, and tore asunder. The battle all about the city halted for a moment as all faces turned towards the tear in the very fabric of reality that asserted itself; and with a last wail of its battle-horns, metal tore like paper, weapons exploded, and the void-shields shattered, as the Titan was slowly ripped apart and sucked into the Empyrean.

The tear in reality closed with a disturbing sucking noise, and battle reasserted itself. The eldar were driven back; despairing, they began evacuating, the gates through the Webway hissing as slim figures darted through, the warriors striving to maintain order.

Scenes flashed before Tanith’s eyes too fast to follow; Rhaedgar Autarch commanding his warriors at the front lines, Farseer Anath and the seer council wreaking massive psychic assaults, the last stand of the valiant Dark Reaper Aspect against a Baneblade tank. A human psyker—she recognized him! Leading a squad of black-armoured Space Marines against the eldar, it was he whom she called Blue because of his eyes! But what was he doing…

He gestures, and laughs as a robed woman desperately trying to save her child is torn apart by invisible hands. A bone-armoured guardian darts from the shadows, screaming in anger and grief; before the Marines can twitch, he is struck aside and literally splattered against a wall. They turn a corner, and there is a Webway gate before them, a line of civilians turning to face them.

The Marines—Tanith supposed they were Deathwatch, the Ordo Xenos’ elite corps of Marines from the Chapters of the Adeptus Astartes—leveled their bolters and opened fire. The xenos man—Blue—lifted his hand and eldar simply begin exploding.

More scenes flash before her eyes—human Guardsmen massacring eldar, the Adeptus Astartes Praetorians roaring as their chainswords slay xenos, psykers and Inquisitors capturing specimens or simply assisting in the cleansing.

Khalembrasil fades away, and lays devastated before her eyes.

She opened her dark eyes; tears flowed down her cheeks. Sitting up on the pallet as the light from beneath in the water darkens, she reached up to her breast and tore her robes off; naked, she rolled off the pallet and splashed into the water.

Gracefully, her slim figure cut through the warm spring water and emerged at the edge of the pool; stepping out, she held out her arms, and silently the handmaidens robed her anew. One of the seers murmured, as Anath stood upon the steps watching silently, “Be born anew, Taernaeth ap Matholyk aes Anath. Be one with the kindreds of the eldar once again. Embrace thy destiny, daughter of Anath!”

She turned, and solid black eyes looked sharply at him. Taernaeth spoke, “Seer, do not insult me by stating what I am doing already. The mon-keigh have failed, and I have returned to the Eldar. Let the younger races fear us again!”

[LadyTevar]

Ouch. Not good not good at all.

[Lindar]

...

and here they spent all that time keeping her safe...

[Ford Prefect]

Stupid Eldar.

[Vehrec]

. . . What is it with this obsession with being feared? It's like the Eldar want to get beaten up by everyone they meet. And unless I missed my guess, they used some kind of drug there in that brainwashing. This might make things worse when it all comes out. If they come out. . .
That's just a terrible thing to do to a person. Any person. Even a Xenos doesn't deserve that.

[Elheru Aran]

Ayep. Any speculation on what's coming, hmm?

[Enigma]

Ayep. Any speculation on what's coming, hmm?

Confrontation between Tanith and Blue??

[Academia Nut]

Speculation? Ooooh, I'm good at wild, unfounded speculation!

Well, one thing to note is that the whole replay of what happened was decidedly from the Eldar point of view and ignores any preludes as to why the Imperium was there in the first place. While they don't exactly need a reason to annihilate a world covered in xenos scum, any bets on the invasion being retaliation for various activities the Eldar were up to, perhaps even orchestrated by mommy dearest, that really pissed off the Imperials because they were losing citizens left and right?

Moreso than that, sure the Imperium are a bunch of dicks, but the vision failed to show the fact that there was one decent human in the bunch who decided to pick up a baby instead of just shoot it like he was ordered to do. Somehow I feel that our Farseer is going to fail to predict that family is more than just blood.

Oh, and I second that there will be some sort of reckoning between Tanith and Blue, but that we're going to here Blue's side of the story before he dies, which will probably just piss off Tanith more than she already is, but whether or not her anger is directed at humanity or her relatives has yet to be seen.

And just because its completely out there, unlikely to happen, but hilarious because it will cause heads to explode on all sides of the conflict, I present these words:

Imperial Saint Tanith

Likely? No. Funny as hell image of Eldar and Inquisitor alike screaming in pain trying to reconcile the two mutually exclusive concepts of xenos and Chosen of the Emperor? Yes.

[HSRTG]

Did that chair mess with her brain chemistry, besides feeding in visions? I was expecting her to cheer the heroic Imperial slaughterers forward. Or did her parents not sufficiently educate her about the trickery and lies of the xeno?

[Vanas]

Considering this is from the Eldar PoV...


Thoughts: Deathwatch party at the Farseer's place! BYOB. Bless Thine Own Bolter.

[Vehrec]

Thoughts: Deathwatch party at the Farseer's place! BYOB. Bless Thine Own Bolter.

Surely I shall be there! Do Heavy Bolters count? Should I 'Pimp My Ride?' Or is it come as you are?

[HSRTG]

Surely I shall be there! Do Heavy Bolters count? Should I 'Pimp My Ride?' Or is it come as you are?

1)Yes.
2) As long as this "Pimping" is in the form of more Emperor blessed heavy weapons.
3) What do you think?

[Vanas]

We also accept twin bolt-pistols. Pimping in the form of additional oath papers, litanies or general emperor-praising, xenos-hating graffiti are acceptable.

[Vehrec]

*'Borrows' some Litanies from the Sisters of Battle, sticks them everywhere. Gets a pair of fuzzy dice for the cockpit. 'Borrows' two bolt pistols and holds them sideways.* I think I'm ready.

[Elheru Aran]

Things thicken!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Previously; the night of Taernaeth’s return to the eldar

Meirax looked contemptuously over the few people that Sergeant Buchar had collected in the forest. An older man, a woman of similar age, and a small boy. None of them eldar. He turned to Buchar and, gesturing at them, sarcastically commented “Think any of them are xenos, huh?”

The Cadian’s spine stiffened; Snowman walked up behind him, blowing out a cloud of smoke from his weed-joint. The sniper calmly commented to the fuming interrogator, “Eldar can teleport, you know. I’m guessing that’s what the girl did. Bring in a psyker?”

The interrogator cast a cold stare upon the red-haired Valhallan, and testily responded, “A witch to bring down yet another witch? As ironic and tempting as it is, I think not. You do remember the last one that worked for our master—“

A commotion in the forest drew their attention, and as he swept about indignantly, a squad of Buchar’s men came out, prodding the mystery man before them with their lasrifles. Meirax’s eyes swept over him, and he stared. They locked eyes, and with mutual ejaculations of profanity came recognition. The interrogator’s hand swept up, pointing directly at him, as he shouted “Guardsmen! Code epsilon! He’s a psyker!”

A moment of electricity ran through the air; and then the black-armoured guardsmen leaped backward and leveled their lasrifles at his head; Buchar, a hellgun at the ready, snapped out “Get down on the ground! Hands on your head!”

He knelt, and slowly, coldly commented as he brought his hands up behind his head, “Shaulsson, you can call off your hounds. I’m not going to touch any of you. I swore off that a decade ago…”

Meirax sneered, but kept watching him warily, and responded derisively, “I gave that name up years ago, Dauvit Barjudahissen. It’s Meirax now.”

“How appropriate. Name yourself after where you stabbed another in the back, why don’t you?”

The interrogator turned white, and snarled, “I had reason to, heretic. You turned against your master and your brothers!”

“Because I found out what was going on, Jonath. I tried to tell you…”

“Hands back on your head!” warned Buchar, as another Guardsman came sprinting up from the Thunderhawk with a heavy metal collar in his hands.

In the forest

Slim booted feet slipped through the bushes with nary a sound. Long-barrelled rifles were carefully aimed, dark inhuman eyes staring down their barrels. A flickering of hands and fingers ran down the line of almost invisible figures; as the house before them began burning, their targets stood silhouetted…

The farm

Tomas Kalden had built that farmhouse with Mari’s help over the better part of three months. It’d served them well for nigh on seventeen years. They had brought up a daughter and now a son in there. But with the flick of an igniter, Gale set it aflame, and as he stepped out and off the broad porch, flames spat out of the roof.

Meirax lifted his lip scornfully as he turned away from Barjudahissen, and witheringly commented, “For all your powers, for all the xenos-love you displayed… you can’t stop the Inquisition, Dauvit. You will be taken back to Lord Grund, charged, and executed. Thus is the fate of any psyker witch that turns his back upon an Imperium that is kind enough to sanction his witchcraft!”

He flinched as a round barked past his ear; blinking, the interrogator realized they were being fired upon. Opening his mouth to shout, his breath rushed out of him instead when Guardsman Kibaoth’s shoulder rammed into him, bearing him down to the ground; rounds snapped through the air, the merciless eldar long-rifles doing their deadly work.

But ineffectually, as the Cadians, trained professionals all, hastily reformed and took cover where they could find it; Buchar hollered at them, and a squad peeled off and herded the prisoners into the Thunderhawk. Vehrec in the cockpit hollered angrily as eldar bullets sparked off his thick glass windshield; with a twist of the controls, the twin-linked heavy bolters on the sponsons chattered angrily, sending a hail of rocket-propelled explosive rounds to shred the foliage surrounding the farm. As he lifted slightly off the ground and twisted the Thunderhawk around to expose the rear hatch to the Guardsmen still firing back, Snowman stuck the barrel of his tau railgun through the open hatch.

Closing his off eye, the sniper concentrated upon the blacksun filter in the tau gun’s sight; with care, he perceived the moving forms in the forest. Eldar have a slightly lower body temperature than humans, and with the heavy camouflage worn by these rangers that was brought down—but not enough to deceive a blacksun filter. His finger tightened upon the railgun’s trigger, and with a flare of capacitator rails ablating in an enormous muzzle blast, the tungsten dart literally blazed its way through the air in an instant.

The shock wave of the round’s passage through the air shook the forest and tore foliage up; and it struck a tree, which shattered explosively, sounding as though it’d been loaded full with fyceline. Buchar shouted from inside the Thunderhawk, “Snowman! Thought you never missed!”

The sniper grinned at him as he lifted the railgun’s muzzle, allowing the rear hatch to close, and responded, “I didn’t. One round from this thing would have just punched through one of the pointy-ears. Hitting a tree makes a big bang—and a lot of wood splinters flying through those trees…”

The Cadian’s eye lifted, and he had to confess being impressed with the sniper’s creativity.

In the forest, Dhaembras the seer cursed as he pulled a large shard of wood out of his arm. The Thunderhawk roared away in the distance; and as he called out, “Report, all ye who can speak! What kind of mon-keigh weapon was that?” he knew less than had set out originally would respond…

[Vehrec]

It's like the Tau say(in the Firewarrior's guide to the Galaxy), the Eldar put all their trust in stealth, speed and skill. They could go a lot further if they just appreciated the power of Brute Force. It's one of their major failings as a race, they just assume that they are the best at everything and keep slogging along with their admitable advanced weapons and techniques. That doesn't keep them from suffering casualties.

[HSRTG]

They could go a lot further if they just appreciated the power of Brute Force.

It's like they say, if brute force isn't working, you aren't using enough of it .