Seven Victories (WH40k)

[Vehrec]

In celebration of my 7th victory over the Dark Crusade campaign, I have decided to write seven very short stories each set in the aftermath of one of those faction stronghold levels. I'll be writing these in the reverse order that I finished them, so it will be Eldar first, Necrons last. No two will be the same mission. Some will be shorter than others, almost drabble length. I'll be the first to admit that they might have inaccuracies, but its mine and I'm still proud of it. In the meantime, enjoy what I lay out before you today!


Victory 1: Thur'Abis plateau.

At the edge of the ancient basalt block that rose from the middle of the continent, a narrow defile was filled with boulders and pools of water, leaking from underground sources into the shade of the giant crack. One who looked down into the crevasse might, for a brief instant before his head was split open by a Eldar Longrifle see a Harlequin dancing from boulder to boulder, cup in left hand and a bottle in the right. Humming a tune that was just one movement in the grand cycle of the struggle against the Yngir, she skipped, somersaulted, and otherwise moved in ways impossible for a human across the rocky and steep slope. If you had a very good eye, you might even notice the lack of a flip belt adorning this particular Harlequin. As she moved she spilled not drop from her open bottle, sliding over the top of a Falcon parked in the shadow of a melted hulk of black metal before rebounding from one last rock to land softly beside a small pool.

Farseer Taldeer of Ulthwe was here, peering into the water. She had eschewed her armor for the time being, choosing instead to don robes for her meditations. She did not look up from the water cupped in her hands when the Harlequin touched the ground, but instead kept her focus glued on the liquid cupped in her palms and her reflection there. Her warlocks clustered around her like chicks around a hen, but they gave way for the tiny harlequin. Most of them bowed as they did so, but a few of them were unable to unbend from their guard enough to even do that. They feared that the enemy yet might stir from the anthill that they had so recently vacated. The Harlequin had no such fear. She was here to celebrate.

“Well met child of Isha. By your acts this day, the Yngir will fear us once again. Will you join me in the celebrations with this small death?” Typical metaphor and legend laden speech, that wouldn't mean a thing to a human. Taldeer however grasped it's meaning without thought, and without turning responded.

“Why should I celebrate? We have work yet undone, and the vision has not changed. From this planet shall emerge the doom of many of our kin, great and terrible. Give me one reason why I should drink with you, when so many souls have passed on this day.” several of the soulstones Taldeer wore on her armor pulsed with these words, signaling their dissent or concurrence.

The nameless Harlequin pouted. “You are as dour as Khaine, Farseer. Are you certain that your name is not Mugen Ra? All this talk of your vision and work is tiresome.” her features shifted into a wide predatory grin. “We are victorious Farseer. And we will be victorious again and again. The Mon-Keigh can no more stop us than they can stop the wind from blowing where it will.”

Taldeer laughed lightly, bitterly and let the water fall from her hands as she turned to face her companion. “Do not count on that Harlequin. They may not be able to catch the wind, but swift and agile will not win all our victories here. I fear that we must be as the ocean instead of the wind. And you still have not given me a reason”

“As you say Farseer. Your reason, at your request.” The Harlequin sat, and poured a clear liquor from the bottle. “It is a simple one, like most good reasons.” She offered the cup, half full of the slightly fruity smelling beverage as she spoke plainly. “We are alive Farseer. Not one day ago we fled before the distort bomb you yourself laid in that horrid tomb, and we are alive to drink to the memory of those who died. And before you use them as an excuse not to drink, remember that they died so that we could walk under the sky again.”

Taldeer stared at the cup for a long moment, then took it in her hands and raised it to her lips. “For the living.”

It was sweet.

[Ford Prefect]

There was a little consistency error (in that Taldeer started without armour, then was wearing it), but other than that, it was quite nice.

[Vehrec]

*headdesk* Yeah, I missed that. Looking back now, there are several editing errors. I should have used word to run a quick grammer check instead of just assuming that me and OpenOffice would catch all those. Ah well, live and learn.

In other news, I have finished the second battle!
Gorgutz is one of my favorite characters in Dawn of War. Hopefully, someday there will be an actual Gorgutz figure, and he will grace tables of Ork players all over the world. For now however, I will make do with this depiction of him overrunning the Eldar positions in Tyrea. This one is set mere seconds after the ending cinematic for the Ork Victory. Despite severe temptation, the ork speach will not be in Green.

Victory 2: Tyrea

“Out of da way ya grot herders! Get out of mah way!” Warlord Gorgutz 'ead 'unter bashed two of his boyz heads together and shoved on through the crowd of orks. His cybork implants were cold from the mountain peak's freezing air, and a source of constant pain. He ignored it however, pressing forward through the press of Orks, stomping on the shortest ones, and shoving aside any that were too big to stomp. A few of his Nobz and Skarboyz who had been with him since Lorn V pulled other orks out of his way, and adminstered beatings for getting in his way. He kept pushing up the slope, staring at the top.

There, in a circle of fallen boyz and nobz stands the last survivor of this fortress. Farseer Taldeer has fought long and hard, and still she stood. Eldar agility and her warp powers were all that was left to her. Her right arm had been broken, and she now clutched her spear in her left. However, at least fifty boyz and ten nobz had fallen, and now covered the ground in a great circle about her. Gleefully, a bunch of Flash Gitz raised their shootas . . .

Gorgutz seized the nearest git, and pulled him up by his Shoota. His kustom Mega-powa claw held the gun without damage, but his other arm shoved a shoota of his own under the git's chin. “You wuzn't gonna shot da fah-seah, wuz ya? Cuz if you wuz, I'd 'ave to bust ya skull!” The Git screamed and shook his head. “Nah way boss! I'd nevah do dat! Don't bust me skull!”

Gorgutz grunted and tossed the Git aside. “Ya ain't worth it. Naw, get out of me sight ya squig.” Gorgutz doesn't maintain control by diplomacy or loyalty. He promises the best fights, delivers and in between fights clubs heads so as to make the orks listen to him. He's got no silver tongue, no visions from Mork and Gork, but he's good at bashing heads. And he's gonna remind the boyz just how good at bashing heads he is right now, by bashing the head of Taldeer and putting it on his pole.

“'Ey Eldarh! Ovah 'ere!” He waves his arm at her in a manner that isn't a threat, and is therefore probably intended to get her attention. She's watching him anyways, but now all the boyz know he's here, so they are watching him now instead of her. “'Ows about us finish diz, youz and me?” The boyz by now have noticed that like Taldeer, their Boss isn't in the best of shape. One of the 'fingers' of his Mega Powa Claw has a rather nasty notch in it, his face is full of shuriken wounds that still leak blood, and his armor is covered in black stuff. Black stuff that is the result of a near miss by a Fire Prism.

Taldeer stared at him, and then spoke slowly, deliberately. “With any other foe, I would attempt to dissuade you. But you are worse than the Mon-keigh and I do not need to walk the path of the Seer in order to see that which you desire.” She stared a moment longer, and then spoke again. “You have grown since last our paths crossed.” Gorgutz laughed at that. “'Course I grown! I gotz me some real nice muscle now 'cause I ain't done nothing but fight since!”

“Then I hope you enjoy this last fight of yours Ork.” With a single fluid motion, Taldeer threw the Singing spear right at Gorgutz, ready to haul it back to her for another strike as soon as it struck. She wasn't half bad in a fight, Gorgutz had to give her that.

She wasn't an ork though, and she wasn't expecting Gorgutz to get his powa claw into position to catch the spear. Not even the best of his mega-armored nobs could have made that catch, but Gorgutz made it look easy, stopping the spearpoint right before it pierced his own head. “Ya think it's gonna be that easy? 'ey I bet ya I can crush ya little spear, just see.” Gorgutz tightened his powa claw and Taldeer went wide eyed and pulled with all her power on the spear. It twisted. It turned in his grip. But it wasn't going anywhere. The Boyz went wild, cheering, whooping, and slamming their choppas into the icy ground. Taldeer held her tug of war for a moment longer, and then suddenly switched tactics.

Gorgutz roared as the Far seer invaded his mind, with all the grace and elegance of a bull in a china shop. His claw clenched, spurting hydraulic fluid onto the snow and his shoota fired wildly into the air. Gorgutz felt as though his brain was on fire, as though he was a lowly grot being tossed into the furnace to fuel a gargant. Pain was instantly transmuted into rage, and the rage became the power of the Waaagh. With a bellow like a boiler blowing it's safety valve, Gorgutz snapped the spear in half. “Datz it ya fah-seah! Nah morah Mistah Nice Ork! I'z gonna stomp ya good!”

The Metal plates that served as Gorgutz' feet had had new cleats welded onto them just before the final assault on the webway gates earlier that day. Those cleats were the only thing that kept him on his feet as he charged across the ice, claw and gun arm swinging wide out to the sides. His hips didn't allow for much rotation, and the resulting waddle looked almost comical. Taldeer didn't find it funny at all, as she desperately drew her shuriken pistol and attempted to unload all its remaining ammo into the hulking monster shambling towards her. Her shots struck true enough, adding to the mess that was the great ork's face, but he was ignoring her weapon in his mad charge. And she was running out of time. Taldeer cast about with her eyes, seeking some weapon, any weapon, that she could turn against the doom that approached her.

She could have picked up any one of a number of ork weapons, but instead she chose to try and reach a shuriken catapult that had fallen some sixty feet away. It was a formidable weapon, true, but it was a poor choice. Her foresight clouded, she did not foresee the sudden surge of speed that filled Gorgutz, and as she reached out to grasp the great weapon a pair of massive arms closed around her and slammed her into the metallic chest of Gorgutz 'ead 'unter.

Gotgutz tightened his grip on the Eldar as she shrieked and blasted away at him with her powers. He began to squeeze as she got a hand free and tried to pull, cut or blast his arms into uselessness. A few hydraulic lines snapped, but this did nothing to stop the relentless crush of Gorgutz' bear hug. With every breath, Taldeer drew less air into her lungs, and her body and mind began to weaken. A sickening crack filled the air as her wraithbone armor gave way under the massive pressure. The cheers of the orks drowned the sound of her ribs giving way in quick succession, but as she went limp from the pain, Gorgutz tossed her to the ground, and planted a foot on her chest. “Been a good chase eldar but I'z gonna take yah 'ead now.”

Gorgutz reached out with his massive powa claw, and teased the helmet from his opponent's head. For a moment her regarded her perfect features, marred by blood and sweat. Then her raised his weapon, took careful aim with only one of the 'fingers' on his artificial hand, and drove it straight into the icy ground on the other side of Taldeer's fragile neck. A quick twist separated the vertebra, and a single slash opened the left side of the neck. Another cut was needed to separate the right side of the neck from the body, but Gorgutz had his prize. All over the hill, and quickly spreading down the slopes, the boyz gave tongue, chanting wildly. Gorgutz waddled over to a maddok and shoved the head into its hands. “‘Ere, make sure dis is good and dry. I want dem eldar to be able to tell I got dere fah-seah's 'ead.”

The warboss turned back to his boyz, and raised his voice. “Oy ya gitz! What ya standing around fah? Stomp those Eldar things! Dat wraithbone'll look real good spread all over the ground, nah won't it?” The Orks went wild, and tore off, waving choppas and laughing as they smashed into the first line of the Eldar fortifications that now stood abandoned. Lobba shells arced into the rear of the fortress, and hundreds of shootas fired into whatever targets presented themselves. What seemed like a whole looted armored company rolled up onto the flat top of the hill, and simply drove over anything in it's path.

“Gorgutz looked out over his domain and it was good. A groan from the ground drew his attention, and he found one of his best Mega-armored nobs lying on the ground with a rather nasty looking spear wound in his stomach. “Oy, what ya doing there? Did da little Eldar poke ya with 'er stick” The smaller ork smiled grimly up at his Warboss. “Well, she might 'ave stuck me, but I made a big show about falling ovah so she woulda fogotten about me and I coulda got her from the back.” Gorgutz reached out and grabbed the nob. “Well, I t'ink that's Mork talk, and I won't have mah nobs talkin' like that. Mah komandos sure, but not me nobs!” Then he clobbered the nob on the back. “Nah, I'll forgives ya if ya can use dat t'inker to t'ink me up a new name.”

“What's wrong with the name ya got boss?” The poor ork scratched his head. “Gorgutz is a nice name. Cor, I wish I had a name like yours.” Gorgutz groaned and whacked his nob again. “I mean an new name like 'ead 'unter. Cept this one's gotta tell everybody I killed dat Eldar Tall-dear.” the Nob scrunched up his face. “Well, yah could call yah self 'dat boss dat killed dat eldar, but I think ya probably wouldn't like dat one.” At gorgutz' raised arm, the nob scurried to the side and thought very fast. “'Ow 'bout dis one, 'Ghost-Killa'? It makes ya sound all mis-serious.” Gorgutz stayed his hand and tapped his mega-powa claw on the ground. “Dat ain't 'alf bad. Tell all da boyz dat I'm Gortgutz Ghost-Killa 'Ead 'Unter now. And make sure dey get it right. I won't have dem boys sayin' dat I'm somthin stupid. Like 'grazz-killa or som'tin' like dat.” Gorgutz stomped on the shuriken Catapult. “And den, we're gonna go stomp some odda boyz. Find meh some more boyz tah stomp when yah'z done.” The tinkle of breaking wraithbone echoed through the crisp air. “Dis Waaagh ain't ovah yet.”

[Ford Prefect]

Ah, Orks. Beautiful.

[Vehrec]

Thanks for the comments, and Yes the Orks are a hoot to write. Saddly, they put a bit much strain on my Grammer glands.

The Green Coast is one of my favorite levels. A determined attacker would probably be able to steamroll this level in half an hour. This is good because you get real tired of the Tau and Eldar strongholds after seven play throughs of the game. This particular one is a bit tricky, because I’ve got little actual experience with Chaos’ thought patterns. So here we go, into the breach again.

Victory Three: The Green Coast.
+++Five days after detonation of Gorgutz’ Rok.
Eliphas the Inheritor knelt in prayer before the alter in the sanctum being built around him. The Green Coast had not known a proper chapel in its history, and the Word Bearers were doing all in their power to change that. Human slaves of the Orks had been freed and ‘allowed’ to convert and build the cathedral now starting to rise from the swamp. The Tau slaves had been mixed into the mortar, blood and bone. It was a tribute to Khorne, just as each of the other gods of Chaos had a selected tribute in the structure of the temple. The Ceiling would be painted with images of value to Slannesh to inspire those who looked upon it. The buttresses had cut out portions that formed runes of Tzench, the tunnels under the building and its very sides would become niches filled with every kind of life that the jungle could support, just as Nurggle would want. It was barely begun however, the excavations for the eight pointed chapel still delving to bedrock. In other places, the foundations were now complete, and two of the walls were beginning the long climb up to the sky. Work never would be allowed to cease on this chapel until it was finished, and before the month was out the roofing would be fitted into place. In his minds eye, kneeling before the improvised alter, he could see the temple to the Chaos gods serving as a focus for chaos worshipers from the entire southern part of the continent.

While every Word Bearer champion and many of the lesser Brothers had joined him here today, several of those under his command were conspicuously absent from the early morning services. Foremost among them were two Brother-lieutenants, both from different Legions, but temporarily answering the call of Eliphas to bring Chaos to this planet. Lieutenant Drospal was of the Alpha legion and had been the first servant of the chaos gods to set foot on this planet before the invasion. He was tiny for a space marine, in either the Eye or the Imperium, and used this to his advantage by passing as a normal-if rather large and fit—human. It had been he who had provided the heretic texts to Flavian and Vergilus. He had opened the door, and continued to serve Eliphas as his far roaming eye. For this, he had earned some leniency.

The other absentee was far more worrying. Lieutenant Gaius had come from the World Eaters, and had all the classic symptoms of Khornite bloodlust combined with a set of demonic gifts that made him an almost perfect melee machine. Gaius could barely restrain himself from killing without care under normal circumstances, but five days had passed since Gorgutz had slipped away from his axe and Eliphas’ Crozius. In the chaos that had followed, Gorgutz had blown up the plasma reactors in his own crashed Rok, before hopping in a fighta-bomba and fleeing the system. The remaining Orks had mostly cut each other to pieces, and the survivors had gone to ground in the swamps and jungles. Gaius was out hunting them, trying to find a worthy kill in the remaining bunch. So long as Gaius did not loose patience with his hunt, things might go well. But if the Khornite decided to press the issue of why they were staying. . .

Well, they say that if one speaks of the Daemon he doth appear. So to did Gaius ride his Juggernaut into the construction site, knocking over piles of supplies, and sending workers sprawling. Eliphas sighed, prayed for forgiveness for not finishing his devotional and stood to face the Khornite. It seemed that things were about to come to a head between him and the fool. And . . . yes, he had brought all his followers. There might only be 20 or so Khorne berserkers in the camp, but they were all here. Eliphas’ Champions were a similar number but a fight here could gut his forces of their best hand to hand fighters and his best lieutenants. He’d have to try and talk this out.

“Brother Gaius, blessed of Khorne, explain yourself.” Polite but firm. A reminder of who was in charge here. And a reasonable response to his appearance here, in a place of worship he would probably never visit again if he could help it.

“You know what I’m going to say Apostle Eliphas. So why don’t we skip ahead to the part where I call you out for sitting still while the enemy is all around us? You’ve lost your mind Eliphas! These Tau Xenos, Necrons, servants of the false Emperor are all hungering for our blood. And you move against none of them! The blood god will not have his thirst slaked for long by the thin Ork blood that you spilled here Eliphas!”

Eliphas blinked under his helmet. Someone had been talking to Gaius. He wasn’t trying to kill him yet. “We Word Bearers serve Chaos Undivided and the spiritual needs of all those who serve the true gods. Khorne may demand blood and skulls at all times, but I have need to think of the other gods of Chaos. And there are other ways to appease him besides endless slaying of one’s enemies”

Gaius hissed and drew his daemonweapon, an axe that dripped blood and gore onto the ground under it. “I do not approve of your tone Eliphas. There is no higher praise of Khorne than Blood and Skulls for him, and I will not hear otherwise. Perhaps the skull of Gorgutz would have been a worthy tribute, but you let him get away!”

Eliphas sprang forward, and swung his crozius, pinning both the axe and the powerful staff to the ground before grappling with Gaius. “Were you not at my side Gaius Blooddrinker? Did you too not also fail to claim the Ork’s skull for Khorne? Or did the blow to your head do more damage than I thought?” Gaius snarled and twisted, gripping Eliphas’ arm and the two began to wrestle for control. The fight lasted less than a minute before Gaius found himself on top of Eliphas, twisting his arm in such a way that it would surely dislocate both shoulder and elbow. Only Eliphas’ armor prevented Gaius taking the arm right here and now. That, and the fact that Eliphas’ champions had moved as one to form a wall around the two leaders and three of them now held power swords against him. Of course, that left the others encircled in turn by Khorne Berserkers.

The tense scene was broken by the sudden roar of a bike cresting a nearby hill, the rider waving excitedly to the assembled space marines. Indigo and silver armor had been covered with enough mud and leaves to render the rider looking like a piece of the swamp that had merely stood up and commandeered a bike. Lieutenant Drospal had returned from his scouting mission early, and was a welcome sight. The good humored Alpha legionnaire had a pair of dead grots hanging from his belt, probably intended to serve as a meal for later. The man would eat anything. Surprisingly, his Bolter and chainsword also hung at his sides, and in his hands he held a dirty cloth wrapped bundle. Stopping just outside the circle of Khoneites, he stood for a moment before dropping to one knee to peer through the legs of the other marines and then spoke. “Honored Apostle Eliphas? Are you in there?”

“It is good to hear your voice again Drospal.” Eliphas spoke quietly. “Tell me, how did the mission go?” The short Marine shrugged once and held up a hand before he realized that Eliphas couldn’t see his hand motions anyways. “It was eventful, I’ll say that. The Necrons are making a big stir up north, but they just keep pressing out in all directions without any force concentration. Its full scale war on three fronts up there around Thur’Abis. The only reason the machines haven’t been overrun is that the Loyalist fools are fighting each other and the Tau at the same time. We could take any of them, just a matter of picking.”

Gaius laughed at Eliphas. “You see? Even the coward agrees with me. Blood for the Blood God, Skulls for the Skull throne!” Eliphas took advantage of the distraction to continue. “Is there any other news?” Drospal removed his helmet and shoved his way past the two rings of Marines holding the bundle to his chest like an infant. “As a matter of fact. . . I found Gorgutz’ launch site. And a small pile of heads that the brute left behind in his haste. One caught my eye in particular and I thought you might appreciate it.” As he spoke he unwrapped the bundle, rags falling to the ground, revealing desiccated flesh, criss-crossed by scars. “Apostle Eliphas, may I present to you the head of Lord Crull of Lorn V?” The last wrappings fell away, stained by blood. The ruined eyes of the chaos Lord wept blood, even though years had passed since Gorgutz had ripped the head from its body. A murmur passed through the assembled crowd, and Gaius released Eliphas in shock.

Eliphas stretched out his hands to Drospal and was rewarded by the head being placed in his hands. It had rotted, but the blood flow from the eyes was a slow constant trickle. As Eliphas held it, some of the blood fell onto his hands. Without hesitation, he held the remnant of the once powerful Chaos Lord over his head. “In the name of Khorne, I offer up this sacrifice! May he accept his servant in death as he did in life!! His Blood for the Blood God! His skull for the skull throne!” A cheer was raised by the Berserkers, and even Gaius nodded his approval. A sudden cracking noise split the air as a miracle of transmutation occurred before the men. The Gauntlets that held the skull began to swell crack and split, opening up patterns of runes on their surface. Pain filled Eliphas’ mind but he did not cry out. Pain was an old friend, even if his hands now felt as if they were being crushed in a burning vice. Suddenly the pressure released, but the burning pain remained. Eliphas could FEEL the warp spirits that had taken up residence in his gauntlets. Experimentally, he shifted the head to his left hand and flexed his right. Then he handed the skull to Gaius before pulling his plasma pistol from his hip. Energy spidered from the gauntlets into the weapon. He returned it to its place, and the energy faded.

He needed to test this. “Get one of the slaves.” Two of the champions bowed and ran towards the workers, seizing one by the arms and hauling him over to the circle. Eliphas picked up his Crozius, the weapon pulling free from the ground with ease despite the force that had buried it. Red energy crackled around the weapon as he turned to regard the pitiful slave. A human female with one eye and no teeth, it was a miracle that she wasn’t already dead. Ignoring her pleas for mercy, he raised the Crozius and swung it down on her head with a single blow.

The old woman disintegrated under the blow, blood and flesh being torn apart before the metal of the Crozius even touched her. No single piece larger than a finger was left behind. Eliphas turned to Gaius who now had kneeled on the ground. “You see Gaius, I knew that Khorne would reward me for this gift. And his reward was generous indeed. With Khorne’s blessing I shall secure not only this world, but the next, and the one after that in turn. Rise Gaius, and serve Khorne through me.”

[Darth Tanner]

Good stuff, can't wait for the Necrons.

May have to actually buy the add on pack for this after all.

[Vehrec]

Good stuff, can't wait for the Necrons.

May have to actually buy the add on pack for this after all.

Actually, you will have to wait for the Necrons. They are gonna be the last story I'll do. However, to make up, it will be pure description of their cyclopean terror and works, and not a hint of conversation. As befits the servants of the C'tan.

[Vehrec]

Not quite happy with this one. I don’t really get Space Marines. Out of all the things I have planned, it’s the weakest of the stories so far. Oddly, the totally alien mindset of the Necrons and Eldar comes easier than that of the near-human Space Marine. I never planned on this taking so long, but I didn’t want to force it out. Now that it’s done, I can start work on the Tau.

Victory Four:Ah'sharis


Captain Davian Thule tracked the fleeing trio of battlesuits with his melta-pistol, before dropping it once they were safely out of sight. His left arm swung the Daemonhammer back onto his shoulder at an easy parade rest. The square was deserted except for himself and a pile of Tau dead that had thrown themselves at him in order to protect Aun’el Shi’ores. Not that it had mattered. His melta had burned the Ethereal down as Aun’el had tried to flee the square. Davian Thule would have used the hammer, but pulse fire had almost welded his left knee joint into a fixed position. Although the Ethereal’s body guard hadn’t had anything other than standard Pulse Rifles and Carbines, they had done serious damage to the young Captain’s armor. “Throne,” he breathed out slowly, “These Xenos are worse than I thought.”

Upon reflection, Davian had to admit that running after a fleeing robed figure had not been the smartest thing he had ever done. He could have called in a pinpoint bombardment, or coordinated with other units rather than abandon his plodding Brother-marines in their Tactical Dreadnaught armor. Instead, his youthful eagerness had again almost cost him his life. A quick glance at his armor’s status runes confirmed his worst fears. The Techmarines would have his head for this, especially the talented and experienced Brother Chios who had rigged the Teleporter he carried on his back. Pausing in his recrimination, he wondered where Brother Chios was. His vox unit had been strangely silent since he had taken a shot to the chest, and a few quick ritual thumps failed to revive it. Wonderful, just wonderful. His armor was blasted, his teleporter was . . . well he wasn’t about to check THAT, not here, his melta pistol was empty (he’d used it to bluff the Tau) and now his Vox had gone off to wherever machine spirits went when they expired. Some of the Techmarines murmured that he had been cursed by the Omnissaih, so often did his equipment fail or his bolter jam, even on the firing range. Days like today, he wondered if they didn’t have a point. He did seem cursed to somehow foul the rites of maintenance no matter how skilled he was in hand-to-hand or in the art of tactics and strategy.

On the other hand, the attack had gone very smoothly, the parts of it he had seen. They had been forced to forgo Thunderhawks by fierce Tau Anti-air fire, opting instead to blanket the landing areas with gun-pods before dropping in themselves. Himself, Epistolary Anteas, a full two squads of Battle Brothers in Terminator armor, and Venerable Brother Tobais. Tobias had insisted that he be accompanied by a Techmarine, in case anything happened, so the youngest Adept had squeezed into the same pod as the massive Dreadnought with all the gear that could be fit. It had to be done, because they would be dropping into enemy territory, and the Tau had shown a skill for catching their few heavy units unprepared. Tobias could be trusted to fight his way free of such situations, but he couldn’t be expected to fight his way through multiple traps without support. The adept would be hard pressed to keep up with the 3000 year old marine, but Tobias would probably need the help before the day was over. Combined with Reclusiarch Mikelus' attacks on the outer regions of the city, the Tau shouldn't have been able to assemble the forces needed to quash his forces in the citadel. Suddenly, reflexes honed by two centuries of battle snapped up Davian's hands and focused his mind. Sloppy, letting an unidentified contact get within fifty feet of him. Big contacts, moving slowly. If they were Broadsides, he might not survive a single shot from them. His knee still refused to flex smoothly, so he compensated by using his arm's strength to pull him around the corner, face to face with a plasma pistol.

“By the Unknown Primarch!” The silver hair of Epistolary Anteas was visible, his helmet removed, blood flowing from a burn mark on his forehead and into his right eye. Behind him, two Brothers stood with their Terminator armor scorched by near misses and direct hits alike. “Brother-captain, it is good to see you. The Xenos have begun to fall back and we are in pursuit. We will not allow them to escape with so much of their forces still intact.”

Davian shook his head and waved a hand. “The Ethereal is dead, and even if these Tau live in body, their hearts are dead. Let the Litany of Furry deal them death as they try to flee, I care not for their fates. And if we were to put the chase to them too hard, they might in their sorrow turn on us and fight like daemons.” He had heard reports of times when killing an Ethereal had backfired on a nearly victorious army, turning the formerly dispirited aliens into fearless terrors, caring not for their own deaths but only for the destruction of their enemies. The stance of the two battle-brothers seemed to indicate that they wanted to take the fight to the enemy, but oddly Anteas seemed to have other concerns.

“You slew the Ethereal? Well done young captain. We must be complete however, show us corpse and the spot where he fell.” That was odd. It was as if the Librarian wanted the corpse more than he did the win. Davian wondered sometimes about his command staff. Half of them seemed to be keeping the younger half in the dark, and he was included in that half. What a way to run a war.

“They took the body. Clean shot through the chest, vaporized a hole big enough to put your fist through. A crisis suit team and their commander evacuated the body.” No sense mincing words. “Anything left behind would be minuscule globules of cooked flesh. Now let me see your vox, I need to speak to Mikelus.”

Anteas seemed taken aback for a moment but then reached for his ear and detached a tiny combud and handed it to his captain. The bud was eased into his ear, and Davian fitted his helmet again, selecting the combud and using Anteas' armor transmitter. It was a stopgap at best, but it would do the job. “Mikelus, Davian, how goes the attack?”

For an instant, it seemed that the combud wasn't working, but then Mikelus responded. “Our Scout squads and skulls have cleared the rooftops of the Tau sniper elements Captain. Ave Imperator; in a few minutes our tactical squads will be in the Kroot quarter, and clear the last of those xenos. I myself and the Predators hold the central plaza and communications tower. The 'Son of Rage' suffered a hit to his right sponson but the 'Daughter of Zeal' is undamaged. Reports of retreating Xenos from the west are being confirmed as we speak.” Clear and clean reporting. Mikelus in and out of combat were totally different men. Once the fight was over, he would resume his preaching and prostyltizing.

“Good to hear Mikelus. Continue as planned.” He switched channels with a simple chin thrust that hit a button on the inside of his helmet. “Venerable brother Tobias, how fares the attack?” He still couldn’t stop worrying about the big lug. Tobias had awoken for this battle and had still been drowsy when he had been loaded into the drop pod. If he had been incapacitated or even worse killed it would be a terrible body blow for the whole chapter.

He shouldn’t have worried. Tobias’ “Reporting success” was as robust and bass as ever, calm and measured and totally aware. “Hold, target sighted. Firing.” The sound that came next was a shock to Captain Thule, as the sound of a Tau Railgun firing so close to Tobias that it would be audible through the coms was ear-splitting. More shocking was the clicks of what sounded like a loading mechanism. Tobias had landed with a pair of lascanons, a flamer and combat arm. None of which required ammo. “Target neutralized. Proceed Captain.”

Upon reflection he could only see one explanation. Still, he wanted to hear it from the Dreadnaught himself. “Tobias, have you acquired a Xenos weapon?” The Librarian’s head shot up and Davian waved him down with his free hand. Tobias sounded almost sheepish when he replied quietly. “Affirmative Captain. I suffered major damage to my Lascannon assembly upon landing. Adept Vedius determined it to be beyond repair. So I aided him in scavenging a replacement. One of the ‘Railheads’ was glad to lend its weapon after I smashed it.” For a moment Davian had a vision of Tobias ambushing a Tau tank, smashing it with his power claw, and then stripping the turret from its mounts. Poor Vedius probably had to tend the Xenos weapon with oils and blessings to keep it holy enough to remain attached to the Dreadnaught.

Davian’s reflection was interrupted by the sound of troopships rising from the last Tau held airfield in the city. Shielding his eyes with his hands he watched as a small fleet of Orcas and Mantas tried to break for orbit. Lascanons and a single railgun fired on the fleeing Xenos vessels and one began to fall back to the planet even as the others escaped. “Cease fire. Astardes are to begin sweep and purge operations. Locate and shut down the drone control center so we can bring in the Thunderhawks.” Davian’s orders were clipped and short by his standards. “In Nomine Imperator, we have won the day. Now we must win the world.” He turned his com off, and handed the bud back to Anteas.

For a moment, he would forget about the battle in the city. He trusted Mikelus’ experience and the skills of his men. For a moment, he would kneel and give thanks to his Grandfather the Emperor. For a moment, he could be Davian instead of Captain Thule. And then he would arise and be a commander of Astardes again.

[Shroom Man 777]

It's Astartes. But I like it! It's great, and I think that Dreadnaught Tobias was the best. A Dread ambushing a Tau tank and stealing it's gun? Genius!

[Vehrec]

Yeah, that little idea kept plauging me, but I figured that if one was a dread, one would adapt to little problems like loosing your arm by scrounging a new one until somthing appropriate can be found.

Speaking of Tau, what is this I see? Is it a new chapter, despite my personal reservations? It is! Oh, caloo-calay, oh wonderous day! Or not, depending on how you feel about Tau overrunning Chaos held possitions. Once again, I don't feel like I have mastered this race, but I'm posting this anyway so I can get to work on the Guard.

Victory 5: Deimos Peninsula
+++2 Rotta after the destruction of the Warp gate.
Shas'o Tau Kais Mont'yl Dec'ka turned his attention to the nearest piece of twisted metal on the top of the blasted hilltop. His single bodyguard stood stiffly at attention in his battlesuit, an older model XV-8 with a plasma rifle and flamethrower. O'Kais shook his head as he kicked the metal. “A pity that the gateway was destroyed in such a violent fashion. That the Gue'vessa could build such a thing . . .” Half the hill had been scoured away by the explosion of light and color that had signaled the end of the battle, a signal that he himself had barely seen. On the other hand, most who had seen it were. . . incapacitated. The only coherent survivors of the blast had been one of his elite stealth teams, and they had been refusing to talk to anyone about what they had seen except to insist that the remains of the Gue'vessa encampment be set to the flame from orbit. He focused his eyes on the runes on the side of the metal, unfamiliar shapes in no language he knew. They seemed to writhe and twist, yet at the same time bored into his head like a drill. Maybe it was safer to do that anyways. He had himself faced off against the creature that one of the Earth Caste scientists had called Khorne based on intercepted communications. He didn't think that was it's name. He thought it was just a servant of this Khorne. And that scared him. Stupid and foolhardy as the creature had been, his full complement of weapons hadn't been enough to kill it quickly, and he had seen it take a full missile barrage from a Skyray. And those berserkers hadn't seemed to worship it in any meaningful way.

This whole peninsula had been a learning experience for him. Waves upon waves of fanatics he had seen before. The Gue'vre were new to him, but he had been briefed on the possibility that such warriors would be encountered. That they were fallen from even their horrid master's grace was unexpected. Several additional briefings were released to him by Aun'el at that point and he had heard for the first time of 'Chaos.' And as they had pressed forward, things had turned surreal. Jungles gave way to twisted swamps, dieing as they grew. Swamp gave way to bare rock that belched forth fire and bled when cut into. He had declared a state of emergency in the province after that, and banned the Water and Earth castes from the area as they were non-combatants. Outside his authority, but he was the only 'o of any caste in the Shan'Al with the exception of the Air Caste Admirals. And none of them wanted to be anywhere near Deimos anymore. He'd also after reading one of the files ordered the Kroot out as fast as he could. Not all of them, but those he had retained were troublemakers to begin with. If something went wrong, they would take the blame, and not their races' habit of eating the dead as a whole. He'd also taken the liberty of reorganizing his La'Rua to strip out the 'ui from training cadres and send them back from training local fire caste warriors in the use of the Pulse Rifle and the other gear of a Tau warrior. He had so doubted his victory that he had set his own training schedule back weeks in order to get his cadres at full strength. He had need of those local fire caste, without them as Shas'la total victory was very much in doubt.

Then again, victory here had been very much in doubt just two rotta earlier when the fire warriors had begun the push into the Deimos peninsula proper. He hadn't slept a wink since, but the greater good had been served. With the collapse of the structures upon this plateau, all organized resistance had ceased, and only a few blood cults still fought on. The monstrosity had been laid low by his hand . . . TWICE. Next time, he would have the Kroot send a Knarloc. He didn't care about the mess anymore. He wasn't doing that again. His shoulder was aching from the shock of firing his new plasma rifle in the last couple of rotta. There had been no Mont'ka, nor Kauyon here. Weighed down by the enemy's press, cadres had been robbed of their mobility. Fire Warriors had fired until the barrels of the pulse rifles had warped. So much ammunition had been expended that Devilfish had been pulled to run resupply. But eventually the enemy had fallen back. And then he had struck, with all the fury he could muster. One flank was rolled up by advancing forces, while he personally had led a hunter Cadre in the attack on the central position to shut down the ritual that fueled the Blood Pulse. Stripped of that obscene defense, only the twisted Space Marines had stood firm, guarding the approaches to the final stronghold. Their primitive looking fighting vehicles had proven formidable, and as Defilers fenced with XV-8s a small group had pushed on ahead. He could still see in his mind's eye the Skyrays filling the air with missiles, the enemy anti-artillery firing back as the missiles slipped out of view. The explosion that had rocked the entire plateau and the scream of agony that had to have been heard by every warrior on the peninsula. Shortly thereafter the enemy had abandoned their positions, fighting to break out, or retreating in disarray. The province was his, for what it was worth. Standing here, in the heart of the corruption, he wondered if burning it wasn't the best thing he could do.

Suddenly, O'Kais heard the familiar sound of an Orca powering in for a landing. Something he had most certainly not authorized. “Incoming transport. Identify yourself or be shot down.”

The laugh that bubbled over the com channel was one that made his heart skip a beat. “I had better excuse myself O'Kais. You are justified in your suspicion. As you are no doubt now aware, I am Aun'el Shor'ess.”

O'Kais cleared his throat once before responding. “My most sincere apologies Aun'el. You may of course conduct yourself wherever you will.” Oh, that was most embarrassing. He had challenged an Ethereal. He would never live that down if the news got out.

Aun'el seemed to have different ideas though. “Well, I was planning on conducting myself nearer to you honored Shas'O, so that we might have some discussions. Stand by.” The Orca dropped down from the cloud deck and plummeted to the ground, stopping a bare meter above bare rock, and O'Kais' breath caught at the sight. What a foolhardy act for one carrying a Ethereal! He rushed forward to the transport, but before he could reach it, Aun'el threw open the door and laughing leapt to the ground.

What a specimen of his caste! Aun'el Shor'ess was athletic, well spoken, gifted with logic and humor while at the same time able to hold his own in combat. His majesty and sudden rise to power had to have been ordained by fate, for his boundless optimism had held the mission to Kronos together since the desperate beginning. His robes seemed to float above the impure ground, his sandaled feet barely touching it. O'Kais had to restrain himself from bowing, but could not restrain himself from scolding. “Aun'el, this is still dangerous territory! You should not have come!”

The Ethereal waved off his concerns with a backhand. “Nonsense O'Kais. You are here, and I have my honor blade. We shall be safe enough. Life without risk is not worth living, yes?”

O'Kais paused half a second before bowing his head. “It pains me to allow you to risk yourself Aun'el. I would not loose you, or any other.”

Aun'el's expression softened in some ways and hardened in others. He solemnly intoned his next words with care. “Well are you named Bloodless. You do not seek death for any unless it is forced upon you.” The secondary connotation of that name, that it was attached to a unblooded commander was left alone. “You have done well here O'Kais. Certain matters have come to my attentions that require addressing, but your actions have made them easier. You have my personal thanks for your considerations.” The Kroot matter. Ugly business but necessary. The Greater Good would be served. And several thousand Kroot would be executed. Lessons learned in previous conflicts would be applied here. The shapers need not be informed.

“Where then, O'Kais, shall you next turn your attentions?” The Ethereal was now seated on an overturned fragment of warp gate, his feet several units above the ground, his honor blade laid across his lap.

The question was not an unexpected one. It was something he had thought of on many an occasion. And he had what he hoped was a satisfactory answer. “Aun'el, I have begun to prepare a military expedition south. It is my sincere belief that one front must be closed before we can concentrate on securing this world for the Greater Good. The Ork position is weaker, and we need not drive them into the sea to be victorious, only drive them to discord so that the pieces may be easily collected. So long as they are united under this Gorgutz, they will attack our southern flank and divide our attentions. With the Warlord removed, we shall have dominance over the whole of the southern quarter of the continent.” He paused to allow for the obvious response.

“We did not come to this world for Orks Shas'O. We came here because of these robotic relics rising from the center of the continent. Why have you not made a move against these invaders from the past?” The words were not a rebuke, but not a question either.

Shas'O Tau Kais reached up and removed his helmet, so that he could look on the face of Aun'el with his own eyes, and so that Aun'el could see himself. “I dare not move against an unknown enemy. We would learn of them, but do so in blood. Let the enemy bleed themselves white upon unyielding metal soldiers so that we may learn how not to be such fools as to allow such a thing. Let me blood our recruits on the Orks, because they will find no blood in these Necrons. Give me the time to find a weakness! We cannot defeat them by force alone; we must use our wits Aun'el!” He stopped and bowed his head. “Please Aun'el. I only need time.”

The Ethereal lifted his honor blade, and sunk it into the stone with a snick and snap. “Time shall be granted to you O'Kais. We shall discuss this in greater detail with the Shan'Al, but I will give you all that is in my power to give. You serve the greater good well, and do honor to your Sept and your Caste.” Aun'el bowed his head, much to O'kais' horror. “You do us all honor, Supreme Commander. Remember that.” Overhead, blue skies broke through the purple and red clouds that overhung the peninsula. And it was a Greater Good than it had been.

[Sidewinder]

Good stories, although the use of Tau terms confused me until I could guess some of their meanings.

I'm also curious how you'll do a story on as alien a race as the Necrons.

[Shroom Man 777]

This is great, I love the Tau's depiction in this one. It's almost as good as the bits with dem orkz!

[Vehrec]

Sidewinder: Necrons is going to be interesting. I've got it all planned out. I purposefully used Tau terms to enhance the feel of 'alien' as I felt it would otherwise be lacking from this piece.

Shroomy: Seriously? I felt this was one of the weakest overall. Different strokes I guess.

[Satori]

Alter is to change. Chaos has "Altars" in it;s temples. (Ch3)

Brilliant writing. Even if you did kill ofF Taldeer you B*st*d

[The Grim Squeaker]

Wonderful stories, wish I'd written it myself (Were I to start now, I'd be ripping you off, you patenting bastard ).