Eldar Reports: Week 6

[IncubiLord]

The narrative portion of all Eldar battle reports should be posted here until next week's thread is set up.

Remember that this is a narrative campaign and we are looking for a story that advances the plot, not a blow-by-blow accounting of the game.

[eldarcommander]

Huthero the War-rider strode to battle alongside his Exarchs and Farseers. They smashed like a tidal wave against the Yngir lines. The Yngir did nothing to retreat, instead their silvery forms stayed in formation and their weapons reaped a terrible toll on Eldar life. Tomb Spiders and destroyers hovered in from the side and surrounded the Eldar. The battle waxed and waned and just as it appeared the Eldar would get the upper hand, horrible Flayed Ones emerged from the ground, the silver forms draped with the skins of Eldar warriors who had fallen earlier in the campaign.

The sight of these abominations drove Huthero into a frenzy and he swung left and right slaughtering his way to the Yngir lord. He and his command squad smashed through the lines until they came upon the great lord himself. Huthero ordered his squad to engage the Lord's bodyguards while he challenged the lord to single combat. Huthero struck first and then struck again and again, his fury driving him on faster and faster. The Lord parried the first few blows but then the Eldar's fury overwhelmed him. Huthero cut him down and as he fell, he ordered his Fire Dragons to incinerate what remained of the body. The Lord would trouble them no more.

He turned and raised his sword in victory shouting to Khaine in his joy of battle. As he turned though, he realized what the battle had cost him. He and a handful of Eldar were all that remained of the once mighty army he commanded. All around were scattered thousands of dead Eldar, and already the Yngir forms were phasing away to be repaired.

"NO! Xserxias, burn those Yngir, let none escape to haunt us again."

Xserxias nodded and his squad of Fire Dragons stalked the battlefield, incinerating everything that wasn't Eldar. Like capricious gods of Old, they brought fire and fusion to the Yngir corpses and let none escape to the Tombs to be repaired.

"Was this a victory?" Huthero thought to himself. "When does the cost become to high? Our race can ill afford to fight in many such engagements."

"You did what you had to my lord," Muttered Farseer Vialia of Alaitoc as if she was reading his thoughts. "The Yngir must be pushed back."

"But at this cost sister? Was it worth this many lives?"

"That is not my decision to make Auturch, but we have faith in you. The dead know the sacrifice they made, and they would do it again gladly."

"Perhaps sister." Huthero said, "Perhaps."

He scanned the battlefield once again and then it he saw something that made him scream to Asuryan in rage and sorrow. Exarch Beathier, most mighty Exarch of the Dark Reapers and Huthero's oldest friend and comrade lay among the dead or dying. Huthero ran to his side.

"NooooO!!!!!!" He screamed long and loud, and every psyker within a hundred miles felt his anguish on their conciousness. The Chaos took delight in these screams and the Imperial's cowered under the weight of Huthero's sorrow. The Eldar wept with him as he lifted his friends body with gentleness and carried him slowly back to the Wave-Serpent that brought them to this cursed place. All about the battlefield, the Eldar were gathering their bodies of the dead, and bringing their spirit stones with them back to their respective Craftworlds. Huthero knew that Beathier's spirit would never be at peace in the Infinity Matrix, so he vowed to ask the Spiritseer Vralis from Inyaden to help him find peace in one of the great Wraithlords.

[kyrolon]

Farseer Jaheris of Alaitoc sat in calm meditation. The attacks of the Yngir had come more and more frequently of late. The forces cordoning the ancient crystal vessel from prying eyes were getting thinner and thinner. Only a couple of days ago ancient Exarch Beathier, one of Huthero war rider's retinue, had fallen in the most bitter fight yet. Now they were down to using Wraith constructs to hold the ancient enemy at bay while Reghild and his team of pathfinders searched for the secret of recovering the ship. Deep within his meditation Jaheris felt the light mental touch of Farseer Vialia upon him.

Jaheris?

Yes, Vialia?

I have news for you, but you must center yourself and remain calm. Do you understand?

I do.

Very well. I have concluded a truce with the Humans. Master Tarrant of the Blood Dragons Astartes has agreed to aid us in holding onto the ship. He will be sending a detachment of his troops to support you. They are under the command of a Captain Tevon.

Jaheris' thoughts swam in dark and angry seas at this outrage. He nearly lost the focus he promised the younger Farseer he would maintain at the thought of being forced to fight beside the stinking humans who barely rose above the level of animals in their intelligence.

Jaheris! Center yourself! Now.

The elder Farseer regained his sense of calm with the iron will of an ancient psyker.

Have we become so desperate?

We have. I will not rouse yet more of our dead. We will not become the Iyanden. Gaerin and the exarchs will have to be enough.

As you wish. I must begin planning. Our reinforcements have arrived. The Yngir will attack soon again I am sure.

Take care, old friend. I will send Danar to assist you in guiding the Wraith units.

I am not yet old, child. And Danar will be most welcome.

Jaheris sensed the image of Vialia's beautiful face with the ghost of a smile upon her lips, an image he had seen infrequently since their arrival in the Tiorl system. He gently broke the mental link sending a sense of well being back to his beleaguered leader and rose from his position of meditation. In the distance an ugly, boxlike transport of the type used by the Astartes was permitted to land and disgorge its cargo. Twenty massively armored humans marched down the ramp in loose order followed by a half dozen even more massive Terminator Marines in the armor that could turn aside even a power weapon. The marines assembled at the foot of the ramp and another of the massive Terminators, with the markings of a Captain, strode down the ramp alone. As soon as his foot hit the ground the huge Thunderhawk gunship took off again spinning away into the void above. Behind Jaheris the Wraithlord, Gaerin, stepped forward to support his Farseer.

"You are Tevon?" Jaheris asked in the primitive, broken language of the humans.

"I am," the marine replied.

"The Yngir, those you call Nec-rons, will be upon us again soon. My warriors have already taken up positions. I assume you will dispose your troops as best benefits the situation."

"I will. I certainly will not have you "disposing" of them, Xenos," the Captain answered with clear contempt in his voice.

As the two leaders glared daggers at one another a Pathfinder of Reghild's squad, left behind when the rest of the team entered the ship, approached at a jog.

"Destroyers, Master. The Yngir approach."

"Very well. I will leave you to fight your own battle, Captain. Gaerin, get our forces into position. Danar, join the Wraithguard. See to it they remain focused on the here and now."

The young warlock nodded and left to join the Wraithguard. The Marines took up position in an adjacent wood for the most part, but a single one of their squads, armed with a massive lascannon, took position behind the Wraithguard together with the pathfinders. As the forces settled into place, three of the scouting jetbikes came racing back to the lines. They had been five strong when they left.

The Yngir approached in the same old way, as they had been doing since almost the dawn of time. Three almost solid phalanxes of warriors led the way supported by squadrons of regular and heavy destroyers. The defenders opened fire as they approached, the pathfinders picking out weak spots in the constructs armor while Gaerin unleashed Krak missiles and bursts of his bright lance at the supporting destroyers.

The attack focused on the marines in the woods to Jaheris' right. The Yngir had sent one group of warriors in a bid to surround the known Eldar positions, and were surprised to find the new support they had gained. Even so, the marines began taking losses.

"Danar, we must find the leader and destroy it. Take the fight to them."

Danar nodded and led the Wraithguard forward into a squad of Yngir warriors. Wraithguns ripped small voids into the warp and warriors were torn into pieces as they were pulled into the immaterium. The marines and Pathfinders added their fire to that of the Wraith constructs. The last warrior was cut down by Danar himself in close assault with his Singing spear.

No sooner had the squad of warriors been finished off than the squad leader of the marines next to Jaheris approached the Farseer.

"Captain Tevon wishes to convey that another squad of warriors approaches."

This was it then, thought Jaheris, it was to be a battle of annihilation. The Necrons would keep sending warriors until they were all wiped out.

Danar, you must get to that Lord.

As you command, Farseer.

Danar sprang forward, Singing Spear in hand, two of his five Wraithguard and the Wraithlord following. The Necron destroyers did their best to protect their Lord, but the Pathfinders sniped three from the air in a single volley of fire while Gaerin brought down the heavy destroyer with a burst from his bright lance.

The Necron Lord advanced from the woods, his Warscythe swinging, cutting through the last of the wraithguard and striking Danar a wicked blow. Before the ancient and powerful leader of the dead could finish off the Warlock Gaerin stepped over his fallen comrade and grasped the Necron Lord in his mighty power fists. Before he could be dispatched though the Lord activated his teleportation device. The Yngir disappeared from the field.

Jaheris surveyed the battlefield. The Jetbike squadron, their harassment of the Necrons complete, fanned out again to begin scouting. The surrounding area was empty of threat. They had held. The Necrons would trouble the ship no more and Reghild would be able to complete his mission. Begrudgingly, he had to credit Vialia's foresight. The only dead on the field were humans. The Soulstones of the Wraithguard would be recovered, and Danar, though injured, would live. The old Farseer smiled behind his ghosthelm. As long as humans were dying he was happy.

[eldarcommander]

Huthero and Beathier, now in his new Wraithlord body, constructed by the finest Bonesingers, and imbued with Beathier's spirit by Spiritseer Vralis, waited patiently aboard the Vampire strike transport. They would be going to fight the Yngir once again. The Guardians with them were all young by the standards of the Eldar and all had heard of the exploits of Huthero and Beathier over the years on the Craftworld. They were all seething with hatred at what the Yngir had done, but between Huthero and Beathier, that hatred burned like fire. There was a veritable aura about them that they could not control.

The Vampire stopped and the ramp opened, Huthero and Beathier leaping out. Beathier's Brightlance was already burning holes through the atmosphere, each one blasting through a metallic body of their most hated enemies. Huthero strode forward blasting right and left with his shuriken catapult, each one finding a weak point in enemy armor. Their rage burned white hot, each blow they struck found a vital area, and each round they fired took another Yngir down. The guardians rushed forward to catch their lords, but by the time they arrived the battle was practically over, Huthero and Beathier's uncontrollable rage had led them to slaughter all before them. Huthero hadn't lost a man, but the Yngir had suffered horrible losses, the toll spiralling into the hundreds. As was now his standard procedure, Huthero ordered his Fire Dragons to incinerate the bodies of the fallen Yngir so they would never again trouble his people.

The battle over, the Guardians calmed themselves and made their way to the transports, but Beatheir and Huthero still burned with the dark rage they felt. From orbit, Farseer Vialia saw the pinpricks of hate and rage and prayed that Huthero had not let his rage consume him utterly, making him unable to command effectively. It was a question only time could answer.

[kyrolon]

Shia checked the setting of her powersword one last time as the squad of Howling Banshees crept silently closer to the Yngir outpost. Farseer Vilia had dispatched her squad, a full ten Banshees, to investigate what the Necrons were doing in the Lazaras belt. For the last two weeks the Eldar forces in and around the Dark Crystal ship had been under siege by the once living. Now Vialia was concerned that the Necrons might be involved in similar projects to their own efforts.

Ahead of her, among the rocks of the Lazarus belt, was a small group of Warriors, just over a dozen, under the guidance of one of the soulless Pariahs with its formidable war scythe. At the center of the position was a portable data collection unit. This was her objective. They were to attack quickly and gather what information they could from the data terminal about what the Necrons were doing, and escape again.

Shia looked to Mieirn, her second, and nodded. With a lightning fast sprint the warrior maidens broke from cover charging at the Necron warriors. In an instant the first three fell to the onslaught, even their hardened metal bodies paralyzed by the wail of the Banshees and cut down easily with power swords.

Shia led the rest of the squad toward the next group of warriors while Mierin began downloading data from the terminal using a hand held mini comp designed to interface with the Yngir technology. As they waited for her to finish the rest of the Necron Warriors began thier assault. For the next several minutes Shia could not say what happened, but the Banshees laid into the Necrons for all they were worth. Shia herself caught the Pariah from behind while it was busy fighting Kylah and Furvah to its front. Despite their efforts the monster's war scythe already dripped with Eldar blood.

Silence descended again. Four still forms lay among the wreckage of the Necron constructs. Shia found Mierin among them, her body wrapped protectively around the minicomp containing the data they came for. With a heavy heart she said a silent prayer to Isha and commended her friend's soul to rest in peace. She personally collected the spirit stones from the fallen.
She hoped the information they had gathered would tell them what the Yngir were up to.

As silently as they had come, Death's Maidens departed again.

[kyrolon]

Reghild ducked back around the corner as the splinter rounds ricocheted from the wall just above his head. This was the third ambush of their dark kin they had encountered since entering the Dark Crystalline ship. The more he saw of it, the more he was convinced that the ship was of Old One construction, and may be as old as the War in Heaven itself. Around the corner the sound of buzzing chainswords and the whine of mandiblasters indicated the end of the obstruction.

The path thus far was not easy. The Dark Kin had obviously been here ahead of them. They found dead Orks and Tyranids throughout the ship, all killed by the Splinter weapons of the denizens of Commoragh. They had taken casualties. In the very first room they entered, two hulking Tyranid Warrior biomorphs had dropped from the nest they had made in the arched ceiling of the room. Naliath and Veronwe had died to their scything talons before the two striking scorpions accompanying them had cut the beasts down.

It had been smoother travel since then. They had overcome several small groups of Dark Eldar without loss. Their only additional loss had come when Janiel had been cut down by some kind of automated defense turret that dropped from the ceiling without warning.

Now, having navigated the maze like corridors, Reghild, the two Striking Scorpions, and two additional pathfinders of his own troop, stood before the door to the ship's control center. He opened the door.

The Pathfinder had little time to appreciate the architecture of the ship's bridge. Leaning casually against what appeared to be the main control panel was one of the most beautiful Eldar women he had ever seen. She was barely clad in only a long loin cloth and a weapon holster wrapped about her upper torso. Her dark lips and shadowed eyes stood out in stark contrast to her pale flesh. It was the first time he had encountered a Dark Eldar Wych, and he could see all the old tales come to life.

"Congratulations," she purred, "you have proven yourselves worthy to die by our hands. If only you knew the honor it was..."

As she spoke, two of the high backed chairs on the bridge spun to reveal two more of the lithe gladiatrixes. A door at the back of the room opened and three more Dark Eldar warriors stepped into the room, one of them armed with a deadly Splinter Cannon.

Reghild didn't hesitate, he charged forward to engage the Wych that had spoken while the two Striking Scorpions charged at her counterparts, mandiblasters spitting. The other two pathfinders sought cover in the doorway and opened fire with their shuriken pistols at the warriors with the splinter cannon. The Wych succubus spun a somersault and lashed at him with a razor studded whip. He quickly parried and sent a spray of shurikens in her direction, only to find that she had dodged out of the way. To his right Ailath, one of the Scorpions, took the brunt of a Wych's attacks trusting in his armor to defeat them and ran the lithe female through with his chainsword. Lorvra, the other scorpion, was not so lucky, as a wych's poison blade drove deep into the intersection of two of his armored plates. The aspect warrior dropped to the ground spasming in convulsions. Reghild was worried that the wych, now free would take him from behind. Instead the Succubus looked at her subordinate and shook her head.

"Go fight the other ugly one, the pretty one is mine."

Reghild attacked while she was momentarily distracted. She parried like lighning her Hydraknives always threatening. Khaine was watching over him though as the dark one slipped in Lorvra's blood and he pinned her to the floor with his sword.

"Impossible..." she whispered.

"Better lucky than good," he replied with a smirk, twisting his blade in her pale abdomen to finish her.

He looked up from him kill to see Ailath cut down the warrior with the splinter cannon. Behind him Zenara, one of the two remaining pathfinders was down, splinters embedded in her chest. The fight was over and the bridge was theirs.

"Notify Vialia immediately. Give her a map of our route and request that they get reinforcements in here as soon as possible."

He crossed to the control panel and sat down to see what he could learn, and to see if all they had lost since coming to Tiorl was worth it.