Colonel Strauss walked from the open door of his personal transport vehicle followed by his command team. His Executive Officer followed not far behind him murmuring suggestions and ideas as they walked. Several nervous foot soldiers followed,lasguns held high and at the ready, as the party crossed the blasted out square where Summerset and Beacon Streets met. This intersection was framed by smashed buildings, debris was scattered around the remains of a statue. And several burned out civilian vehicles still smoldered from the bombardment only days ago. Large columns of smoke rose beyond the square and in the distance the rattle of bolter fire could be heard. The Colonel seemed not to hear his Executive as he walked. This was not for the sound of war but the thoughts in his own head. His face was set hard and focused on the task before him. Behind him one could observe the turret of the command APC rotating, the crewman scanning the scene ahead.
Before the Colonel, on the other side of the square, stood several large shapes. Three massive robotic forms stood in the street ahead. Their white and orange carapaces towered three times the height of a man. Their shoulder mounted weapons scanned the street. Massive jetpacks formed the bulk of their mass and huge carapaces dominated their forms. Green robotic eyes scanned the Chimera APC and the approaching humans. In front of the large robotic forms stood a solitary Tau. He wore a simple garb. A tan jacket, fastened with silver buttons. He wore light close cropped leggings, in the Tau style. His head was exposed to the air and his dark hair was formed into several long tails that hung to his waist. His face seemed to be expressionless. When the Colonel neared the Tau's mouth approximated a human smile.
"Colonel, it is so good to finally meet you in person" the Tau spoke in flawless Imperial Gothic which startled the guardmen. "I have listened to your many patriotic broadcasts to your troops. Very stirring". The Colonel frowned. He was uncomfortable with this alien addressing him so casually.
"What is it that you want alien? You requested this meeting" he said through his teeth. Again the Tau appeared to smile.
"I appreciate you taking the time in the midst of war to parley with me." The alien's arms opened in a welcoming gesture. His hands, three fingers a piece, open, palm up. "You and I stand here at the beginning. When the flint in the tinder box is about to light a spark. At this moment we can douse that spark before it becomes a fire, an inferno." He paused for a moment. "I am of Water. It is my task to extinguish the Fire." The colonel looked puzzled. "They are of Fire" the Tau motioned to the behemoths behind him. "Sometimes Water extinguishes Fire and sometimes Fire destroys Water. This is as it should be and as it is in the greater good. The Casts vie for influence and respect the outcome. Are you of Water sir?" Strauss rubbed his chin and glanced at his Executive Officer.
"I am not of water or of fire but of the will of His most benevolence. The Immortal Emperor of guides my hand. I think you come to me and talk of water because of the Fire Warriors that lay dead at the Temple of St Aspira. You talk of water when only ten blocks to the east a host of your warriors pursue a retreating column." One could hear the anger in the officer's voice.
"Indeed, I talk of Water because I am of Water. I alone can not stop the fire. I am here to give you the opportunity to step from the flames. You should abandon this city. Abandon this world." The Colonel's eyes widened. "Tell your followers to withdraw from the city. You know that a Tau armada approaches and though you may win this day or tonight or tomorrow, you can not stand against the Fire that descends on you from above. Today, in this city, we are evenly matched, evenly supplied. But once the Air arrives you will be swept aside. Take this time now to evacuate. Take your families and leave now while you can. We will let you leave~ or at least the ones who wish to."
"You called me here to suggest retreat?" the Colonel snorted in disgust. "You think we would abandon the field?" He turned on his heel and strode back to the transport, his escort backing away.
The Tau called out to the Colonel in a calm and knowing voice. "I look forward to your next broadcast Colonel. I hope you will consider my offer. A white flag should be your symbol."
Monday, January 25, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
The Dolgath Legacy part 5: Inquisitor Nelthas has arrived
Dolgath had nearly missed the arrival of Inquisitor Nelthas. He stood leaning forward, his face nearly pressed against the icy armor glass of the massive view port of his stateroom. Her ship was barely light cruiser-class, a sleek and stealthy transport of a type he had never seen before. Reverse-engineered Xenos technology, that’s what the Ordo Xenos were known for. Fast too, the arriving ship zipped into his ventral docking clamps so quickly he hardly had a chance to view it. Dagger-like, one might almost think Dark Eldar, yet it lacked the ostentatious sharp blades of the evil Eldar craft. A matt black hull like the space between stars, it had a shark-like appearance that even suggested the Tyranids, yet that was impossible…
Returning to his command chair, he eased himself down behind his huge, antique, ebony desk, an heirloom from his tutor, the legendary, Inquisitor Math. Whenever he sat behind it, Dolgath felt the weight of his old master and his unending drive for discovery. Math might very well have been better suited for the Ordo Xenos, Dolgath thought, his insatiable intellect craved mysteries, yet the ones he sought were blasphemy to the Inquisition at large. The mysteries of the warp were prescribed by their very nature to the bulk of the order, yet Math persevered in the face of constant opposition and frequent hostile antagonism from the Puritans. Math was truly ancient when Dolgath first came into his service. Over a thousand years old was the general claim whenever Dolgath asked about his master’s age. Math had trained hundreds of acolytes in his career, Dolgath had an ongoing project to track down all of Lord Math’s minions, this was clearly an extensive task, yet the one thing that he knew for certain was that he, Dolgath, was Math’s final apprentice.
Dolgath’s adjutant, Rykien, annoyingly appeared right when he was expected; only a young female in the black and crimson battle dress common to the commissariat, gave a hint that something else trailed in his wake.
“Inquisitor Nelthas has arrived. She and her retinue are being accorded our finest accommodations. Felicitations from Techmarine Tullius, fuel resources are now being shunted from the north-eastern port facilities to our troops in the all of the northern sectors. Also see Restricted Intelligence Report, codenamed: Iron Father. The Fifth Kelten Rifles have now been dispatched planet side and are engaged in entrenching positions in central New Boston,” Rykien stated flatly.
Dolgath stared at him blankly, then at the Commissar standing behind him. One of her arms was is a sling and an old bandage covered the right side of her face. In addition to that, her raven hair and piercing grey eyes demanded attention.
“Commissar…” Dolgath queried.
Both Rykien and the Commissar looked at him questioningly.
Dolgath looked pointedly at Rykien. “You are excused.”
Returning to his command chair, he eased himself down behind his huge, antique, ebony desk, an heirloom from his tutor, the legendary, Inquisitor Math. Whenever he sat behind it, Dolgath felt the weight of his old master and his unending drive for discovery. Math might very well have been better suited for the Ordo Xenos, Dolgath thought, his insatiable intellect craved mysteries, yet the ones he sought were blasphemy to the Inquisition at large. The mysteries of the warp were prescribed by their very nature to the bulk of the order, yet Math persevered in the face of constant opposition and frequent hostile antagonism from the Puritans. Math was truly ancient when Dolgath first came into his service. Over a thousand years old was the general claim whenever Dolgath asked about his master’s age. Math had trained hundreds of acolytes in his career, Dolgath had an ongoing project to track down all of Lord Math’s minions, this was clearly an extensive task, yet the one thing that he knew for certain was that he, Dolgath, was Math’s final apprentice.
Dolgath’s adjutant, Rykien, annoyingly appeared right when he was expected; only a young female in the black and crimson battle dress common to the commissariat, gave a hint that something else trailed in his wake.
“Inquisitor Nelthas has arrived. She and her retinue are being accorded our finest accommodations. Felicitations from Techmarine Tullius, fuel resources are now being shunted from the north-eastern port facilities to our troops in the all of the northern sectors. Also see Restricted Intelligence Report, codenamed: Iron Father. The Fifth Kelten Rifles have now been dispatched planet side and are engaged in entrenching positions in central New Boston,” Rykien stated flatly.
Dolgath stared at him blankly, then at the Commissar standing behind him. One of her arms was is a sling and an old bandage covered the right side of her face. In addition to that, her raven hair and piercing grey eyes demanded attention.
“Commissar…” Dolgath queried.
Both Rykien and the Commissar looked at him questioningly.
Dolgath looked pointedly at Rykien. “You are excused.”
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
The Dolgath Legacy part 4: The Last Ride of Cicero
Cicero, Chaplain of the 7th Company of the Brass Dragons legion was furious. The first marine contingent allowing the Chapel of the Emperor’s Succor to fall into xenos hands was unconscionable. He demanded to lead a second lightning assault against the Tau invaders personally. Dolgath counseled patience, his hand-picked Imperial Guard forces would soon be entrenched in defensible positions in the heart of New Boston, but the indignant Chaplain would have none of it. He spat his distain for the common human soldiers into Dolgath’s face. Dolgath had personally faced bloodthirsty daemons of the warp that were less intimidating than Cicero was at that moment. Dolgath could do naught but concede to the Chaplain’s demands. The Adeptus Astartes were the one Imperial organization over which the Inquisition held no authority. Dealing with the space marines was always a tricky proposition; tasking was perhaps too strong a word, one could request their aid, but the Legion Astartes commanders decided were, when and in what strength they would deploy – if they deployed at all.
Dolgath watched from the observation dome as Cicero and his bike squadron roared up the ramp into the hold of their drop ship. He had a suspicion that this would be the last he would see of the hot-headed Chaplain or his brave bike marines. As the drop ship fell away, Dolgath caught a brief panoramic view of the planet Cheimon spinning below them with the sun cresting red on the verge of the horizon. As the drop hatch sealed once again with an echoing clang, the launch deck of his battle cruiser was surprisingly quite and empty, the bulk of his forces having already been dispatched planet-side. He was expending valuable resources on this operation, Dolgath only hoped it would pay dividends with any future Ordos conclaves he might find himself summoned to…
Dolgath’s brooding thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of Rykien at his side. His adjutant handed him a data slate and proceeded to brief him, with his characteristic over-enthusiasm, before even allowing Dolgath to read it. “Ground intelligence has determined that the xenos gained control of the north-eastern port docking facilities without a struggle. This can only indicate insider complicity. We may now surmise that the Tau invaders have human supporters within New Boston.”
“Sylax,” grumbled Dolgath once again.
“Intelligence also indicates that the xenos will now use the port facilities to shunt fuel to their forces in the southern sectors. Tactical analysis indicates that an orbital strike on the port facilities will deny the fuel resources to the enemy,” Rykien stated.
Dolgath frowned sideways at his adjutant then pointed to the map of New Boston on the data slate. “Or, we could take control of the fuel distribution center here, thereby denying the fuel to the enemy without destroying the asset for our own use.” Dolgath shoved the data slate back into Rykien’s hands. “What we need now is someone with some good sense. Get Techmarine Tullius on the narrow-band encrypted-com and have him set up a firebase at this location.”
The only surviving witness to the last ride of Chaplain Cicero was the dreadnaught, Quintus. Even in the midst of launching his own assault against the port control facility, the remains of the 2000 year old space marine sealed into an adamantine support sarcophagus observed the charge of the bike squadron through his rear optics. With cold detachment he witnessed bike after bike brought down by the hail of xenos guns. Yet through the cloud of smoke and blood emerged Chaplain Cicero, his Crozius cracking with golden energy, single-handedly slaughtering an entire squad of xenos before being brought low by withering fire. The ancient marine recorded the event with no more feeling than registering the sudden loss of his seismic hammer from high-velocity fire as he lumbered toward the control tower. His mission, as always, was to destroy; crushing the enemy in his massive hydraulic grip was the only thing now that conferred a hint of being alive; and even that was fading with each passing century. After the battle, Quintus would ensure that the body of Chaplain Cicero was recovered for internment into his own adamantine sarcophagus.
Xenos bodies littered the ground surrounding the fortified fuel distribution center. Techmarine Tullius ignored them as he carefully sidestepped the arcing plasma discharges of the over-charged portable power generator and focused with keen interest on the smoking remains of the Tau battle suits. Their technology was intriguing, he thought. Excellent targeting systems, admirable mobility, more than adequate defensive capabilities, yet they were fragile. His conclusion was swift and certain, the underlying biological components were insufficient to match the mechanical structures. As a successor chapter to the revered Iron Hands Legion, the Brass Dragons shared some of their progenitor’s attitudes towards the flesh. Even the space marine’s fantastically enhanced physiology was considered by them to be inferior to cybernetics. This observation of the xenos technology merely confirmed it the techmarine’s augmented eyes. He would report his findings to the Iron Father.
In his luxurious stateroom aboard the Subjugator, Inquisitor Dolgath lounged in his command chair in front of the vast arched view-port basked in the ruddy sunlight reflected from the massive sphere of Cheimon below. He set aside the reports of the latest engagement and pressed the summoning key on the arm of his chair. Two curious wizened figures shuffled into the room pausing at a respectable distance awaiting Dolgath to speak. They were his sages, twins or clones he wasn’t sure which, both interconnected at the cranium by a snake’s nest of wires and cables.
“We have a conundrum, my old friends,” Dolgath said at last.
“The Tau are a mildly interesting species, yet hardly a conundrum,” the sages replied simultaneously.
Dolgath shook his head in annoyance. “Not the Tau, you silly ducks, Sylax. The xenos are merely a diversion, a tool to be used and then discarded by Sylax. Our old nemesis is here on this planet, New Boston to be specific.”
The sages looked at each other, their beady eyes brightening with the prospect of applying their combined intellect to a new puzzle. “There is something here that he wants.”
“Something old,” said one.
“Something hidden,” said the other.
“Something forgotten,” said the first.
“Something forbidden…” they both concluded.
Dolgath just smiled as he eased himself back into his chair. There was something good about being back on the hunt…
Dolgath watched from the observation dome as Cicero and his bike squadron roared up the ramp into the hold of their drop ship. He had a suspicion that this would be the last he would see of the hot-headed Chaplain or his brave bike marines. As the drop ship fell away, Dolgath caught a brief panoramic view of the planet Cheimon spinning below them with the sun cresting red on the verge of the horizon. As the drop hatch sealed once again with an echoing clang, the launch deck of his battle cruiser was surprisingly quite and empty, the bulk of his forces having already been dispatched planet-side. He was expending valuable resources on this operation, Dolgath only hoped it would pay dividends with any future Ordos conclaves he might find himself summoned to…
Dolgath’s brooding thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of Rykien at his side. His adjutant handed him a data slate and proceeded to brief him, with his characteristic over-enthusiasm, before even allowing Dolgath to read it. “Ground intelligence has determined that the xenos gained control of the north-eastern port docking facilities without a struggle. This can only indicate insider complicity. We may now surmise that the Tau invaders have human supporters within New Boston.”
“Sylax,” grumbled Dolgath once again.
“Intelligence also indicates that the xenos will now use the port facilities to shunt fuel to their forces in the southern sectors. Tactical analysis indicates that an orbital strike on the port facilities will deny the fuel resources to the enemy,” Rykien stated.
Dolgath frowned sideways at his adjutant then pointed to the map of New Boston on the data slate. “Or, we could take control of the fuel distribution center here, thereby denying the fuel to the enemy without destroying the asset for our own use.” Dolgath shoved the data slate back into Rykien’s hands. “What we need now is someone with some good sense. Get Techmarine Tullius on the narrow-band encrypted-com and have him set up a firebase at this location.”
The only surviving witness to the last ride of Chaplain Cicero was the dreadnaught, Quintus. Even in the midst of launching his own assault against the port control facility, the remains of the 2000 year old space marine sealed into an adamantine support sarcophagus observed the charge of the bike squadron through his rear optics. With cold detachment he witnessed bike after bike brought down by the hail of xenos guns. Yet through the cloud of smoke and blood emerged Chaplain Cicero, his Crozius cracking with golden energy, single-handedly slaughtering an entire squad of xenos before being brought low by withering fire. The ancient marine recorded the event with no more feeling than registering the sudden loss of his seismic hammer from high-velocity fire as he lumbered toward the control tower. His mission, as always, was to destroy; crushing the enemy in his massive hydraulic grip was the only thing now that conferred a hint of being alive; and even that was fading with each passing century. After the battle, Quintus would ensure that the body of Chaplain Cicero was recovered for internment into his own adamantine sarcophagus.
Xenos bodies littered the ground surrounding the fortified fuel distribution center. Techmarine Tullius ignored them as he carefully sidestepped the arcing plasma discharges of the over-charged portable power generator and focused with keen interest on the smoking remains of the Tau battle suits. Their technology was intriguing, he thought. Excellent targeting systems, admirable mobility, more than adequate defensive capabilities, yet they were fragile. His conclusion was swift and certain, the underlying biological components were insufficient to match the mechanical structures. As a successor chapter to the revered Iron Hands Legion, the Brass Dragons shared some of their progenitor’s attitudes towards the flesh. Even the space marine’s fantastically enhanced physiology was considered by them to be inferior to cybernetics. This observation of the xenos technology merely confirmed it the techmarine’s augmented eyes. He would report his findings to the Iron Father.
In his luxurious stateroom aboard the Subjugator, Inquisitor Dolgath lounged in his command chair in front of the vast arched view-port basked in the ruddy sunlight reflected from the massive sphere of Cheimon below. He set aside the reports of the latest engagement and pressed the summoning key on the arm of his chair. Two curious wizened figures shuffled into the room pausing at a respectable distance awaiting Dolgath to speak. They were his sages, twins or clones he wasn’t sure which, both interconnected at the cranium by a snake’s nest of wires and cables.
“We have a conundrum, my old friends,” Dolgath said at last.
“The Tau are a mildly interesting species, yet hardly a conundrum,” the sages replied simultaneously.
Dolgath shook his head in annoyance. “Not the Tau, you silly ducks, Sylax. The xenos are merely a diversion, a tool to be used and then discarded by Sylax. Our old nemesis is here on this planet, New Boston to be specific.”
The sages looked at each other, their beady eyes brightening with the prospect of applying their combined intellect to a new puzzle. “There is something here that he wants.”
“Something old,” said one.
“Something hidden,” said the other.
“Something forgotten,” said the first.
“Something forbidden…” they both concluded.
Dolgath just smiled as he eased himself back into his chair. There was something good about being back on the hunt…
Monday, January 18, 2010
The Dolgath Legacy ~ Part 3: Strange Xenos
Sylax… grumbled Dolgath. Ever the master manipulator, the Confessor had a particular talent for twisting the motivations of others and coxing them to do his dirty work unknowingly. In an attempt to thwart the Tau invasion force that Sylax had duped into assaulting this planet, Dogath had hastily tasked an Adeptus Astartes spearhead to intercept them. Strange that the xenos would choose a chapel of the Emperor as their objective, thought Dolgath. Neither the Eldar nor the Orks would have given the sacred human edifice a second thought, but these Tau, they understood the psychological impact of such things. Or perhaps that was Sylax’s doing as well…
The account of the nighttime engagement given by the senior marine survivor, Venerable Dreadnaught Proxamo, revealed the superior capabilities of the xenos elite jump-units. Early success against the Tau heavy tanks was not sufficient to deny them the objective. Astartes tactics would need to be reevaluated before the next engagement. Hopefully the space marines would hold out until his trusted Imperial Guard forces could be moved into place. Why New Boston, Dolgath pondered. Sylax, my old friend, why are you here…
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Tales of the Rancid Blade: Part Ninteen: the Emperors Succor
Anemos' jump engines subsided. The whine of the engines cooled as the turbines slowed down. They sounded almost like the moan of a animal. In the darkness of the night the cloven 'toes' of her suits' feet hit the cement as the engines lowered her to the street. The massive bulk of her suit kicked up stones, scattering into the darkness. She had landed right outside the Chapel of the Emperors Succor. A tall tower dominated the surrounding city blocks. She paused for a second looking beyond the still intact tower. To one side of the tower gouts of fire erupted from beyond her field of vision. They lit up the ruins of the surrounding buildings like a brilliant truth when told lighting a barren mind. The burning wreck of a Devilfish reminded her that the first incursion with the defenders of New Boston was not going entirely as she would have liked. She glanced to her right spotting a clumsy Imperial tank, smoke billowing from a forward exhaust port. As she had crossed the square she had blasted one of the vehicle's exhaust ports. The smoke obscured her approach and though she knew the tank was only momentarily stunned, she too the opportunity to cross the square and force the old door of the chapel. Were one looking behind her, as the large bulk of her form crossed the threshold, striding through the doorway, one might have seen the large forms of Boradside suits crouching in the ruins across the square. Their targeting lights scanning the darkness seeking a target. All about the massive forms scoop helmeted Tau warriors picked through the darkness.
All was not dark within the church. As her massive form pushed through the doorway several human figures, in different places throughout the dimly lit worship chamber, turned from various tasks. One seemed to be praying, a couple more stood by a brazier burning documents, a third at the window with a rifle. They seemed almost oblivious to the battle outside. To them she must have seemed like a monster from the Dark Age of Technology. The white of her suit, its glowing green servo lights, the accented orange of her Sept made a stunning sight. The large rotating barrel of her Cyclic Ion gun sweeping the room might have killed everyone in it had she fired. As she strode into the chamber, her large form knocking over tables and splintering worship benches, one of the several human figures approached her. The sound of an explosion outside seemed to fill the room and from one of the narrow windows a clatter of light lit the room for a moment.
The green shrouded human drew itself up to its full height and flung back its hood. The woman who stood before Anemos had white hair, features befitting one of the Emperors most faithful, and beneath her robes could be seen the armor of a warrior. Her hand was on her pistol. The woman, in her dark robe, was like a shadow against the massive form of Anemos' Crisis Suit. The two woman confronted each other, each proud, one towering over the other, the battle raging outside.
"Are you Anemos?" asked the human. She didn't wait for an answer. "I am Sister Sylvie of the Order of the Cloistered Heart." There was an urgency punctuated by the sound ofBolter fire outside. "I represent Sylax and speak in his name." Anemos's translation unit converted the speech inside the cavity of the suit. Sylvie looked up at the massive suit, its green "eye" staring down. The robot seemed to be frozen. After a moment a small tune seemed to issue from the suit. It heralded the activation of the communication. AsAnemos spoke the suit translated her speech into a faulting Imperial Gothic.
"We express appreciation to your master for disabling the security grid. He will be witness to the greater good. Where is he?" The tone sounded again as the mic turned off.
"He is absent. We have been w..." She was cut off mid sentence by another explosion. A huge crack appeared in the wall. One of the statues toppled. Sylvie ducked, gaping at the fragility of the old chapel. The speaker tone sounded from the still motionless suit.
"Bring him to the Balls Pier. We have communication ships returning to orbit at any time. The greatness of the Tau can not protect him while he roams this city." Sylvie looked about. Her patriots were still busily burning documents. 'How could Dolgath have found us again?' she thought to herself. So distant from Mordia and their old paths.
Sylvie spoke again. "We will co..." her words were cut off. Within the suit Anemos had been watching her 'heads up' display. A maze of tangled and overlapping neon and computerized screens and information displays. The sensors on her Stealth teams were being relayed to her. She had been watching Jasti and Rethlian's teams move in and out of a building beyong the chapel. A video feed was relayed straight from the stealth team. They were laying down suppressing fire at several teams of Space Marines crouched in the cover of their destroyed vehicle right outside the door. A request for assistance had flashed over her com. In a instant, and Sylvie's mid sentence, Anemos activated the engines again. The suit burst up into the air, the heat haze shimmering beneath the angelic form. The suit went from inanimate statue to a whirl of arms and legs moving. Sylvie stepped back shielding her face, her cloak storming about her. The twin plasma guns on the suit flashed with a blue light as they powered up and rotated into position. The suit rose. The Ion gun's barrels started spinning. The legs and arms of the suit moved int an aerodynamic position. As Anemos powered up she sent a message to the Pathfinders and Fire Warriors holding the green line from where she had come. "Move up and secure the chapel". And then swiftly she veered forward and smashed through a window toward the top of the room head first. The stained glass head shattered easily. Sylvie watched the glass spin down like a thousand stars through the night.
All was not dark within the church. As her massive form pushed through the doorway several human figures, in different places throughout the dimly lit worship chamber, turned from various tasks. One seemed to be praying, a couple more stood by a brazier burning documents, a third at the window with a rifle. They seemed almost oblivious to the battle outside. To them she must have seemed like a monster from the Dark Age of Technology. The white of her suit, its glowing green servo lights, the accented orange of her Sept made a stunning sight. The large rotating barrel of her Cyclic Ion gun sweeping the room might have killed everyone in it had she fired. As she strode into the chamber, her large form knocking over tables and splintering worship benches, one of the several human figures approached her. The sound of an explosion outside seemed to fill the room and from one of the narrow windows a clatter of light lit the room for a moment.
The green shrouded human drew itself up to its full height and flung back its hood. The woman who stood before Anemos had white hair, features befitting one of the Emperors most faithful, and beneath her robes could be seen the armor of a warrior. Her hand was on her pistol. The woman, in her dark robe, was like a shadow against the massive form of Anemos' Crisis Suit. The two woman confronted each other, each proud, one towering over the other, the battle raging outside.
"Are you Anemos?" asked the human. She didn't wait for an answer. "I am Sister Sylvie of the Order of the Cloistered Heart." There was an urgency punctuated by the sound ofBolter fire outside. "I represent Sylax and speak in his name." Anemos's translation unit converted the speech inside the cavity of the suit. Sylvie looked up at the massive suit, its green "eye" staring down. The robot seemed to be frozen. After a moment a small tune seemed to issue from the suit. It heralded the activation of the communication. AsAnemos spoke the suit translated her speech into a faulting Imperial Gothic.
"We express appreciation to your master for disabling the security grid. He will be witness to the greater good. Where is he?" The tone sounded again as the mic turned off.
"He is absent. We have been w..." She was cut off mid sentence by another explosion. A huge crack appeared in the wall. One of the statues toppled. Sylvie ducked, gaping at the fragility of the old chapel. The speaker tone sounded from the still motionless suit.
"Bring him to the Balls Pier. We have communication ships returning to orbit at any time. The greatness of the Tau can not protect him while he roams this city." Sylvie looked about. Her patriots were still busily burning documents. 'How could Dolgath have found us again?' she thought to herself. So distant from Mordia and their old paths.
Sylvie spoke again. "We will co..." her words were cut off. Within the suit Anemos had been watching her 'heads up' display. A maze of tangled and overlapping neon and computerized screens and information displays. The sensors on her Stealth teams were being relayed to her. She had been watching Jasti and Rethlian's teams move in and out of a building beyong the chapel. A video feed was relayed straight from the stealth team. They were laying down suppressing fire at several teams of Space Marines crouched in the cover of their destroyed vehicle right outside the door. A request for assistance had flashed over her com. In a instant, and Sylvie's mid sentence, Anemos activated the engines again. The suit burst up into the air, the heat haze shimmering beneath the angelic form. The suit went from inanimate statue to a whirl of arms and legs moving. Sylvie stepped back shielding her face, her cloak storming about her. The twin plasma guns on the suit flashed with a blue light as they powered up and rotated into position. The suit rose. The Ion gun's barrels started spinning. The legs and arms of the suit moved int an aerodynamic position. As Anemos powered up she sent a message to the Pathfinders and Fire Warriors holding the green line from where she had come. "Move up and secure the chapel". And then swiftly she veered forward and smashed through a window toward the top of the room head first. The stained glass head shattered easily. Sylvie watched the glass spin down like a thousand stars through the night.
Saturday, January 02, 2010
Tales of the Rancid Blade: Part Eighteen: Do not fear me my daughter
Sylvie could remember it clearly. It was so long ago. So many years now. At the time, when she had awoken that morning, she never perceived that her life would change so much that day. There were so many days that she could have marked as the one that charted her new life. It could have been the day she fled her cloistered home with Yanaloo. Or perhaps it could have been the day she succumbed to the Dark Eldar's guile. Perhaps the day she made a pact with the master of this shanty town, Ozzymandus. But the day she began her path back to the Inquisition, that day in the heart of the underhive, the day that she began her aprentiship, began with Sylax.
She had lived in the slums of Modia Prime's spires for years now. She had fled with her lover, was cursed by her sisters, and pursued by her old mentors. As they walked past the old agitator mills, deep in the hive slums, on that day, about a half a mile from their hole, Yanaloo had noticed it first. Her dark eldar eyes saw the flash of gun metal first and like a cat sensing trouble she paused. Yanaloo wore a hooded robe to conceal her elvish features and pale skin. As soon as she sensed trouble her hood came off revealing her sickly beauty, dark coarse hair, and black eyes. Tattoos. She was looking up toward one of the towers alongside the mills. She could sense their stalker hiding in the tower above. Sylvie looked toward the tower also but was unable to see anything. A gunshot rang out from far above but the bullet was too slow for the wytch. Yanaloo deftly moved and with a strong arm nestled Sylvie out of the way of the incoming shot. The snipers bullet passed by. It kicked up dirt some distance from them.
They were both running, firing in to the darkness of the night city. Other shots rang out from the darkness as their hidden pursuer's cross hairs followed them. They took shelter between several pillars that held a combine tank above them. The shots fell silent. Sylvie's breathing came hard.
"I don't understand, we're deep in Ozzymandus' territory, we're protected here" she cast the words from her mouth as she drew breath.
"It seems the tretchery of the gangs is more pliable than we relied on." The dark wytch spoke, not appearing to be engaged by the labor of their flight at all. "Perhaps your Nurse has returned to claim you once again."
"Perhaps". Sylvie stole a look beyond the pylons that sheltered them. A shot rang out and she retreated. She cast her gaze about frantically. "Who else would send an assassin to us".
"There are many I can imagine, many foes walk this city" said the elf. As she spoke the two were startled to see a figure appear from the darkness within the same cover that sheltered them. Both women raised their stubguns but the figure spoke before they could fire them.
"Do not fear my children" the voice was old, yet familiar. "Yanaloo, Sylvie, you both a precious to me".
"Then state your name, who is it that hunts us today?" Sylvie asked. As the old man approached his bearded and deep lined face came into view. His silvery eyes inspected them. He wore a simple blue cloak and carried nothing save a simple walking stick.
"I am Sylax, a friend to both of you." he paused. "Yanaloo, I first met you deep in the goblin pits when you were cast low. I saved you and consoled you." The dark girls eyes cast a look of remembrance.
"I remember you Confessor. I remember you pulled me from the goblin pits." Yanaloo Snarled recalling the utter defeat of that day.
Sylax then continued her sentence. "All true. And you will recall that I took you to my cloistered sisters far out in the wastes of Mordian. There, as you know, you met Sylvie and the both of you cast away in rebellion. Cast away to the great city here. You must know that the great Archon Actev Nu cast you down. He thrown you out of his halls. Made you fight goblins for sport. It has been long since you carried the title of Succubi and walked the great arenas of Commoragh".
"It is true" she replied in hateful pitiful sorry.
"And you Sylvie, do you really believe that Ozzymandus gives you protection here because his eye favors you. No. It is I who hold back your pursuers. It is I who has given you the freedom to walk these shanty towns and grim cities." Sylvie's eyes became hard. She had known much of preachers and confessors and feared a return to the convent and the penance of the Nurse.
"If your words are true then who hunts us now? Who fires at us now?"
"Your pursuer works for one who is beyond my power to control. There are those that seek to unravel my plans and know your part in my designs more than yourselves". The confessor cast an eye toward the waiting assassin.
"Actev Nu?" gasped Yanaloo.
"No. The great Archon cares nothing for me and my designs. All our debts are settled. Though he has given me this key." The Confessor held out what appeared to be thin branches of a tree. Not more than twigs between his fingers. Three small silver buds held fast to the twigs. The Confessor broke one of the buds from the branch and cast it to the ground, muttering beneath his beard. The bud hit the stones and broke into petals that seemed to grow and swirl about. The petals grew and spun as if blown by a wind. Their color becoming a full white from budding green. As they swirled they revealed a magical stair down into the darkness. "The Actev Nu has taught me the ways through the webway. And when the mood strikes him or it suits his purposes he gives me the keys. Now, be quick, the agent that fires upon you will not wait long, he will swiftly descend to complete his grim assignment at close quarters." Without a hesitation Yanaloo lept from the shadows into the magical passageway that the petals had formed. Sylvie looked into the eyes of the Confessor with suspicion. "Do not fear me my daughter, for you sprung from my loins and while you breath I shall protect you with all the devices I have."
Sylvie's eyes widened and she swallowed her hesitation and entered into the gate.
"I don't understand, we're deep in Ozzymandus' territory, we're protected here" she cast the words from her mouth as she drew breath.
"It seems the tretchery of the gangs is more pliable than we relied on." The dark wytch spoke, not appearing to be engaged by the labor of their flight at all. "Perhaps your Nurse has returned to claim you once again."
"Perhaps". Sylvie stole a look beyond the pylons that sheltered them. A shot rang out and she retreated. She cast her gaze about frantically. "Who else would send an assassin to us".
"There are many I can imagine, many foes walk this city" said the elf. As she spoke the two were startled to see a figure appear from the darkness within the same cover that sheltered them. Both women raised their stubguns but the figure spoke before they could fire them.
"Do not fear my children" the voice was old, yet familiar. "Yanaloo, Sylvie, you both a precious to me".
"Then state your name, who is it that hunts us today?" Sylvie asked. As the old man approached his bearded and deep lined face came into view. His silvery eyes inspected them. He wore a simple blue cloak and carried nothing save a simple walking stick.
"I am Sylax, a friend to both of you." he paused. "Yanaloo, I first met you deep in the goblin pits when you were cast low. I saved you and consoled you." The dark girls eyes cast a look of remembrance.
"I remember you Confessor. I remember you pulled me from the goblin pits." Yanaloo Snarled recalling the utter defeat of that day.
Sylax then continued her sentence. "All true. And you will recall that I took you to my cloistered sisters far out in the wastes of Mordian. There, as you know, you met Sylvie and the both of you cast away in rebellion. Cast away to the great city here. You must know that the great Archon Actev Nu cast you down. He thrown you out of his halls. Made you fight goblins for sport. It has been long since you carried the title of Succubi and walked the great arenas of Commoragh".
"It is true" she replied in hateful pitiful sorry.
"And you Sylvie, do you really believe that Ozzymandus gives you protection here because his eye favors you. No. It is I who hold back your pursuers. It is I who has given you the freedom to walk these shanty towns and grim cities." Sylvie's eyes became hard. She had known much of preachers and confessors and feared a return to the convent and the penance of the Nurse.
"If your words are true then who hunts us now? Who fires at us now?"
"Your pursuer works for one who is beyond my power to control. There are those that seek to unravel my plans and know your part in my designs more than yourselves". The confessor cast an eye toward the waiting assassin.
"Actev Nu?" gasped Yanaloo.
"No. The great Archon cares nothing for me and my designs. All our debts are settled. Though he has given me this key." The Confessor held out what appeared to be thin branches of a tree. Not more than twigs between his fingers. Three small silver buds held fast to the twigs. The Confessor broke one of the buds from the branch and cast it to the ground, muttering beneath his beard. The bud hit the stones and broke into petals that seemed to grow and swirl about. The petals grew and spun as if blown by a wind. Their color becoming a full white from budding green. As they swirled they revealed a magical stair down into the darkness. "The Actev Nu has taught me the ways through the webway. And when the mood strikes him or it suits his purposes he gives me the keys. Now, be quick, the agent that fires upon you will not wait long, he will swiftly descend to complete his grim assignment at close quarters." Without a hesitation Yanaloo lept from the shadows into the magical passageway that the petals had formed. Sylvie looked into the eyes of the Confessor with suspicion. "Do not fear me my daughter, for you sprung from my loins and while you breath I shall protect you with all the devices I have."
Sylvie's eyes widened and she swallowed her hesitation and entered into the gate.
The Dolgath Legacy ~ Part 2: An unforeseen appearance
The message delivered by the Vindicare assassin was as unexpected as his unforeseen appearance at Dolgath’s home base on the remote death world of Octalloron. Rather than a warrant of Excommunicatus as he was anticipating, the messenger bore an urgent formal Inquisition request for his services in thwarting a xenos incursion in a nearby sector. It seems the Ordo Xenos was caught unprepared with little to no resources in the region. Dolgath was a Daemonhunter and had little interest in matters Xenos, yet the fact that they had contacted him showed how desperate they were. And more telling, the fact that they had been aware of his location, but had made no attempt to apprehend or otherwise contact him over the years, he found perplexing. Either they had considered him too great a threat to confront, or too irrelevant to bother with…
In any case, Dolgath recognized an opportunity when he saw it. Solving the Ordo Xenos’ urgent problem would earn him dividends with the Inquisition in the long run. His contact would be Lord Nelthas, an Ordo Xenos Inquisitor he knew by reputation only; smart but unimaginative – as most of the Ordo Xenos tended to be. Thus Dolgath gave the order. His ship, the Subjugator, a converted Mars Class battle cruiser, which had been in hiding riding in antipode lunar orbit for the better part of twenty years, its systems and crew in hibernation mode, suddenly awoke.
It would take the Subjugator several weeks for its systems and crew to come fully on line. In the mean time, Dolgath turned his attention to his new objective. Two kilometers below the surface of Octalloron in the hidden inner sanctum of the temple of Arcana, Dolgath gathered his henchmen and turned his attention to the problem at hand. Rykien, his adjutant, had the Imperial data base on the Tau displayed on the central pictscreen. The Ordo Xenos classified them as an unenlightened, upstart race, yet they clearly possessed superior technological capabilities in several areas. Dolgath seldom made the mistake of underestimating his enemies. Despite their psychically dead status the Tau were never-the-less an interesting opponent. All sentient races were known to posses some latent psychic potential, this Dolgath knew, a race completely lacking in psychic potential suggested one thing – interference. Yet Dolgath needed more. After a moment of apprehension, he slotted his Rosarius into the cogitator and sent his coded access request to the Inquisition’s restricted data core…
The Cheimon Sphere Expansion, that’s what his new adversaries named it. Massitonia was the proper Imperial name for the region centered on the planet Trachis first settled in the great age of expansion, but since fallen into obscurity as a remote, unimportant outpost at the edge of Imperial space. Strange that it all of a sudden became a planet of importance to the Ordo Xenos, thought Dolgath. Stranger still that this planet was flagged in his own personal database as a planet marked as a possible location keyed to his old nemesis, Confessor Sylax. Two birds with one stone… Dolgath sent a second order: all Imperial forces at his command were designated to full combat status.
Objective: Cheimon Sector, Planet Trachis, New Boston.
In any case, Dolgath recognized an opportunity when he saw it. Solving the Ordo Xenos’ urgent problem would earn him dividends with the Inquisition in the long run. His contact would be Lord Nelthas, an Ordo Xenos Inquisitor he knew by reputation only; smart but unimaginative – as most of the Ordo Xenos tended to be. Thus Dolgath gave the order. His ship, the Subjugator, a converted Mars Class battle cruiser, which had been in hiding riding in antipode lunar orbit for the better part of twenty years, its systems and crew in hibernation mode, suddenly awoke.
It would take the Subjugator several weeks for its systems and crew to come fully on line. In the mean time, Dolgath turned his attention to his new objective. Two kilometers below the surface of Octalloron in the hidden inner sanctum of the temple of Arcana, Dolgath gathered his henchmen and turned his attention to the problem at hand. Rykien, his adjutant, had the Imperial data base on the Tau displayed on the central pictscreen. The Ordo Xenos classified them as an unenlightened, upstart race, yet they clearly possessed superior technological capabilities in several areas. Dolgath seldom made the mistake of underestimating his enemies. Despite their psychically dead status the Tau were never-the-less an interesting opponent. All sentient races were known to posses some latent psychic potential, this Dolgath knew, a race completely lacking in psychic potential suggested one thing – interference. Yet Dolgath needed more. After a moment of apprehension, he slotted his Rosarius into the cogitator and sent his coded access request to the Inquisition’s restricted data core…
The Cheimon Sphere Expansion, that’s what his new adversaries named it. Massitonia was the proper Imperial name for the region centered on the planet Trachis first settled in the great age of expansion, but since fallen into obscurity as a remote, unimportant outpost at the edge of Imperial space. Strange that it all of a sudden became a planet of importance to the Ordo Xenos, thought Dolgath. Stranger still that this planet was flagged in his own personal database as a planet marked as a possible location keyed to his old nemesis, Confessor Sylax. Two birds with one stone… Dolgath sent a second order: all Imperial forces at his command were designated to full combat status.
Objective: Cheimon Sector, Planet Trachis, New Boston.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)