Sunday, February 28, 2010
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Tales of the Rancid Blade: Part 23: Whatever walks from that door will consume and destroy us all
The five of them met in the silence of the lonesome tower. Where once there had been the raucous sound of battle there was now the lonesome sound of the dead. This room had been the fulcrum of yet another in a long line of skirmishes throughout this city. The Marines had fought to control this tower and it had seemed as they might hold it. But they had been driven back. Many bodies of their brothers were left, abandoned to the only residents of this city that befitted from the war, the rats. The room was old, as was the tower. It had been built when the city was young, one of the first watch towers of this city. The city had long ago out grown this tower, its wards and environs growing far beyond the benefit its observations might provide. Before this war it had been used to store municipal equipment~ traffic signs, cones, temporary idolatry bollards. Now, its stones were washed with blood illuminated by the light of the early morning outside. The five conspirators of the doom of New Boston were now gathered. Obris was an imposing Tau warrior, even without his Crisis suit. He was joined by his common companion, Maturm, a Water Caste Tau of slight frame. Maturm carried his pulse carbine, hoisted on his hip. Anemos joined them also, her suit outside, she now wore a formal uniform with her long brades hanging down to her waist and the patterns of rank on her shoulder. The two humans had arranged the meeting location and seemed most at ease. A tall muscular woman in a dark blue robe stood behind the form of an old man. His green robes obscured mysterious icons and jewery, they hung about his neck or from his wrists or seemed to peer from the folds in his robes. He was Confessor Sylax. Anemos confronted him.
"We meet, finally, I have sought this parley for several days and now that victory is at hand you summon us? Where have you been?" Her voice, translated through a logistics drone floating nearby, sounded angular and strange. Sylax could sense the anger. Anemos was the leader of a massive Tau invasion force which was poised only hours away from the planet. He could sense that she felt she was due some respect.
"Do not be concerned with my comings and goings. I have little influence here compared to the mighty breath of cleansing flame that you have issued onto this world" the old man said. "I thank you all for the solace you have given me. I thank you for the protection".
"And we thank you for the information you have given us" Maturm reported. "Though some may not recognise it..." he glanced at Anemos "it is appreciated". Anemos did appreciate it, she just wasn't eager to show her veins to this alien. She quietly snarled her disapproval of the Water. Her eyes recognised his remark by tilting his way. She said nothing to validate his comment.
Sylax did respond "I appreciate your words. The reason I brought you to this tower is three fold. I have moved among the enemy. I ministered to the men, I have consoled the loyal. All through the city they retreat. They a despondant. They are fearful. However, there is but one place where they push your lines back. One place where you retreat". Anemos looked to Obris with a knowing glance. "At the docks the Imperials fall back, on the Seventh Ward they fall back, and now..." He pointed toward the window, Bolson Common below "the commons are clear. However, at the Eighth and Ninth wards the enemy has advanced unmolested. You have no forces to turn them aside."
"We advance on three fronts and they will be cut off" Obris stated in hatered of the human, "That column can not survive alone".
"Indeed" Sylax said nodding "But I bring news to you now. The Imperials in the Eighth ward of the city are amassing a large force, bringing the remnances of all their armies together for a last break out attempt. They wish to confront you with their full and last strength".
"They are desperate. This isn't a break out". Obis retorted. "It's a final stand" .
"That may be" said Maturm "but the Narcat's last strike is often his most ferice. What numbers do they poses?"
"I can not say, but they also have been resupplied from the Halvat Machine Houses on the north shore of the city. Their engines of war will be mighty."
"Do we have time to redeploy to confront this force?" Anemos turned to Obis, her second in command.
"Probably not, and even if we did, it may not be enough. If that machine shops on the north shore are repaired it will be a tremendous force".
"I have a solution" Sylax said quietly as the Tau recognised the situation. They turned to the old man. He walked to the old brick wall of the tower speaking as he walked "Two hundred and fifty years ago I helped build this tower. Two hundred and fifty years ago I laid into this wall the seeds for my return to mighty times. Today those times have come." He took from his robes a small silver arrowhead and began scratching against a strange colored brick. As he scratched the shades of stone that were chipped away fell but seemed to sparkle with an unnatural light. As he scratched the light seemed to spread through the tower wall like unnatural cracks. "This tower is built from old stones. Older than this world. Older than the stars. Older than you and I and our races. This tower was built with stones from Commoragh". The etching of his arrowhead seemed to break apart the wall and the bricks. Not by cracks in the masonry but by dark cracks in the walls of the world, of the universe. The Tau looked in horror as a mighty gateway appeared in the wall. They saw somthing open, something older and possessed with more bitterness than all the energy in their new empire. The walls seemed to reform themselves, twisted statues formed on either side of the door, of Eldredge shapes, their eyes covered in dark masks.
"It is a portal to the festering realm" spoke Obolis. "It is a realm of horror and evil and night. Whatever walks from that door will consume and destroy us all". The Tau were agape. However, their horror turned to awe when they saw what walked from the portal.
"We meet, finally, I have sought this parley for several days and now that victory is at hand you summon us? Where have you been?" Her voice, translated through a logistics drone floating nearby, sounded angular and strange. Sylax could sense the anger. Anemos was the leader of a massive Tau invasion force which was poised only hours away from the planet. He could sense that she felt she was due some respect.
"Do not be concerned with my comings and goings. I have little influence here compared to the mighty breath of cleansing flame that you have issued onto this world" the old man said. "I thank you all for the solace you have given me. I thank you for the protection".
"And we thank you for the information you have given us" Maturm reported. "Though some may not recognise it..." he glanced at Anemos "it is appreciated". Anemos did appreciate it, she just wasn't eager to show her veins to this alien. She quietly snarled her disapproval of the Water. Her eyes recognised his remark by tilting his way. She said nothing to validate his comment.
Sylax did respond "I appreciate your words. The reason I brought you to this tower is three fold. I have moved among the enemy. I ministered to the men, I have consoled the loyal. All through the city they retreat. They a despondant. They are fearful. However, there is but one place where they push your lines back. One place where you retreat". Anemos looked to Obris with a knowing glance. "At the docks the Imperials fall back, on the Seventh Ward they fall back, and now..." He pointed toward the window, Bolson Common below "the commons are clear. However, at the Eighth and Ninth wards the enemy has advanced unmolested. You have no forces to turn them aside."
"We advance on three fronts and they will be cut off" Obris stated in hatered of the human, "That column can not survive alone".
"Indeed" Sylax said nodding "But I bring news to you now. The Imperials in the Eighth ward of the city are amassing a large force, bringing the remnances of all their armies together for a last break out attempt. They wish to confront you with their full and last strength".
"They are desperate. This isn't a break out". Obis retorted. "It's a final stand" .
"That may be" said Maturm "but the Narcat's last strike is often his most ferice. What numbers do they poses?"
"I can not say, but they also have been resupplied from the Halvat Machine Houses on the north shore of the city. Their engines of war will be mighty."
"Do we have time to redeploy to confront this force?" Anemos turned to Obis, her second in command.
"Probably not, and even if we did, it may not be enough. If that machine shops on the north shore are repaired it will be a tremendous force".
"I have a solution" Sylax said quietly as the Tau recognised the situation. They turned to the old man. He walked to the old brick wall of the tower speaking as he walked "Two hundred and fifty years ago I helped build this tower. Two hundred and fifty years ago I laid into this wall the seeds for my return to mighty times. Today those times have come." He took from his robes a small silver arrowhead and began scratching against a strange colored brick. As he scratched the shades of stone that were chipped away fell but seemed to sparkle with an unnatural light. As he scratched the light seemed to spread through the tower wall like unnatural cracks. "This tower is built from old stones. Older than this world. Older than the stars. Older than you and I and our races. This tower was built with stones from Commoragh". The etching of his arrowhead seemed to break apart the wall and the bricks. Not by cracks in the masonry but by dark cracks in the walls of the world, of the universe. The Tau looked in horror as a mighty gateway appeared in the wall. They saw somthing open, something older and possessed with more bitterness than all the energy in their new empire. The walls seemed to reform themselves, twisted statues formed on either side of the door, of Eldredge shapes, their eyes covered in dark masks.
"It is a portal to the festering realm" spoke Obolis. "It is a realm of horror and evil and night. Whatever walks from that door will consume and destroy us all". The Tau were agape. However, their horror turned to awe when they saw what walked from the portal.
Tales of the Rancid Blade: Part 22: a fury rarely seen
She watched it in slow motion. The view cams on her robotic armored suit had captured the entire event and it had been a massacre. After the battle, when the sun had risen, she had rewound and watched it several times, slowing it down. There was no good in this. No greater good. No long term benevolence to be found here. To see warriors, any warriors, cut down like that was a horror. Humans were a lost people and they fought for a lost and wasted empire, and they didn't even know it, but even these people didn't deserve this kind of slaughter levied against them.
She recalled that the drop pod had landed with a suddenness that had surprised her. It had appeared out of the night sky like a fireball from the heaven. Her memory saw the screech of engines and the impact. She was well used to the Marines sending this kind of distraction behind her main firing line. A strategy to throw off the Fire Warriors. But this one had been a surprise because the massive armored beast that had come from within the pod had come directly for her. It had ignored the lightly armored warriors. A massive robot, an entombed parody of itself, had lunged from the rapid deployment vehicle. It's massive flame thrower spewing gouts of liquid fire toward her. The warning alarms sounded in her head as she and her bodyguard pulled from the flames, their jet packs taking them above the beast of a machine. Their protection drone absorbed the flame into its shield, overloaded and exploded. She pitched into the sky and the tower of flame moved to follow her. The smoke from the flame trailed from her suit as she arched upward. She moved through the dark sky returning toward the walker below. However, as she decended she saw that this new strategy had not fully played out. Above her more more units were descending. She tapped orders on her console for all forces to converge on her position. She reassigned all available units. Returning toward the earth she saw the crackle of a teleport event. The air riped apart and the huge forms of heavily armoured marines began to appear. Blue fire seemed to surround them. And as they appeared they began firing. The forms from above quickly reached the ground. More of her enemies with jet packs. As they dropped their weapons began sounding also. She turned toward her body guard and saw that he was readying his plasma rifle. And she did the same.
The Tau pulse rifle fires a solid rod of adamantuim along a charged rail. The charge forces the rods to reach sub atomic speeds as they move along the rail. The speed of the rods when they leave the barrel is such that can punch through most armor with ease. There are few barriers that oppose might of the larger rail guns. The many marines had begun firing before they hit the ground, however, within moments, virtually all her Fire Warriors had heeded her redeployment call, deploying from Devilfsh gunships, they were returning fire with a fury rarely seen. Rank upon rank of pulse rifle fire slew into the Marines, the rods punching through their armor like egg shells or scattering across the cracked pavement. The sound of the rods clattering to the pavement sounded like unbroken bottles bouncing on the ground. The marines were clustered about the large drop pod and their only cover was the flesh of their battle brothers. She watched as the cavalcade of fire tore into the Marines. One shot hit the jet pack an assault marines. One of the jets exploded, the other jet, now unbalanced launched the Marine in a tight arch headlong into the side of the drop pod. She watched another shot slice through two Marines who stood beside each other. They both slumped sideways, dead but still standing. They lent against each other in a grim embrace their brothers falling all around. The large form of a Devilfish caught her attention. It floated just behind a band of warriors, moving sideways. Its nose mounted Burst Cannon fired a rapid stream of slugs at the Marines. The hail of fire was brutal and cold and in the watching of it she regretted it.
The moments it had taken to slaughter the marines had seemed like an age to her. She watched the last of them back toward the pod. A slug hit him under his jaw and the Marine dropped after the back of his head hit the side of the pod. She directed her Fire Warriors to resume the advance shedding her cares for her foes. She archived the video file and uploaded the battle recording to her off site logistics drone. It was not often that she agreed with her Water kin but in this case she did. These humans should have abandoned the city days ago.
She recalled that the drop pod had landed with a suddenness that had surprised her. It had appeared out of the night sky like a fireball from the heaven. Her memory saw the screech of engines and the impact. She was well used to the Marines sending this kind of distraction behind her main firing line. A strategy to throw off the Fire Warriors. But this one had been a surprise because the massive armored beast that had come from within the pod had come directly for her. It had ignored the lightly armored warriors. A massive robot, an entombed parody of itself, had lunged from the rapid deployment vehicle. It's massive flame thrower spewing gouts of liquid fire toward her. The warning alarms sounded in her head as she and her bodyguard pulled from the flames, their jet packs taking them above the beast of a machine. Their protection drone absorbed the flame into its shield, overloaded and exploded. She pitched into the sky and the tower of flame moved to follow her. The smoke from the flame trailed from her suit as she arched upward. She moved through the dark sky returning toward the walker below. However, as she decended she saw that this new strategy had not fully played out. Above her more more units were descending. She tapped orders on her console for all forces to converge on her position. She reassigned all available units. Returning toward the earth she saw the crackle of a teleport event. The air riped apart and the huge forms of heavily armoured marines began to appear. Blue fire seemed to surround them. And as they appeared they began firing. The forms from above quickly reached the ground. More of her enemies with jet packs. As they dropped their weapons began sounding also. She turned toward her body guard and saw that he was readying his plasma rifle. And she did the same.
The Tau pulse rifle fires a solid rod of adamantuim along a charged rail. The charge forces the rods to reach sub atomic speeds as they move along the rail. The speed of the rods when they leave the barrel is such that can punch through most armor with ease. There are few barriers that oppose might of the larger rail guns. The many marines had begun firing before they hit the ground, however, within moments, virtually all her Fire Warriors had heeded her redeployment call, deploying from Devilfsh gunships, they were returning fire with a fury rarely seen. Rank upon rank of pulse rifle fire slew into the Marines, the rods punching through their armor like egg shells or scattering across the cracked pavement. The sound of the rods clattering to the pavement sounded like unbroken bottles bouncing on the ground. The marines were clustered about the large drop pod and their only cover was the flesh of their battle brothers. She watched as the cavalcade of fire tore into the Marines. One shot hit the jet pack an assault marines. One of the jets exploded, the other jet, now unbalanced launched the Marine in a tight arch headlong into the side of the drop pod. She watched another shot slice through two Marines who stood beside each other. They both slumped sideways, dead but still standing. They lent against each other in a grim embrace their brothers falling all around. The large form of a Devilfish caught her attention. It floated just behind a band of warriors, moving sideways. Its nose mounted Burst Cannon fired a rapid stream of slugs at the Marines. The hail of fire was brutal and cold and in the watching of it she regretted it.
The moments it had taken to slaughter the marines had seemed like an age to her. She watched the last of them back toward the pod. A slug hit him under his jaw and the Marine dropped after the back of his head hit the side of the pod. She directed her Fire Warriors to resume the advance shedding her cares for her foes. She archived the video file and uploaded the battle recording to her off site logistics drone. It was not often that she agreed with her Water kin but in this case she did. These humans should have abandoned the city days ago.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Tales of the Rancid Blade: Part 21: A knife fight in the dark
In an urban combat environment any basement or bombed out lobby can become a command center. Partially collapsed buildings transform to become barricades and churches become medical centers. Everything is in flux and everything is in transit as the liquid of battle redrafts the landscape. Armies make their will upon the remains of what once was a city. Obris had made the burnt out remains of a kitchen his temporary command post about six hours ago. Large tables were arranged about the room. They once had been used to prepair the most lavish dishes and now they were covered in the ingrediance to prepair for war. Vid screens and data lines were strewn about and the occasonal ladel that had'nt been cast aside gave the appearance of a kitchen still in use. Groups of Firewarriors were moving about the room checking information that came in through dataports and making sure the information was conveyed correctly. A sync drone hovered above all the screens and monitors coordinating a the stream of information and acting as a mobile field computer. Thin holo sheens also hung down from the base of the drone like tenrils on a mechanical jellyfish projecing reports from the field. Parts of the strange floating object glowed like phosperessence. A couple of Fire Warriors were working on establishing a backup sync drone.
Obris watched on the screen the advance of a large force of human soldiers. Mostly on foot, the human column approached his position moving from building to building. Several walkers and mobile artillery peices supported the column of soldiers. The images and movement came from a team of Pathfinders. They were hidden in the the ruins about ten blocks away. They had been advancing ahead of his main column to detect this very thing. He turned as one of his friends walked in. The Tau that approached was much smaller than Obris. Even without Obris' Crisis Suit, Maturim, the approaching Tau, was small. He was a member of the Tau Water Caste and so he stood almost a head smaller, and much more slight in frame, than the bulk of any from the Fire Caste. Obris made sure that in every Pathfinder team he worked with as assigned a member of the Water Caste. While they couldn't shoot for shit the Water Caste's skill in cunning and manipulation was renound. He wanted smart Pathfinders, not just scouts. Maturm was this but was also his friend. They greeted eachother with a traditional head bow. Though they could never be bonded by rite, and though many frownded on the kinship, their friendship was great. It was forged from dozens of battles and long hours spent on either side of a Ness games in transit to war zones.
"The human column is moving into the last of the unoccupied parts of the city. By nightfall they will be within striking distance." said the small figure as they both turned to the screen.
"I don't enjoy the prospect of hitting them in the dark. I would prefer a straight up fight" said Obris.
"I don't doubt it my friend, but their eyes see the darkness too. We will each be at an equal disadvantage".
"Small comfort" Obris grimmased. He touched an icon on the screen, directing his Crisis Suits to take to the air. The sound of their jets starting up could be herd from beyond the door. "These hab blocks will be our objective I think. It'll be a ground game, take as many buildings as possible and force them back" He paused, considering the screen. "Building by building."
Maturm nodded "My preference is a knife fight in the dark".
"With only one knife~ in your hand" Obris chimed in turnning with a grin toward his cunning friend.
"All the better". They were quiet again watching the humans pick their way along the streets. The video feed looked grainey as the last of the light left the sky and the night vison feature kicked in.
"Take your team to this location" he pointed to a map on a secondary screen. "I'm going to lead the main advance, along here" he moved his finger along the screen. "If we can capture this, we should be able to halt their advance." They were distracted for a moment as the second drone came online, it whirled out of the hands of the Fire Warrior who had been working on it, lights flickering on. Obris snapped orders to the warriors in the room "Get this cleaned up. Send the drones to secure location 72A and get to your transports, we'll be in grips with the Imperials within the hour". The warriors started disconnecting the drones and gathering their gear. Obris nodded to his friend as they both started toward the door. Obris' suit stood ready outside. The Fire Warriors abandoned most of the gear, they took the drones but left all the cables and screens. From here they would have to rely on the two sync drones exclusively.
In the street outside darkness had fallen and the broken shapes of the surrounding city began to loom in the darkness like horrible husks. The occasional flash from a distant battle could be seen, quickly followed by the rumble of a far off explosion. The warriors paid no heed. Several Devilfish transports were either preparing for lift off or pulling away from the ground like large flying beetles lifting from the ground. Obris turned to his suit, the font open, ready to recieve him. As he approached the suit, sencing him, crouched down and extended its arm. He pulled himself up and the suit automatically began to close.
Maturim called from the ground "Keep your head down". Obris didn't respond but instread fixed a confident and stern eye on his friend as the suit sealed itself. Maturn turned toward the rest of his team. The four of them, lightly armed, began jogging off together in a seemingly opposite direction than the rest of the force. Their forms melting into the night. Maturm flicked on his marker light. Its green light shot like a knife into the dark night.
Obris watched on the screen the advance of a large force of human soldiers. Mostly on foot, the human column approached his position moving from building to building. Several walkers and mobile artillery peices supported the column of soldiers. The images and movement came from a team of Pathfinders. They were hidden in the the ruins about ten blocks away. They had been advancing ahead of his main column to detect this very thing. He turned as one of his friends walked in. The Tau that approached was much smaller than Obris. Even without Obris' Crisis Suit, Maturim, the approaching Tau, was small. He was a member of the Tau Water Caste and so he stood almost a head smaller, and much more slight in frame, than the bulk of any from the Fire Caste. Obris made sure that in every Pathfinder team he worked with as assigned a member of the Water Caste. While they couldn't shoot for shit the Water Caste's skill in cunning and manipulation was renound. He wanted smart Pathfinders, not just scouts. Maturm was this but was also his friend. They greeted eachother with a traditional head bow. Though they could never be bonded by rite, and though many frownded on the kinship, their friendship was great. It was forged from dozens of battles and long hours spent on either side of a Ness games in transit to war zones.
"The human column is moving into the last of the unoccupied parts of the city. By nightfall they will be within striking distance." said the small figure as they both turned to the screen.
"I don't enjoy the prospect of hitting them in the dark. I would prefer a straight up fight" said Obris.
"I don't doubt it my friend, but their eyes see the darkness too. We will each be at an equal disadvantage".
"Small comfort" Obris grimmased. He touched an icon on the screen, directing his Crisis Suits to take to the air. The sound of their jets starting up could be herd from beyond the door. "These hab blocks will be our objective I think. It'll be a ground game, take as many buildings as possible and force them back" He paused, considering the screen. "Building by building."
Maturm nodded "My preference is a knife fight in the dark".
"With only one knife~ in your hand" Obris chimed in turnning with a grin toward his cunning friend.
"All the better". They were quiet again watching the humans pick their way along the streets. The video feed looked grainey as the last of the light left the sky and the night vison feature kicked in.
"Take your team to this location" he pointed to a map on a secondary screen. "I'm going to lead the main advance, along here" he moved his finger along the screen. "If we can capture this, we should be able to halt their advance." They were distracted for a moment as the second drone came online, it whirled out of the hands of the Fire Warrior who had been working on it, lights flickering on. Obris snapped orders to the warriors in the room "Get this cleaned up. Send the drones to secure location 72A and get to your transports, we'll be in grips with the Imperials within the hour". The warriors started disconnecting the drones and gathering their gear. Obris nodded to his friend as they both started toward the door. Obris' suit stood ready outside. The Fire Warriors abandoned most of the gear, they took the drones but left all the cables and screens. From here they would have to rely on the two sync drones exclusively.
In the street outside darkness had fallen and the broken shapes of the surrounding city began to loom in the darkness like horrible husks. The occasional flash from a distant battle could be seen, quickly followed by the rumble of a far off explosion. The warriors paid no heed. Several Devilfish transports were either preparing for lift off or pulling away from the ground like large flying beetles lifting from the ground. Obris turned to his suit, the font open, ready to recieve him. As he approached the suit, sencing him, crouched down and extended its arm. He pulled himself up and the suit automatically began to close.
Maturim called from the ground "Keep your head down". Obris didn't respond but instread fixed a confident and stern eye on his friend as the suit sealed itself. Maturn turned toward the rest of his team. The four of them, lightly armed, began jogging off together in a seemingly opposite direction than the rest of the force. Their forms melting into the night. Maturm flicked on his marker light. Its green light shot like a knife into the dark night.
The Dolgath Legacy ~ Part seven: Inquisitor Nelthas requests an audience
In the thrice sealed vault of his secret summoning chamber, Dolgath awaited the appearance of his old minions. In the brooding darkness and oppressive silence of the frigid chamber, the throbbing pain of his newly grafted facial flesh was his only companion. A purplish flickering and the distant sound of agony preceded their arrival. They were twins, a pair entwined in corruption. One was large and brutish, a mass of knotted muscle and overt malevolence that might make one underestimate the malign intellect that lurked beneath. The other was supple and wiry; a thing of tentacles and piercing eyes, its slight build concealed a frightening strength.
“Curse you…You treat us disrespectfully… ” They exclaimed in clashing unison.
Dolgath paused in silence, a hooded shape in the darkness. His anger grew like a thunderstorm over the deserts of Thaxus in spring. Daemonhost were always a tricky proposition, but these two he was familiar with. Over the centuries he had treated with The Twins on numerous occasions, yet they could never be taken for granted. Evil to the very core, they were a tool, nothing more; useful, but perilous.
“Oh? After ten long years I finally bestow unto you a succulent offering of new souls and the best you can do is complain!” Dolgath replied in contempt. “If there is any disrespect it is your pitiful performance executing these pathetic xenos?”
“They are bland, lacking in any juices worthy of sucking…” One complained.
“Their technology is confounding…” The other quipped.
“Really? Bland? Have you become so picky, then?” Dolgath queried.
“Their souls are tepid, thin, lacking in psychic marrow…” The first stated.
“Robbed, manipulated, cursed, the most succulent ones were culled by the Star Vampires long ago…” They both concluded.
“Hmm… Interesting…” Dolgath said.
The wall-mounted vox link chirped. “Lord Dolgath, Inquisitor Nelthas requests an audience with you at your earliest convenience,” the synthesized voice of his adjutant Rykien spat. Dolgath paused in thought for a moment and then moved toward the door.
“You are free to remain or depart as you wish, but do not go far as I expect I may need your services in the near future…” Dolgath spoke to the Daemonhost as he started to exit the chamber.
“They perplex you, do they not?” They both commented in unison.
Dolgath pause only for a moment in the doorway. As he stepped through the massive lead-lined portals, they sealed behind him accompanied by the infernal snickering of the Daemonhosts...
Lost in thought, Dolgath made his way slowly through the dark and frigid corridors of the under-ship. The old battle cruiser was ancient even when his tutor had first taken mastery of her. As Math’s last apprentice, Dolgath took custody of the massive ship lacking any protest from Math’s other alumni. Of Math’s apprentices who achieved Inquisitor-ship, he knew positively that only three remained active besides himself. However, the existence of nine more were unconfirmed positively or negatively.
The Subjugator was a salvage that much he knew. She was heavily damaged and gutted sometime after the brutal struggle of the Horrus Heresy, but she had the spine and prow that marked her as a ship of the modern era. She was old, millennia old, and somehow her legacy remained mysterious. Yet she was solid, Dolgath felt it as he walked her decks. No taint of Chaos had ever touched her. He often admired the detail carved into nearly every railing and bulkhead. Her makers and crew had lavished untold lifetimes of love and dedication into every square centimeter of her. Brass, Ceramite, and Adamantine, that was the skin, muscles and bones of the old girl. Arriving at the main deck, Dolgath hopped aboard a shuttle lift that sped him down the central spine of the ship allowing him to oversee some of the vast launch and ordinance bays that occupied the bulk of the ship’s displacement.
As he arrived at his private quarters, he was caught somewhat unprepared for the amount of bad news he was to receive. Rykien stood by his desk, undoubtedly he was there to update him on the deportment of the battle that he was already personally very much aware of (he touched the raw new flesh of his skin grafts on his forehead). His old friend Techmarine Tullius was also present, for which he could only assume the Adeptus Astartes had failed in another mission… These, Tau, were becoming annoying indeed!
Dolgath slowly eased himself down behind his desk before accepting the reports of Rykien and Tullius. It was all old news. He knew he was on the defensive. When had he not been, in any dealing with his old nemesis, Sylax. Dolgath dismissed Tullius knowing the crack Techmarine would deport himself admirable in any circumstance. He also dismissed Ryrien knowing his adjutant relished any chance to demonstrate his usefulness. What remained for Dolgath were his trusted Sages and Mystics. They gathered around his desk offering various arcane possibilities, some of which he had considered, and some that were beyond consideration…
The appearance of Inquisitor Nelthas and her retinue resplendent in old time baroque Inquisition panorama was a somewhat expected event, yet in reality it was rather more than he was prepared for! Dolgath had served the Inquisition for over three centuries, in that time he had seen many strange things, few surpassed the entourage of Inquisitor Nelthas in its full glory. He was grateful for the substantial and intimidating bulk of his antique desk to shelter him from the full onslaught that faced him.
A small hoard of servitors preceded her, freakish amalgamations of the elegant and the grotesque, one might spy a gilded skull surmounted by golden wings, next to an aborted fetus half infiltrated by Mechanicus implants. Pale faced, zombie-looking, Imperial Guardsmen in antiquated issue uniforms marched stiffly into his chamber and stood at attention in prelude to the Inquisitor’s appearance.
Inquisitor Nelthas glided forward accompanied by a dozen enigmatic black-robed figures that moved with a notably inhuman grace. She was a spectacle unto herself. Three meters tall of rare fabrics, cybernetic apparatus, and Imperial grandeur all coming together in a towering display of excess. Dolgath eased himself slowly into his command chair with what he hoped was a display of unconcern. Nelthas literally floated forward, he could see no evidence of conventional feet actually touching the ground as she moved. She came to a halt in front of his desk, robed in multiple layers of the finest fabrics, what struck him the most was her face – obscured by a psychomorphic mask suspended by an intricate wire-frame support network, it was as pure and white as the finest porcelain, yet as he watched the surface would change ever so slightly… It smiled at him!
“Having trouble with the Tau,” she quipped in a voice resonating on multiple levels.
Oh, yes, she was going to be an interesting one… Dolgath thought.
“Curse you…You treat us disrespectfully… ” They exclaimed in clashing unison.
Dolgath paused in silence, a hooded shape in the darkness. His anger grew like a thunderstorm over the deserts of Thaxus in spring. Daemonhost were always a tricky proposition, but these two he was familiar with. Over the centuries he had treated with The Twins on numerous occasions, yet they could never be taken for granted. Evil to the very core, they were a tool, nothing more; useful, but perilous.
“Oh? After ten long years I finally bestow unto you a succulent offering of new souls and the best you can do is complain!” Dolgath replied in contempt. “If there is any disrespect it is your pitiful performance executing these pathetic xenos?”
“They are bland, lacking in any juices worthy of sucking…” One complained.
“Their technology is confounding…” The other quipped.
“Really? Bland? Have you become so picky, then?” Dolgath queried.
“Their souls are tepid, thin, lacking in psychic marrow…” The first stated.
“Robbed, manipulated, cursed, the most succulent ones were culled by the Star Vampires long ago…” They both concluded.
“Hmm… Interesting…” Dolgath said.
The wall-mounted vox link chirped. “Lord Dolgath, Inquisitor Nelthas requests an audience with you at your earliest convenience,” the synthesized voice of his adjutant Rykien spat. Dolgath paused in thought for a moment and then moved toward the door.
“You are free to remain or depart as you wish, but do not go far as I expect I may need your services in the near future…” Dolgath spoke to the Daemonhost as he started to exit the chamber.
“They perplex you, do they not?” They both commented in unison.
Dolgath pause only for a moment in the doorway. As he stepped through the massive lead-lined portals, they sealed behind him accompanied by the infernal snickering of the Daemonhosts...
Lost in thought, Dolgath made his way slowly through the dark and frigid corridors of the under-ship. The old battle cruiser was ancient even when his tutor had first taken mastery of her. As Math’s last apprentice, Dolgath took custody of the massive ship lacking any protest from Math’s other alumni. Of Math’s apprentices who achieved Inquisitor-ship, he knew positively that only three remained active besides himself. However, the existence of nine more were unconfirmed positively or negatively.
The Subjugator was a salvage that much he knew. She was heavily damaged and gutted sometime after the brutal struggle of the Horrus Heresy, but she had the spine and prow that marked her as a ship of the modern era. She was old, millennia old, and somehow her legacy remained mysterious. Yet she was solid, Dolgath felt it as he walked her decks. No taint of Chaos had ever touched her. He often admired the detail carved into nearly every railing and bulkhead. Her makers and crew had lavished untold lifetimes of love and dedication into every square centimeter of her. Brass, Ceramite, and Adamantine, that was the skin, muscles and bones of the old girl. Arriving at the main deck, Dolgath hopped aboard a shuttle lift that sped him down the central spine of the ship allowing him to oversee some of the vast launch and ordinance bays that occupied the bulk of the ship’s displacement.
As he arrived at his private quarters, he was caught somewhat unprepared for the amount of bad news he was to receive. Rykien stood by his desk, undoubtedly he was there to update him on the deportment of the battle that he was already personally very much aware of (he touched the raw new flesh of his skin grafts on his forehead). His old friend Techmarine Tullius was also present, for which he could only assume the Adeptus Astartes had failed in another mission… These, Tau, were becoming annoying indeed!
Dolgath slowly eased himself down behind his desk before accepting the reports of Rykien and Tullius. It was all old news. He knew he was on the defensive. When had he not been, in any dealing with his old nemesis, Sylax. Dolgath dismissed Tullius knowing the crack Techmarine would deport himself admirable in any circumstance. He also dismissed Ryrien knowing his adjutant relished any chance to demonstrate his usefulness. What remained for Dolgath were his trusted Sages and Mystics. They gathered around his desk offering various arcane possibilities, some of which he had considered, and some that were beyond consideration…
The appearance of Inquisitor Nelthas and her retinue resplendent in old time baroque Inquisition panorama was a somewhat expected event, yet in reality it was rather more than he was prepared for! Dolgath had served the Inquisition for over three centuries, in that time he had seen many strange things, few surpassed the entourage of Inquisitor Nelthas in its full glory. He was grateful for the substantial and intimidating bulk of his antique desk to shelter him from the full onslaught that faced him.
A small hoard of servitors preceded her, freakish amalgamations of the elegant and the grotesque, one might spy a gilded skull surmounted by golden wings, next to an aborted fetus half infiltrated by Mechanicus implants. Pale faced, zombie-looking, Imperial Guardsmen in antiquated issue uniforms marched stiffly into his chamber and stood at attention in prelude to the Inquisitor’s appearance.
Inquisitor Nelthas glided forward accompanied by a dozen enigmatic black-robed figures that moved with a notably inhuman grace. She was a spectacle unto herself. Three meters tall of rare fabrics, cybernetic apparatus, and Imperial grandeur all coming together in a towering display of excess. Dolgath eased himself slowly into his command chair with what he hoped was a display of unconcern. Nelthas literally floated forward, he could see no evidence of conventional feet actually touching the ground as she moved. She came to a halt in front of his desk, robed in multiple layers of the finest fabrics, what struck him the most was her face – obscured by a psychomorphic mask suspended by an intricate wire-frame support network, it was as pure and white as the finest porcelain, yet as he watched the surface would change ever so slightly… It smiled at him!
“Having trouble with the Tau,” she quipped in a voice resonating on multiple levels.
Oh, yes, she was going to be an interesting one… Dolgath thought.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
The Dolgath Legacy ~ Part six: Not be easily manipulated
The recent battle report by the young commissar, Baddenbach, was terse and colorless, yet he felt much more lurked below the surface, restrained by ropes of self control taught and ready to snap. She was the commissar for D company of the 5th Kelten Rifles. The Keltens were a relatively new addition to his personal retinue. After the attrition of his trusted 99th Death Korps of Krieg Panzer Regiment over a decade ago, he had a need to replenish his fighting strength. The 5th Kelten Rifles first came to his attention after the siege of Zucklon Three. They were the only regiment that had detected the enemy’s counter offensive in time to form a viable defense. Despite the fact of taking the brunt of a full armored spearhead, the regiment deported itself admirably. Yet the Keltens had sustained heavy losses and were due to be rotated out of active service from the 7th Obscurus Expeditionary Brigade.
Dolgath was attending the siege of Zucklon Three in an advisory capacity by the request of one, Inquisitor Treyquill, of the Ordo Hereticus. Treyquill was a strange bird, an old acquaintance from his youth in university, recalling Treyquill’s excessive ways Dolgath could not imagine how he ended up in the Ordo Hereticus or in the Inquisition at all for that matter… Why he recommended Dolgath’s attendance at the siege of Zucklon Three was unclear; there were no traces of warp influence in the defection of the planetary government. Yet Dolgath’s presence was a boon to his reputation in the face of the puritans who might wish his removal, and his presence at the deactivation of the Keltens was extremely fortuitous – or perhaps ordained as Rykien suggested – in any case Dolgath agreed to steward the survivors of the regiment aboard his battle cruiser until they could receive reinforcements to return them to active battle strength. Through his influence, Dolgath insured that the 5th Kelten Rifles never returned to full combat status, thereby insuring that they would be available to aid ongoing Ordos operations while under Dolgath’s custody…
How this sat with the Kelten command or the troops in general was an open question. Regimental Commander, Colonel Strauss, was a cagy old campaigner. Dolgath had several formal diners and numerous less formal meetings with him and could still not gage the man. Distinguished, eloquent, unflappable, were a few adjectives he might throw at the old Colonel, yet they somehow were insufficient. Dolgath had the sense that the Colonel was one of the greats gone unrecognized; someone who could easily stand beside the likes of Macharious or Creed. Such a thing was both a boon and a curse; on the one hand, Dolgath had a brilliant commander at his disposal, on the other he had a man who could not be easily manipulated. In any case, the capture and defense of the Chapel of Fallen Heroes by the 5th Kelten Rifles was swift and certain. In fact the expertise and ease in which they deported themselves might even be considered superior to the performance of his old favored Krieg regiment. Watching commissar Baddenbach depart, he was as impressed by her backside as much as her front. He made a note at the next battle to deploy in person to asses the deportment of this new impressive Kelten regiment.
Dolgath was attending the siege of Zucklon Three in an advisory capacity by the request of one, Inquisitor Treyquill, of the Ordo Hereticus. Treyquill was a strange bird, an old acquaintance from his youth in university, recalling Treyquill’s excessive ways Dolgath could not imagine how he ended up in the Ordo Hereticus or in the Inquisition at all for that matter… Why he recommended Dolgath’s attendance at the siege of Zucklon Three was unclear; there were no traces of warp influence in the defection of the planetary government. Yet Dolgath’s presence was a boon to his reputation in the face of the puritans who might wish his removal, and his presence at the deactivation of the Keltens was extremely fortuitous – or perhaps ordained as Rykien suggested – in any case Dolgath agreed to steward the survivors of the regiment aboard his battle cruiser until they could receive reinforcements to return them to active battle strength. Through his influence, Dolgath insured that the 5th Kelten Rifles never returned to full combat status, thereby insuring that they would be available to aid ongoing Ordos operations while under Dolgath’s custody…
How this sat with the Kelten command or the troops in general was an open question. Regimental Commander, Colonel Strauss, was a cagy old campaigner. Dolgath had several formal diners and numerous less formal meetings with him and could still not gage the man. Distinguished, eloquent, unflappable, were a few adjectives he might throw at the old Colonel, yet they somehow were insufficient. Dolgath had the sense that the Colonel was one of the greats gone unrecognized; someone who could easily stand beside the likes of Macharious or Creed. Such a thing was both a boon and a curse; on the one hand, Dolgath had a brilliant commander at his disposal, on the other he had a man who could not be easily manipulated. In any case, the capture and defense of the Chapel of Fallen Heroes by the 5th Kelten Rifles was swift and certain. In fact the expertise and ease in which they deported themselves might even be considered superior to the performance of his old favored Krieg regiment. Watching commissar Baddenbach depart, he was as impressed by her backside as much as her front. He made a note at the next battle to deploy in person to asses the deportment of this new impressive Kelten regiment.
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