If one were to observe the machinations of the Kabals in Commoragh one might think that chaos reined in that dark city. The few humans that arrive there see it as such. Raiders tear through the city striking at will, yet some walk through the streets unscathed. Few put locks on doors in Commoragh, yet the Sybarites and their warriors seem to plunder indiscriminately. There are no souls in that bloody city that show compassion, yet Kabals and clans gather for mutual protection. Commoragh is governed not by laws or codes as we might think of them, but rather by the record of guiles and the codex of schemes. Everyone in the dark city knows about the deals that Archons make. Everyone knows that to cross those schemes at the wrong time would be death to them (or worse). Doors are barred not by force but because of pacts between Dracons that none dare to cross. Some people walk in places with no armor, and because they are protected by an Archon and his wiles, they have a greater armor than could ever be found. Those that know how to survive in Commoragh know how to bide their time, when to strike, and when to mutually agree.
Over the years Brugoyle had watched hundreds of ploys and maneuvers, dozens of fakes and gestures . He would keep his eyes on the politics of the Kabals as one might watch embers in a fire. He would benefit from the warmth the embers generated while all the time seeking not to be burnt by them. The red glow of the political embers would dance about, sometimes flaring, sometimes smouldering. He knew how to maneuver the eddies and currents made by the smoke of those embers and knew what was out of line and what was an opportunity. He now turned his eyes to the body before him. He knew that the significance of that which he gazed upon wouldn't be an ember but a blaze.
He knelt in the middle of an open street. Its once polished flagstones were worn and beaten down. Buildings about him, in the heart of the busy Yelimeli District, were well maintained if dark and lonesome. This neighborhood was in the heart of Rancid Blade territory. Only blocks away the mighty spires of the Achon's towers rose to dominate the skyline. Before him on the street ley the body of one who was mighty and now had been cast low. It was the body of the old one, his master, the great Archon of the Rancid Blade. Actev Nu was dead. He had been killed on some nameless world that humans deem worthy to fight over. The great man was slain by the blade of some lucky nameless human. The human would never know the havoc that his luck would now unleash within the dark city. That human knew nothing of decades of pacts and years deals made in the dark long ago that would now be over turned. That human knew only of terror and a lucky blow that slew the mighty knight of the Rancid Blade.
Brugoyle drew in a quick breath looking to his warriors who stood about, splinter rifles in hand, securing the scene. Somebody knew. Somebody understood the significance. Somebody knew to the dump the mighty Archon's body here, deep in what was once his own territory. Someone was sending a message. Somebody had scooped up the body of the old Archon from the field of defeat and had dumped him here to send a message that that the rules were about to be re-written and Commorragh would never be the same. Somebody's plan for revenge was playing out. Brugoyle drew himself upto his full height. He looked about the darkness. He new that others watched. He knew that they that had done this now looked on from the shadows.
He felt change was coming. He felt that the rules were being rewritten. Soon the old bonds would be broken and the old agreements would be asunder. A new rulebook was coming.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
The Dolgath Legacy part 11: Impervious and Cold
The coming battle would be the crucial stroke that decided the doom of New Boston, the fate of the planet and the security of the entire sector. Dolgath had no choice but to activate his hidden assets, dangerous assets, assets that would demand a price…
He stood before a vault which he had never opened. The massive circular door bore the Inquisitorial Seal, but also the mobius serpent symbol of the Officio Assassinorum. To open this vault was death to anyone other than an Inquisitor. He did not hesitate as he pressed his rosarius into the receptacle and stood back. For a long moment nothing happened. Dolgath wondered if this vault might have been keyed to open only to Math’s personal cipher, but then he heard something faint, the sound of ancient cogitators coming to life. A red gem in the serpent’s eye began to blink and then fired an intense ruby beam that scanned Dolgath head to toe. As suddenly as the beam appeared it winked out, followed by a hiss like the intake of a long slow breath between clenched teeth. The massive half meter thick adamantium door opened like an iris so perfectly designed it made no sound. The chamber beyond was pitch black; a low throbbing came from somewhere within and after a moment cold florescent strips along the floor flickered fitfully to life.
Dolgath stepped forward, his breath steaming in the frigged air. The chamber was circular, empty save for four black capsules side-by-side in the center of the room. The capsules were suspended at a 45 degree angle several feet above the floor with no visible support. Each capsule was two and a half meters long and utterly featureless save for a single symbol centered on the upper side. Dolgath paced slowly down the line – Eversor, Culexus, Vindicare, Callidus… He paused for a long moment considering the skills of each of these deadly specialists, then touched his rosarius to one of the capsules. It split along a seam that was not visible before and slowly opened. Dolgath stepped back rather more hastily than he intended, but nothing happened immediately. It was several long minutes before he noticed signs of life. He moved forward to carefully peer inside – he saw the outline of a body, a human female, nude, upside-down, face obscured. Her legs came out first, slowly, revealing their long muscular perfection, then the rest of her glided out in an effortless back flip that ended with her standing in front of him facing away. She stretched – a long luxurious cat stretch – reaching for the ceiling elongating her impossibly perfect body. At the same moment, an iris opened in the ceiling and an apparatus descended in a spiral motion traveling the length of her body, applicators spraying a substance on her body that quickly solidified into a glossy black whole body suit. The applicators quickly withdrew, but were replaced by a rack of equipment and manipulator arms which rapidly attached various arcane devices to her body. Lastly she pulled a strange pistol-like weapon from the rack and holstered it to her hip, and finally fitted an outlandish sword-like weapon to one hand. At last she turned to face him. Her face was unrecognizable hidden behind the black mask and a set of enhanced optics. Her exquisite body was as erotic as he had first seen her, her nipples erect and jutting from her perfect full breasts, and yet the black skin that covered her now made her into something else, like a marble sculpture, impervious and cold.
He turned away without saying a word and walked out. She followed him, or at least he guessed she did, he could hear no sound of her movements. The vault sealed behind them with a motion that Dolgath felt more than he heard. He had one more asset to activate, and this one was going to be a fair bit more unsettling. Having a Callidus at his back would give him at least a modicum more confidence for what he must face…
The summoning chamber was lit by five corpse candles that provided a somewhat more warming light than that in the Assassinorum vault. Yet the ice gripping Dolgath’s chest was far worse. Both his familiar Daemonhosts lurked at the periphery of the chamber. They were gruesome, frightening creatures to anyone else, yet they were a strangely comforting presence to Dolgath, particularly on this day. He imagined the presence of the Callidus did not go unnoticed; after all she could exterminate both of them utterly with one swipe of her arcane weapons, but they pretended to give no sign. The vessel, a Beta Level latent psycher, had already been prepared at the center of the summoning circle. Dolgath allowed himself to feel for the poor unfortunate for a moment; he told himself, when he no longer felt sorry for the victims of his machinations was when he knew his humanity was slipping…
The ritual was strangely foreign to his lips, even though he had performed similar rituals many times; he had never summoned this particular entity, even though he was more than casually familiar with this particular hellspawn. The screaming of the host subsided as his flesh took on the characteristic violet hue that Dolgath had come to recognize as belonging to Trellphegore the Thrice-Cursed. This particular entity was the favorite of Math, his master, yet Dolgath did not trust it for a moment, in fact he suspected it was responsible for his master’s death. Dolgath had prepared the vessel with three times the order of magnitude of restraints than he normally accorded his daemonhosts. To bind them in this way was to severely restrict their power, and hence their usefulness, yet it also provided greater constructs to control them, and Dolgath was taking no chances with this one. The corpse lights guttered until only the faintest violet hue lit the chamber. The vessel arched its back violently and then became quiescent, all seemed unremarkable… Dolgath knew better.
“Dolgath,” it said, its voice reverberating around the chamber. “The student becomes the master. I have been looking forward to this day. Many great things we will accomplish…”
Dolgath motioned to the heavily augmented servitor waiting silently nearby. It rolled forward on a tracked chassis its hydraulic-enhanced arms wielding a particular apparatus. It rammed a red-hot sanctified iron bolt up through the jaw of the daemonhost and swiftly rotated a similarly red-hot plate and nut down the threaded shaft and affixed a brass Inquisitorial sealed lock to it all. Trellphegore’s eyes bulged in indignation as he tried to open his sealed mouth, uttering nothing more than a few muffled groans. To his right, Dolgath’s other daemonhosts snickered mockingly, although he noticed their exclamations seemed muted. Behind him the Callidus was utterly silent. Suddenly, Gomezibub, the bulkier of his two daemonhost, began screaming in agony. Dolgath glanced in his direction and saw a bloody rift beginning to form in its massive chest.
“I forgive you, young one,” Trellphegore said from the mouth emerging for Gomezibub’s chest. “Math favored me over these rubes and I intend to demonstrate why, if you give me the chance…”
Dolgath considered this momentarily. The fact that it could do that to another of its kin revealed that it was an entity on another level all together. Dolgath replied. “There will be no parlay between us, no pleasant reminiscences. I give you one task and one task only: you will feed upon Dark Eldar, as bitter and unpalatable as they may be. That is your task and if you fail it, I will seal you into a crystal matrix and launch you into the next passing neutron star to await the rebirth of the universe in the next 20 billion years.”
Trellphegore’s eyes bulged once again, but the mouth in Gomezibub’s chest sealed over. Dolgath nodded. “Very well, I will soon provide you with a battlefield where you may indulge your appetites. Do not consider even the most insignificant rebellion.” Dolgath punctuated this comment with a brief glace over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure if the Callidus was still there, but if she was, it would be suitably dramatic. Every bit helps, he thought…
He stood before a vault which he had never opened. The massive circular door bore the Inquisitorial Seal, but also the mobius serpent symbol of the Officio Assassinorum. To open this vault was death to anyone other than an Inquisitor. He did not hesitate as he pressed his rosarius into the receptacle and stood back. For a long moment nothing happened. Dolgath wondered if this vault might have been keyed to open only to Math’s personal cipher, but then he heard something faint, the sound of ancient cogitators coming to life. A red gem in the serpent’s eye began to blink and then fired an intense ruby beam that scanned Dolgath head to toe. As suddenly as the beam appeared it winked out, followed by a hiss like the intake of a long slow breath between clenched teeth. The massive half meter thick adamantium door opened like an iris so perfectly designed it made no sound. The chamber beyond was pitch black; a low throbbing came from somewhere within and after a moment cold florescent strips along the floor flickered fitfully to life.
Dolgath stepped forward, his breath steaming in the frigged air. The chamber was circular, empty save for four black capsules side-by-side in the center of the room. The capsules were suspended at a 45 degree angle several feet above the floor with no visible support. Each capsule was two and a half meters long and utterly featureless save for a single symbol centered on the upper side. Dolgath paced slowly down the line – Eversor, Culexus, Vindicare, Callidus… He paused for a long moment considering the skills of each of these deadly specialists, then touched his rosarius to one of the capsules. It split along a seam that was not visible before and slowly opened. Dolgath stepped back rather more hastily than he intended, but nothing happened immediately. It was several long minutes before he noticed signs of life. He moved forward to carefully peer inside – he saw the outline of a body, a human female, nude, upside-down, face obscured. Her legs came out first, slowly, revealing their long muscular perfection, then the rest of her glided out in an effortless back flip that ended with her standing in front of him facing away. She stretched – a long luxurious cat stretch – reaching for the ceiling elongating her impossibly perfect body. At the same moment, an iris opened in the ceiling and an apparatus descended in a spiral motion traveling the length of her body, applicators spraying a substance on her body that quickly solidified into a glossy black whole body suit. The applicators quickly withdrew, but were replaced by a rack of equipment and manipulator arms which rapidly attached various arcane devices to her body. Lastly she pulled a strange pistol-like weapon from the rack and holstered it to her hip, and finally fitted an outlandish sword-like weapon to one hand. At last she turned to face him. Her face was unrecognizable hidden behind the black mask and a set of enhanced optics. Her exquisite body was as erotic as he had first seen her, her nipples erect and jutting from her perfect full breasts, and yet the black skin that covered her now made her into something else, like a marble sculpture, impervious and cold.
He turned away without saying a word and walked out. She followed him, or at least he guessed she did, he could hear no sound of her movements. The vault sealed behind them with a motion that Dolgath felt more than he heard. He had one more asset to activate, and this one was going to be a fair bit more unsettling. Having a Callidus at his back would give him at least a modicum more confidence for what he must face…
The summoning chamber was lit by five corpse candles that provided a somewhat more warming light than that in the Assassinorum vault. Yet the ice gripping Dolgath’s chest was far worse. Both his familiar Daemonhosts lurked at the periphery of the chamber. They were gruesome, frightening creatures to anyone else, yet they were a strangely comforting presence to Dolgath, particularly on this day. He imagined the presence of the Callidus did not go unnoticed; after all she could exterminate both of them utterly with one swipe of her arcane weapons, but they pretended to give no sign. The vessel, a Beta Level latent psycher, had already been prepared at the center of the summoning circle. Dolgath allowed himself to feel for the poor unfortunate for a moment; he told himself, when he no longer felt sorry for the victims of his machinations was when he knew his humanity was slipping…
The ritual was strangely foreign to his lips, even though he had performed similar rituals many times; he had never summoned this particular entity, even though he was more than casually familiar with this particular hellspawn. The screaming of the host subsided as his flesh took on the characteristic violet hue that Dolgath had come to recognize as belonging to Trellphegore the Thrice-Cursed. This particular entity was the favorite of Math, his master, yet Dolgath did not trust it for a moment, in fact he suspected it was responsible for his master’s death. Dolgath had prepared the vessel with three times the order of magnitude of restraints than he normally accorded his daemonhosts. To bind them in this way was to severely restrict their power, and hence their usefulness, yet it also provided greater constructs to control them, and Dolgath was taking no chances with this one. The corpse lights guttered until only the faintest violet hue lit the chamber. The vessel arched its back violently and then became quiescent, all seemed unremarkable… Dolgath knew better.
“Dolgath,” it said, its voice reverberating around the chamber. “The student becomes the master. I have been looking forward to this day. Many great things we will accomplish…”
Dolgath motioned to the heavily augmented servitor waiting silently nearby. It rolled forward on a tracked chassis its hydraulic-enhanced arms wielding a particular apparatus. It rammed a red-hot sanctified iron bolt up through the jaw of the daemonhost and swiftly rotated a similarly red-hot plate and nut down the threaded shaft and affixed a brass Inquisitorial sealed lock to it all. Trellphegore’s eyes bulged in indignation as he tried to open his sealed mouth, uttering nothing more than a few muffled groans. To his right, Dolgath’s other daemonhosts snickered mockingly, although he noticed their exclamations seemed muted. Behind him the Callidus was utterly silent. Suddenly, Gomezibub, the bulkier of his two daemonhost, began screaming in agony. Dolgath glanced in his direction and saw a bloody rift beginning to form in its massive chest.
“I forgive you, young one,” Trellphegore said from the mouth emerging for Gomezibub’s chest. “Math favored me over these rubes and I intend to demonstrate why, if you give me the chance…”
Dolgath considered this momentarily. The fact that it could do that to another of its kin revealed that it was an entity on another level all together. Dolgath replied. “There will be no parlay between us, no pleasant reminiscences. I give you one task and one task only: you will feed upon Dark Eldar, as bitter and unpalatable as they may be. That is your task and if you fail it, I will seal you into a crystal matrix and launch you into the next passing neutron star to await the rebirth of the universe in the next 20 billion years.”
Trellphegore’s eyes bulged once again, but the mouth in Gomezibub’s chest sealed over. Dolgath nodded. “Very well, I will soon provide you with a battlefield where you may indulge your appetites. Do not consider even the most insignificant rebellion.” Dolgath punctuated this comment with a brief glace over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure if the Callidus was still there, but if she was, it would be suitably dramatic. Every bit helps, he thought…
Friday, March 19, 2010
Send forth all legions
Ozzymandias: Send forth all legions. Do not stop the attack until the city is in ruin. Capture them all.
Lady Hosphel: What of the Inquisitor?
Ozzymandias: I will break him.
Lady Hosphel: What of the Inquisitor?
Ozzymandias: I will break him.
Monday, March 15, 2010
The Dolgath Legacy part 10: I still have a few tricks
“Ozymandias, I had him!” Dolgath raged as he paced back and forth before the vast viewports of his audience chamber. Nelthas was a small, solitary huddled shape at the center of the chamber, watching him.
“Do you realize, this is the same Ozymandias who the Emperor met ten thousand years ago when he still walked among men… The same Ozymandias who foretold the betrayal of Horus and his kin, and who laughed in the Emperor’s face when he refused to accept his revelations…”
Dolgath drew his power sword in a dramatic sweeping gesture. “I hewed him, time and time again I hewed him, and yet never touched him…” Dolgath tossed the crackling power blade onto his desktop. “Exenthion, my faithful blade, forged five thousand years ago by the weapon masters of Mars – useless!” Dolgath spat.
Dolgath suddenly stopped his pacing and moved forward to rest his head against the cold, thick, armor-glass of the viewport. Nelthas moved then. She surged forward from a small huddled shape to a towering form that glided up behind Dolgath. She rested her delicate gloved hands upon his hunched shoulders. He glanced up at her.
“I have nothing left, I have dedicated all my reserves…” he said.
Her phsycomorphic mask looked down upon him with entirely more emotion than he could have imagined. “I have a Baneblade,” she whispered.
Dolgath squared his shoulders and stood to his full height as he looked up at her. “And I still have a few tricks up my sleeve...”
“Do you realize, this is the same Ozymandias who the Emperor met ten thousand years ago when he still walked among men… The same Ozymandias who foretold the betrayal of Horus and his kin, and who laughed in the Emperor’s face when he refused to accept his revelations…”
Dolgath drew his power sword in a dramatic sweeping gesture. “I hewed him, time and time again I hewed him, and yet never touched him…” Dolgath tossed the crackling power blade onto his desktop. “Exenthion, my faithful blade, forged five thousand years ago by the weapon masters of Mars – useless!” Dolgath spat.
Dolgath suddenly stopped his pacing and moved forward to rest his head against the cold, thick, armor-glass of the viewport. Nelthas moved then. She surged forward from a small huddled shape to a towering form that glided up behind Dolgath. She rested her delicate gloved hands upon his hunched shoulders. He glanced up at her.
“I have nothing left, I have dedicated all my reserves…” he said.
Her phsycomorphic mask looked down upon him with entirely more emotion than he could have imagined. “I have a Baneblade,” she whispered.
Dolgath squared his shoulders and stood to his full height as he looked up at her. “And I still have a few tricks up my sleeve...”
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Tales of the Rancid Blade: Part 24: I remember when the stars were young
A dark courtyard. Cobble below. Shapes of buildings in the night stood all around. The only lights were from the flicker of Obolis' suit. His large form stood in the darkness. Targeting lights blinked and watcher strobes slowly struck on and off. Obolis' Crisis Suit stood almost twenty feet tall. The ruins about him seemed to cower from the brilliant white of his form. Stars called their promise from above. His sophisticated targeting lights spotted the eldar before the Archon stepped from the darkness. Some called him Ozymandias, others named him Hateful, his own kin called him the Grand Actev Nu. The tall elf was dwarfed in size by the towering crisis suit, but not in stature. Ozymandias wore dark leather armor. The smell of the oiled leather penetrated the air. His long hair hung abut his shoulders and the majesty of a ten thousand years of night hung on his words. This elf was old. His eyes were old and though his flesh seemed infused with new life and energy, the ages of eons hung on him.
"I see in you a distrust of us." Ozymandias spoke in a language well familiar to Obolis, that of the Fire Cast. "Do not fear us. We have come to serve the greater good".
Obolis cast his robotic eye toward the eldar form, its green light scanning the long eldar face. Though Ozymandias knew it was there, the hate in Obolis' eyes did not show in the green orb of the crisis suit. Obolis hated how this elf twisted the words of the Tau. When Ari’Arshi, the Etherial that was a god to him, had walked through the warp portal with this creature, he could not believe his eyes. The teachings of Ari'Arshi had formed Obolis' path in the Fire Cast since his most young days. He had followed Ari'Ashi's teachings as a philosophy through his entire life. Move fast, strike hard, strike close. These were tenants, taught to him, and to Anemos long ago. The two leaders of the Cemiphon expansion had studied under the teachings together. Hundreds of other Fire Warriors had the tattoo of Ari'Ashi formed into their flesh and the marking of his teaching formed into their minds. How Ari'Ashi could now have walked through the gates of the accursed, flanked by merchants of the twilight house, was a horror to him. Only hours had passed since that event and now the dawn was drawing near. Obolis recalled that at first he had looked to his general, Anemos. He saw that her eyes were full of awe at the arrival of her teacher, philosopher king, and god. Then he looked to Sylax, the human preacher. Obolis' horror and hate had focused on the betrayal in that human.
"Do not pretend to me". The snarl in Obolis' voice was almost audible through the translation unit on the suit. "I know the ways of this universe. I know that you are cursed. You dwell in the crimson realm of blood and though Anemos won't acknowledge it, she knows it too". Anemos had accepted the word of her god. Ari’Arshi had spoken of peace with the the eldred kin. He had spoken of collaboration and the hope of salvation for these thrice cursed eldar. Ari'Ashi had asked Anemos and Obolis to see this as an opportunity. Both the Fire Warriors had nodded in consent to their master. But Obolis' anger continued to twist inside. There was nothing that could be done for these horrors and no salvation to be brought. Afterwards he had voiced his concern to Anemos. She had tried to soothe him. "Do not be fear the word of your king" she said. "These aliens will bend to the will of our dominion as all others have" she said in confidence.
Ozymandias grinned revealing etched teeth. He spoke in his own dark tongue now, relying on the suit's translation software. "You are brave, hidden in your mechanical suit. Very brave, cloaked in the metal of your new empire" all pretence had been replaced by sarcasm. "I remember when the stars were young." He began again. "I recall when the very stars that glitter through your realm of promise were as new as you appear to me today. I remember those days. They were not so long ago" the Archon looked toward the darkness as though looking to the past. "I have seen many civilizations grow on the ground that you now seek to conquer and I will look on this ground long after all your optimistic kin have toiled their lives away in my pits."
"I know that your pits were once the glory of the stars. Once your kind ruled in beauty and now all you rule is the hatred in your own heart" the speaker issued.
"This is true." The Archon nodded. "What you fail to know and that one day I will make you understand, is that the glory and beauty of the stars and the hated in my heart are one in the same." Supreme confidence carried his words. "You will understand, before the end, that my pits are beautiful."
Obolis shuddered within his suit. "I will cleanse your kind" he snarled in anger.
"Not today. Not while your god commands you otherwise" the eldar lord grinned while speaking. "Do not underestimate the fate of a heretic" the dark lord spoke "I know it well".
"I see in you a distrust of us." Ozymandias spoke in a language well familiar to Obolis, that of the Fire Cast. "Do not fear us. We have come to serve the greater good".
Obolis cast his robotic eye toward the eldar form, its green light scanning the long eldar face. Though Ozymandias knew it was there, the hate in Obolis' eyes did not show in the green orb of the crisis suit. Obolis hated how this elf twisted the words of the Tau. When Ari’Arshi, the Etherial that was a god to him, had walked through the warp portal with this creature, he could not believe his eyes. The teachings of Ari'Arshi had formed Obolis' path in the Fire Cast since his most young days. He had followed Ari'Ashi's teachings as a philosophy through his entire life. Move fast, strike hard, strike close. These were tenants, taught to him, and to Anemos long ago. The two leaders of the Cemiphon expansion had studied under the teachings together. Hundreds of other Fire Warriors had the tattoo of Ari'Ashi formed into their flesh and the marking of his teaching formed into their minds. How Ari'Ashi could now have walked through the gates of the accursed, flanked by merchants of the twilight house, was a horror to him. Only hours had passed since that event and now the dawn was drawing near. Obolis recalled that at first he had looked to his general, Anemos. He saw that her eyes were full of awe at the arrival of her teacher, philosopher king, and god. Then he looked to Sylax, the human preacher. Obolis' horror and hate had focused on the betrayal in that human.
"Do not pretend to me". The snarl in Obolis' voice was almost audible through the translation unit on the suit. "I know the ways of this universe. I know that you are cursed. You dwell in the crimson realm of blood and though Anemos won't acknowledge it, she knows it too". Anemos had accepted the word of her god. Ari’Arshi had spoken of peace with the the eldred kin. He had spoken of collaboration and the hope of salvation for these thrice cursed eldar. Ari'Ashi had asked Anemos and Obolis to see this as an opportunity. Both the Fire Warriors had nodded in consent to their master. But Obolis' anger continued to twist inside. There was nothing that could be done for these horrors and no salvation to be brought. Afterwards he had voiced his concern to Anemos. She had tried to soothe him. "Do not be fear the word of your king" she said. "These aliens will bend to the will of our dominion as all others have" she said in confidence.
Ozymandias grinned revealing etched teeth. He spoke in his own dark tongue now, relying on the suit's translation software. "You are brave, hidden in your mechanical suit. Very brave, cloaked in the metal of your new empire" all pretence had been replaced by sarcasm. "I remember when the stars were young." He began again. "I recall when the very stars that glitter through your realm of promise were as new as you appear to me today. I remember those days. They were not so long ago" the Archon looked toward the darkness as though looking to the past. "I have seen many civilizations grow on the ground that you now seek to conquer and I will look on this ground long after all your optimistic kin have toiled their lives away in my pits."
"I know that your pits were once the glory of the stars. Once your kind ruled in beauty and now all you rule is the hatred in your own heart" the speaker issued.
"This is true." The Archon nodded. "What you fail to know and that one day I will make you understand, is that the glory and beauty of the stars and the hated in my heart are one in the same." Supreme confidence carried his words. "You will understand, before the end, that my pits are beautiful."
Obolis shuddered within his suit. "I will cleanse your kind" he snarled in anger.
"Not today. Not while your god commands you otherwise" the eldar lord grinned while speaking. "Do not underestimate the fate of a heretic" the dark lord spoke "I know it well".
Friday, March 12, 2010
The Dolgath Legacy ~ Part 9: Activate the armored reserves
Inquisitor Nelthas sat – or at least took a posture that resembled sitting – across from Dolgath in his private observation dome situated above the bridge of The Subjugator. From this vantage, they seemed to be soaring high above the vast battle cruiser its many gothic spires stabbing upward towards them. Nelthas had distained her normal entourage and it was just the two of them chatting and sipping the finest five hundred year old absinth. Or at least Dolgath sipped it. He watched Nelthas covertly out of his peripheral vision as he pretended to gaze out the viewports. She raised the glass with a delicate lace-gloved hand and carefully brought it up to the porcelain facade of her psychomorphic mask – the lips parted and a small amount of the emerald liquid drained from the glass. They spoke of many things, none of them having to do with Inquisitorial business or the battle raging bellow. It was quite the most pleasant time Dolgath could remember having in many decades…
“My Lord,” a pair of nearly identical voices said in unison.
Dolgath turned in annoyance as Nelthas took another sip from her glass. His twin sages stood silhouetted at the threshold of the chamber the cables interconnecting them starkly apparent.
“I left word that I was not to be disturbed,” he growled.
“We found something in Math’s diaries,” said one.
“Something about this planet,” said the other.
“Something ancient,” said the first.
“Something for…” the second started to say.
“What?” Dolgath snapped with mounting impatience.
“Ozymandias,” they whispered together.
Nelthas cocked her head slightly toward them.
“Here? Are you certain?” Dolgath asked in disbelief.
The nodded simultaneously.
“Sylax!” Dolgath stood up suddenly. “Activate the armored reserves and prepare to deploy to the planet!”
“My Lord,” a pair of nearly identical voices said in unison.
Dolgath turned in annoyance as Nelthas took another sip from her glass. His twin sages stood silhouetted at the threshold of the chamber the cables interconnecting them starkly apparent.
“I left word that I was not to be disturbed,” he growled.
“We found something in Math’s diaries,” said one.
“Something about this planet,” said the other.
“Something ancient,” said the first.
“Something for…” the second started to say.
“What?” Dolgath snapped with mounting impatience.
“Ozymandias,” they whispered together.
Nelthas cocked her head slightly toward them.
“Here? Are you certain?” Dolgath asked in disbelief.
The nodded simultaneously.
“Sylax!” Dolgath stood up suddenly. “Activate the armored reserves and prepare to deploy to the planet!”
Friday, March 05, 2010
Dolgath Legacy Part Eight: A torch held aloft
Rage. Like a torch held aloft burning too bright to gaze upon, the rage of Captain Rex ignited a fury in his space marines unlike anything Dolgath had seen before. The ancient Astartes hero led the remains of his forces personally, charging forward with a passion that verged on recklessness.
“You see,” the voice of Inquisitor Nelthas seemed to emanate from someplace other than her person. “Such passion is foreign to the Tau. Combat to them is laid down in formal doctrine to be conducted in the prescribed manner. When faced with such fury, they crumble…”
Dolgath glanced at Inquisitor Nelthas. Her means of locomotion had accommodated her normally lofty height into something that would fit into the passenger bay of his Vendetta. Yet even this close, her true face was still partially hidden behind the apparatus of her psychomorphic mask which held a beatific smile reminiscent of some ancient painting from old Terra that he could not quite recall, an expression as elusive as her voice. Nelthas distained her usual entourage as well, accompanied only by two of her mysterious cloaked guardians.
Dolgath had initially requested all the support the Ordo Xenos could provide, offering to cede authority of this operation to her. To his surprise, Nelthas declined, instead counseling patience. In any case, Captain Rex had refused all aid, gathering together nearly the entire remnants of his depleted company; he chose a bombed-out section of the city adjacent to the docks for his last stand. Dolgath was surprised the aliens turned to engage them there. Perhaps they had become overconfident with their recent successes… As Dolgath scanned the battlefield, something caught his eye: Imperial pattern vehicles.
“Look there,” Dolgath indicated several blocky shapes amid the sleek alien vehicles.
“The Tau are noted for their indoctrination of Imperial forces…” Nelthas commented.
Dolgath suddenly leaned forward to stare intently at the view-screen. “Not just imperial, Inquisitorial!” Nelthas craned her head forward sharply.
He was just an old man. His lined face, grey hair and long dark robes were most appropriate for the monastery, or the endless stacks of the Administratum, but the whirling adamantine teeth of the eviscerator in his hands marked him as something else entirely. Sergeant Ulysses did not hesitate, old man, priest, or savant, the fact that he was here, in opposition to Captain Rex, meant he was a target. The old man’s attack upon Corvis, his squad’s trusted rhino transport, sealed his fate. The spinning chain weapon carved easily through the side of Corvis into its volatile core, the resulting detonation of its sacred power plant killed at least four of his fellow Astartes brothers. His squad was devastated, yet Sergeant Ulysses charged the heretic with all his righteous fervor. He sidestepped a vertical cut that would most certainly have carved him in half and slammed the butt of his boltgun into the old man’s face, seeing clearly the collapse of the bones and watching as if in slow motion as the old man fell to the dirt his eviscerator clattering useless at his side. Ulysses was about to turn away to the battle at hand, but the faint appearance of something, as if ripples upon water, drew his attention. Over the old man’s body appeared something… a haze, a mist, he could not later describe it in detail, but hands appeared and took the old man. He considered for a moment attacking this apparition, but he thought: the enemy deserves to collect their dead. The sacred rites of the apothicarion demand it.
Honor had been satisfied. Dolgath released the Adeptus Astartes from his service. As much as he’d liked having such a formidable force at his disposal, the price was just too high, on too many levels, and keeping in the good graces of the space marines was always a wise option. Yet, the battle for New Boston was not done, by any stretch, he would have to prosecute it with his own forces from here on out. His Keltens had not yet been truly tested, but he had no doubt these Tau would put them to the ultimate test.
“You see,” the voice of Inquisitor Nelthas seemed to emanate from someplace other than her person. “Such passion is foreign to the Tau. Combat to them is laid down in formal doctrine to be conducted in the prescribed manner. When faced with such fury, they crumble…”
Dolgath glanced at Inquisitor Nelthas. Her means of locomotion had accommodated her normally lofty height into something that would fit into the passenger bay of his Vendetta. Yet even this close, her true face was still partially hidden behind the apparatus of her psychomorphic mask which held a beatific smile reminiscent of some ancient painting from old Terra that he could not quite recall, an expression as elusive as her voice. Nelthas distained her usual entourage as well, accompanied only by two of her mysterious cloaked guardians.
Dolgath had initially requested all the support the Ordo Xenos could provide, offering to cede authority of this operation to her. To his surprise, Nelthas declined, instead counseling patience. In any case, Captain Rex had refused all aid, gathering together nearly the entire remnants of his depleted company; he chose a bombed-out section of the city adjacent to the docks for his last stand. Dolgath was surprised the aliens turned to engage them there. Perhaps they had become overconfident with their recent successes… As Dolgath scanned the battlefield, something caught his eye: Imperial pattern vehicles.
“Look there,” Dolgath indicated several blocky shapes amid the sleek alien vehicles.
“The Tau are noted for their indoctrination of Imperial forces…” Nelthas commented.
Dolgath suddenly leaned forward to stare intently at the view-screen. “Not just imperial, Inquisitorial!” Nelthas craned her head forward sharply.
He was just an old man. His lined face, grey hair and long dark robes were most appropriate for the monastery, or the endless stacks of the Administratum, but the whirling adamantine teeth of the eviscerator in his hands marked him as something else entirely. Sergeant Ulysses did not hesitate, old man, priest, or savant, the fact that he was here, in opposition to Captain Rex, meant he was a target. The old man’s attack upon Corvis, his squad’s trusted rhino transport, sealed his fate. The spinning chain weapon carved easily through the side of Corvis into its volatile core, the resulting detonation of its sacred power plant killed at least four of his fellow Astartes brothers. His squad was devastated, yet Sergeant Ulysses charged the heretic with all his righteous fervor. He sidestepped a vertical cut that would most certainly have carved him in half and slammed the butt of his boltgun into the old man’s face, seeing clearly the collapse of the bones and watching as if in slow motion as the old man fell to the dirt his eviscerator clattering useless at his side. Ulysses was about to turn away to the battle at hand, but the faint appearance of something, as if ripples upon water, drew his attention. Over the old man’s body appeared something… a haze, a mist, he could not later describe it in detail, but hands appeared and took the old man. He considered for a moment attacking this apparition, but he thought: the enemy deserves to collect their dead. The sacred rites of the apothicarion demand it.
Honor had been satisfied. Dolgath released the Adeptus Astartes from his service. As much as he’d liked having such a formidable force at his disposal, the price was just too high, on too many levels, and keeping in the good graces of the space marines was always a wise option. Yet, the battle for New Boston was not done, by any stretch, he would have to prosecute it with his own forces from here on out. His Keltens had not yet been truly tested, but he had no doubt these Tau would put them to the ultimate test.
Thursday, March 04, 2010
My name is Ozymandias
"I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away."
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away."
The Dolgath Legacy Part Seven: Beyond any pretence of ego
The slaughter was unexpected, even unimaginable. The Adeptus Astartes were the finest the Imperium had to offer, yet they died… died en-mass, squad after squad. Dolgath, watching from the view screen of his personal Vendetta transport, had seldom been witness to such a waste. These Tau were clearly beyond anything he was prepared for. He had dismissed Inquisitor Nelthas’ offer of support cordially, yet he realized now he should have never sent her away at all, in fact, he should have seated control of this operation to her entirely. The recent revelations made it clear beyond a doubt that this was a matter for the Ordo Xenos.
Returning to the Subjugator, Dolgath was confronted by another unpleasant and yet unavoidable consequence of this action… the honor of the Space Marines. None other than Captain Rex himself awaited Dolgath in his chambers. Although he might have doubted it just days before, the full furry of a Space Marine Captain far outmatched that of even an Astartes Chaplain… There was no dissuading the course of events that were to come. Dolgath offered a few kernels of advice that were summarily disregarded. This was now an Adeptus Astartes matter – the one organization for which the Inquisition held no authority. Dolgath could do naught but watch as the space marines expended themselves to the last against the Tau. Sadly, it was the Tau who would ultimately pay the price. Even if they defeated the Space Marines totally on the morrow, the Astartes bore a long and bitter memory. They would write their defeat into stone, nay, into adamantine, a grudge to last for untold millennia only to be brutally avenged, Dolgath guessed, long years after the Tau had utterly forgotten about it…
As the massive, ancient Astartes warrior departed, Dolgath fell back in his chair with a sigh and activated the encrypted Ordos channel. Inquisitor Nelthas’ response was almost immediate, as if she was expecting just such a contact. At this point Dolgath was beyond any pretence of ego, he needed help, however and whatever that entailed…
Returning to the Subjugator, Dolgath was confronted by another unpleasant and yet unavoidable consequence of this action… the honor of the Space Marines. None other than Captain Rex himself awaited Dolgath in his chambers. Although he might have doubted it just days before, the full furry of a Space Marine Captain far outmatched that of even an Astartes Chaplain… There was no dissuading the course of events that were to come. Dolgath offered a few kernels of advice that were summarily disregarded. This was now an Adeptus Astartes matter – the one organization for which the Inquisition held no authority. Dolgath could do naught but watch as the space marines expended themselves to the last against the Tau. Sadly, it was the Tau who would ultimately pay the price. Even if they defeated the Space Marines totally on the morrow, the Astartes bore a long and bitter memory. They would write their defeat into stone, nay, into adamantine, a grudge to last for untold millennia only to be brutally avenged, Dolgath guessed, long years after the Tau had utterly forgotten about it…
As the massive, ancient Astartes warrior departed, Dolgath fell back in his chair with a sigh and activated the encrypted Ordos channel. Inquisitor Nelthas’ response was almost immediate, as if she was expecting just such a contact. At this point Dolgath was beyond any pretence of ego, he needed help, however and whatever that entailed…
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