Tales of the Rancid Blade: Part twenty-seven: A warning light illuminated on her console

One might imagine that when inside the crisis suit one felt constricted or "encased" but it was not like this at all. Within her suit she felt more free, less constricted, it was almost like floating. She was suspended as though above the ground in a network of actuators and fiber bundles that, connected to her arms and legs, supported her and sensed her intentions and movements. They suspended her as though she were in mid air. As she moved the fiber bundles reacted and moved the monstrous suit to match the movements of her arms and legs. The suit's programming was intuitive so it could divine which of her movements were instructions for the suit to mimic and which were her own casual movements. This way she could move her hands to tap the several consoles about her or manually engage with the touch screens without her suit itself performing a bizarre dance. A curved holo screen wrapped around her head like a halo of images. It showed the outside world all about her. It was as though the wrapped screen cut a view straight through the hard casing of the suit. If she turned her head to the back she saw what was behind her, to the right she saw her right shoulder and gun. Her view screen was also populated by information intuitively provided by the suit. Warnings would appear as flashing icons or info boxes on the wrapped screen. Video feeds would appear bringing information and data from her Pathfinders or Drones in the field. Also, if she wanted, with the glance of her eye or a swipe of her hand, she could rotate the view about her head without moving her head at all so that she and her suit would be facing forward while her view looked backward. She could command a sector wide engagement from this suit; assigning units to various conflicts or battles, recalling or deploying at will. Holo maps of the campaign swirled about her tied to videos and stats. It produced a symphony of information. It were as though she were literally juggling the war about her head.

For the most part it was dark within the suit and because of the wrapped view screen and her liberal and unrestricted range of movements the suit conveyed to the wearer the effect of an enormous range of motion. She could take massive strides across the battlefield, fly, leap over buildings and perform feats entirely beyond the range of most her foes. All this within the serene and warm environment of the suit. Her large weapon systems could be leveled at a target with no effort at all on her part. The Air-bursting Frag gun was almost fifteen feet long and could fire a continuous stream of explosives, and she fired it with as much effort as one might use a garden hose. Her twin plasma guns, when synced through her various hardwired systems, could split apart the hull of the toughest tank while the air-bursting gun tore into a platoon of enemy soldiers. Her various shield and watcher drones notified her of incoming threats and protected her from impacts. Recently she had marveled at a shield drone as it had absorbed several incoming missiles. Two of the three shots struck the energy shield conveyed by the drone, the second hit had overloaded the shield leaving her exposed to the final missile. A warning light illuminated on her console warning her of both the failure of the shield and of the expected hit. But the drone, in a final effort to fulfill it program's intent quickly moved into the path of the missile. Both missile and slave were destroyed with no harm to her in her dark cocoon.

The suit wasn't clunky or machine-like in its movements. It was fluid but purposeful. Gripping toes at the end of long armored legs, a broad breastplate and armored shoulders formed the bulk of the suit. Two large vented engines dominated the back of the suit. A small "head" protected several green eye peices that were really targeting devices. When the targeting lights from the "head" focused on a target it conveyed less what Anemos was looking at but rather what she was looking to destroy. Anemos knew that her Crisis Suit was the most sophisticated peice of weaponry in the 41st Millennium. Smarter than the prehistoric armor of the Space Marines, more versatile than the corrupted bulk of the cursed Terminators, and more utilitarian than the walking tombs of the Eldar.

Tales of the Rancid Blade: Part 26: The fields beyond the city

Her eye scanned over the dawn and the broken teeth of ruins that rose up before her. Black and dark against the dawning sky they were like the brutalized souls that had been cast down in this city. Her robotic hand gripped a wall and her clutching claw feet, like a birds', gripped the broken parapet. Her crisis suit crouched, lurked, atop the blasted ruin of what was once part of this city. Several stories above the street she looked out beyond the ruins, beyond the city walls. Her digital view cast out toward the fields beyond the city. The dawn was drawing golden shapes across the hills that lay beyond the city. Slow morning clouds countered the sun's expanse. Within her suit she could still appreciate the beauty of the dawn even while the optic processors scanned for threats. There were none located.

There had been four days of almost constant fighting for the blasted ruins that lay behind her. The marks of battle adorned her suit. A large cloud of black marked what had once been white. A crack along the jump engine on the right side had been growing since two days ago. She sighed thinking of all the events of the last few days. What a toll had been paid to simply align the balance of the scales. What a penalty in lives had been metered out in order to simply preserve the light against the dark. There had been days of fighting and little change in her fortunes. She pondered her contributions to the scales of fair and fey. Though she had respected the will of the Anu and admitted the Dark Eldar into the city she knew in her heart that this had contributed to the darkness as much as the humans themselves. Obolis had railed against admitting the Dark Eldar into the greater order and he had been right. The Kabal of the Rancid Blade had swept across the city butchering all in their path. Like a fleet of scythe crickets they had killed with wanton abandon. At the time she had leaped to stop them, but Ari'Arshi had held her back. He had nodded his approval as the pirates attacked the humans. She had reported the rumors that the Dark Eldar had begun attacking her own lines to Ari'Arsi and he had dismissed her. She had seen the evidence herself. But she could not turn against her God. She could not be like Obolis~ cursing the Etherial in the dark of the night. Only the death of Actev Nu, the leader of the fiendish host, had halted its rampage. She had been quietly relieved when the dark king had fallen. She had watched, from the eye of a hidden seeker drone, as the alien was cast down by the blade of a human. She sensed that Ari'Arsi had been relieved also. At first the Etherial had seemed renewed but then hours later he fell into a distraught pall and was evacuated to orbit. Her Fire Warriors despaired thinking the Etherial would die. The Dark Eldar had abandoned the fight too. They slipped away like blood down a drain. They left her lines exposed and she was unable to recover. Then again perhaps it was the will of the Fire Warriors~ gone like their God.

She turned toward the east again. The hills now had the sun in full. She added a polarized filter to her view screen as the sun cast its light onto her also. She had been unable to secure the city as a landing site for the Tau fleet. Right now the fleet was landing in the plains to the east under the great guns of the Imperial artillery. A landing under fire was not ideal. The initial battle reports that fed to her had not been good. She sighed thinking of the diminished force she would now lead to conquer this sector. It would be a longer war, a harder war. A smoldering war rather than a firestorm. She had lost her chance for the fury of fire. In a moment she flicked several switches within the suit and the engines shuddered into action lifting her from her perch. The suit rose above the broken city. The dark husk of the abandoned city dropped below. She could see on the long range scanners that the Imperials were abandoning the city also. She could see their lines moving to reinforce the battle at the Tau landing site via the Holdilco Pass. Her Devilfish had moved out under the cover of darkness hours ago. She was confident she would meet those Imperials again. Confident that, without so many distractions, she would best them. As she flew from the city she was joined by a couple of other suits as they cast through the sky. She thought of Sylax. What had become of him? Was he dead? No, she thought not. She was confident that she would see him again also. And when she did, she would kill him.

The Dolgath Legacy ~ Part 12: The fall of Ozimandias

Kannath Krom, the Kelten Primaris Psycher was old. The records Dolgath accessed for all the 5^th Kelten Rifles senior officers showed his age at 497 Imperial Standard. And he looked it, as crooked and hoary as an ancient oak tree, he leaned upon a massive sword, the blade sheathed in a scabbard of dark carved wood chased in bronze that had gone green with the verdigris of age. His mad green eyes glared from underneath bushy brows and he carried on a muttered conversation with invisible companions. He was given a wide berth by most, as strange things had a tendency to happen around him – like the lasgun that was hovering in mid-air nearby disassembling and reassembling itself… Yet most of the command staff, including Colonel Straus and the craggy iron-hard Lord Commissar Krull, seemed perfectly at ease in his presence. Despite this, the regimental HQ was a zimbee hive of activity, the officers engaged in issuing orders for deployment and rules of engagement for the coming battle.

Dolgath left the Keltens to their business as he saw a black Inquisitorial drop ship descending to the landing site. It deposited a huge cargo container on the ground with a heavy thud that he felt in his bones, and then it quickly dusted off and headed skyward. The loading door/ramp of the transport container slammed down sending up a billowing cloud of dust followed by the deep bass rumble of a massive set of engines firing up. Heads turned from every direction as the colossal tank rolled out into the light of day. Inquisitor Nelthas was true to her word, a Baneblade super-heavy tank. Such a thing was an uncommon sight even to the Keltens Rifles who were a line regiment. Most line regiments had a number of tanks of their own, but no super-heavies like this at their disposal. Yet, as Dolgath looked at the massive battle cannon and the bristling weapon emplacements of the oversized war engine, only one thought came to mind – Target. Every heavy gun in the enemy’s arsenal would be directed at this mass of metal and death. Never-the-less, perhaps that was its greatest value, it would draw huge amounts of fire as the rest of his army advanced unhindered to the objectives. Even so, if this massive behemoth was somehow destroyed, Dolgath knew he would owe substantial reparations to Inquisitor Nelthas – yet, somehow, that thought was not altogether unpleasant to ponder…

It was Colonel Straus who had conceived the master stroke, driving all Dolgath’s remaining forces to the heart of the Tao’s original drop zone. There he believed he could cut off all support to the invading elements where they could be subsequently isolated and destroyed piecemeal. Dolgath could not fault this strategy, yet the presence of Sylax and his Dark Eldar allies disturbed him. He did not know how Sylax had convinced the two disparate races to work together, but that somehow always proved to be Sylax’s particular brilliance… Their last battle, facing a combined force of Tao and Dark Eldar, had been fought to a stand-still. He guessed the alliance between the aliens was uneasy at best and he had no idea of the composition of the forces that would be arrayed against him this day. He had no choice but to proceed with every resource at his disposal.

The order had been given. His forces rolled forward toward the alien landing beacons with the goal to capture them and perhaps use their own signals to confound the enemy, or at the very least to destroy their safe landing zones. Dolgath himself, and his hand-picked retinue, charged on foot toward the central landing platform. He expected the sounds of engagement to reach him at any moment, but, save for the rumble of moving vehicles, all was quiet. He climbed to the top of the elevated landing pad and from this high vantage surveyed the battlefield… There was no sign of the enemy anywhere. Vox reports were coming in over the com-net, three beacons secured, two others within easy grasp. This was very strange. The hairs on the back of his neck began to stand up…

Suddenly, the vox chatter began to pick up, garbled reports coming in; hazy figures and fast flickering shapes was all he heard. Then he saw them, all sharp blades and speed, Dark Eldar raiders. They materialized behind his lines, as was their favored tactic, throwing his forces into confusion. A strong spearhead of the wicked aliens was aimed right for the heart of the Kelten command base. Dolgath realized he would need to act quickly and decisively to prevent the chaos, which the Dark Eldar engendered, running rampant through his forces. He executed his summons, where and when his Daemonhosts appeared was up to them, he could only hope they arrived in a time and place that would benefit the outcome of the battle. He also issued a command to his Callidus. No telling where she was lurking, but no doubt she was connected to the com-net and was listening in to the vox traffic guiding her to the best place for her to strike.

Just then, a shimmering appeared a scant fifty yards ahead near one of the alien beacons. A single scant squad of Penal Legionnaires lead by a Ministorum Priest was left to hold that objective as the rest of the armored column had moved toward a further uncontested objective. Dolgath instantly realized this beacon would surely fall into the enemy’s hands. As if on cue, a hoard of slavering beast of the warp appeared and charged howling ravenously toward the legionaries. A moment later a second shimmering appeared, what stepped through was as equally alien, yet this apparition was Carlostopheles, one of his Daemonhosts. It caught the Dark Eldar by surprise, flailing its inhuman tentacles in all directions.

The Dark Eldar spearhead driving toward the Kelten command was blunted somewhat by the hail of fire from the infantry platoon stationed there, as well as the hydra flak battery that redirected its fire at the Dark Eldar jet bikes screaming toward them. Much carnage ensued, but unfortunately, it was not enough, as Osimandias himself and his personal retinue rose form the wreckage and prepare to assault the hapless soldiers with their fell wickedness. Colonel Straus quickly realized he would need to make a stand in the face of this ancient evil. With a shout in praise of the Emperor, his HQ unit charged the sharp-bladed flickering death that was Osimandias.

Dolgath witnessed this assault only on the periphery as he suddenly found himself under the concerted assault of Dark Eldar witches and jet bikers. They carved through his henchmen in a matter of moments. Soon he found himself alone facing a hoard of drug-crazed svelte aliens intent on his unpleasant demise. He sent out a desperate summons as his ancient power blade parried the onslaught of poison-soaked Dark Eldar weapons. Suddenly a shimmering appeared behind the flailing aliens. One of his daemonhosts had answered his summons, but it was not Trellphegore as he was expecting, it was Gomezibub the one who had endured the violation by Trellphegore in his summoning chamber. At nearly the same moment, a dark shadow materialized behind the Dark Eldar bikers, the Callidus had arrived… The two of them carved through the aliens killing and dismembering the beautiful Eldar without pause. Dolgath was left standing in a circle of bodies covered in alien blood. He saluted his rescuers; he would not forget their service this day. Yet he quickly turned his attention toward the battle at the Kelten command.

Colonel Straus was old by human reckoning, 349 Imperial standard, yet he felt like an infant in the presence of the truly ancient alien standing before him. Strangely, the Dark Eldar looked young, his skin was supple and his frame was unbent, however the age in his eyes was something unfathomable. He moved with the kind of quickness and suppleness that surpassed any human youth, yet the countenance of his face portrayed a weariness that could only come from untold ages of bestowing death. Ozimandias cut through Straus’s command squad felling his bodyguards and his standard bearer. Only the desperate measures of his medic kept himself, Lord Commissar Krull and High Psycher Krom from falling. Both he and Krull had hued multiple times at Ozimandias with their glowing power blades, and yet somehow they failed to strike him. He seemed to flicker and be at multiple places at once. Each time they smote him his form would smile at them mockingly and dissipate into mist. Finally, Krom pulled his huge sword from its scabbard. The old man seamed to waver for a moment under its weight, too much for an elderly man. Then eldritch light began to form around the blade and seep into the man. Krom slowly stood to his full height like some ancient hero from the hoary old Kelten sagas, his long hair and beard seemed to flow in an unseen wind. He raised the massive sword and smote the alien once. For his part, Ozimandias seemed to almost be waiting for the blow. He stood unflinching watching for the strike as if he was judging its worthiness… The ancient force weapon, nearly as old as Ozimandias himself, blazed in emerald light as it struck him. The wound was almost superficial, yet the ancient eldar fell as if his spine had been severed. The power of the warp sucking out the remains of his twisted soul…

Dolgath watched the fall of Ozimandias. He knew a great evil had been cleansed from the universe, and yet, he wondered, if it merely opened the door to even greater evil…