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.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Friday, April 02, 2010
The Dolgath Legacy ~ Part 12: The fall of Ozimandias
Kannath Krom, the Kelten Primaris Psycher was old. The records Dolgath accessed for all the 5th 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…
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Tales of the Rancid Blade: Part 25: The machinations of the Kabals
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.
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.
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…
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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