A/N: This is the first part of the Interdimensional Bridge series. It was written in 2006, originally as roleplay logs on IRC between myself and my friends.
Although it takes place in the same continuity as the Karzan and Elkandu stories, prior reading is not necessary. This story follows a newcomer to this part of the multiverse, and as such it is probably the best introduction to this continuity kudzu there might be, with how much I've lost.
This is based primarily off of the tabletop war game "Warhammer 40,000" from Games Workshop, the tabletop roleplaying game "Dungeons and Dragons" from Wizards of the Coast, and loosely from the video game "Freelancer" from Digital Anvil. Also making appearances are elements from the "Star Wars" series from Lucasfilm, the video game "Geneforge" from Spiderweb Software, the "Harry Potter" series by J. K. Rowling, the "Star Trek" series from Paramount, the tabletop game "Rifts" from Palladium, and probably some other random things might poke in too.
A soldier's lot in life was never an easy one, whether walking one of the wisely varied Paths of his own race or, one would assume, the barbaric Mon'Keigh. Hardship was expected, but undertaking such a long journey for, all intents and purposes a wild speculation, was not something which Dolen preferred.
The Council was surely growing desperate as their once glorious sect fell further and further into decay, an anomaly detected by the Seers sufficient to bring he and his men to this distant and desolate world. Months had been spent in transit, and all of them were quite glad to be able to see land before them once more. Even this blasted, forsaken planetoid, he mused.
Their craft would deposit two wave serpents upon the desolate worldlet, far from the origin of the emanations which had been detected in the hopes of avoiding any unpleasant surprises which might lurk beneath the surface. The ravagers were never to be trusted, and this would certainly seem to fall well within the scope of their destruction.
It was once likely a beautiful, lush world, if the power source was any indication, for the Eldar would once have ruled here. They were ever fond of things living and green, delighting in beauty of all kinds and in all things, which made this destruction all the more poignant. So many losses, so few of the Iyanden left, the sheer magnitude of their plight resting heavily on the heart and soul if one were not ever watchful.
The landing proceeded without incident, his Guardians causing a welling of pride in their grace and efficiency. All was well for this moment, he chided himself sternly, and turned to view the world beyond the wave serpent with analytical interest. Yes, the accursed reavers of life had been here, but had likely moved on long ago. Why had they not destroyed what the Seers had detected? Had they failed to sense it or, most unlikely, decided not to?
That could well prove to be a vital question in short order as the sleek craft hummed gracefully across the barren land and began to slow at the edge of their detection range. Strange, he murmured quietly, nearly to himself while studying the instruments. There seemed to be some sort of interference around the source, perhaps a natural phenomenon? Not likely.
Tapping a slender, armored fingertip thoughtfully upon the panel, he considered it a moment more before motioning the pilot to continue onward. They were Guardians, warriors of Iyanden. Too much caution would go against their very nature, and he had little doubt that there would be nothing of true danger to his squad in this long-dead place.
"Prepare to debark," Dolen murmured into his comm, the command channel relaying it to all of his unit and filtering their replies to numbers on the inside of his helmet to indicate readiness. Pride and loss, the trademarks of his Craftworld, and he would surrender neither for anything in this universe.
Their destination rose suddenly before the wave serpents, a sharp cry from the pilot as telling of surprise as the sudden slew which actually causes the armored men inside to shift minutely in their webbing. Dolen restrained an equally sharp query, instead turning the display to focus on the sight so newly-risen as though a wraithguard from its coffin. It bore a passing resemblance to a Warp gate, but on a scale that was unheard of to him.
"Bring us near and remain," he commanded softly, continuing to study the structure closely for a moment more before turning away. The mystery of its origins would be theirs to learn soon enough, the time had come to step forward and embrace their Path once more.
It had been confirmed that the world was not immediately hostile to their very existence, so the squad emerged from the pair of wave serpents with only normal caution, the sound of armored boot-soles the only sound to be heard in the eerily silent air. Dolen motioned a short squad silently forward, to act as point on the approach to the structure which even now maintained a strange, shimmering haze about itself that turned the eye from it.
"There are indications of some sort of power rising, Exarch," reported one of the scanner technicians diffidently. "We are unable to precisely determine it's source, however."
Dolen acknowledged the report formally and moved with the remainder of his force toward their destination, a sudden crackle far above them drawing more than one splinter rifle barrel's attention.
Calm acceptance quickly followed as no threat materialized the savage their ranks, the graceful yellow and blue armored warriors continue onward. Perhaps another serpent's length closer, the sharp discharge above them recurs and a gentle wind stirs the finest dust around their feet. No immediate danger once again determined, the process repeated itself once again, only the third crackle was as a thunderclap from the heavens.
"Fall back!" Dolen called to his squad, waving them back even as the winds grow from gentle to howling fury in the span of moments, blinding the naked eye and blurring sensors. This was madness! "A Warp storm! Retreat!" he cried, the first controlled hint of fear appearing in his voice as the ancient horror uncoils itself from skies above.
How? Why? These questions burned in his mind even as he fled in the impenetrable cloud of debris as surely as those in his command. There was no reasoning with the madness of the Warp. There was only the slimmest hope of escaping it once its fury was unleashed, and each of them was left to their own decisions beneath the choking blanket of the coming Warp.
Dolen staggered, struggling against the winds that buffet his armor mercilessly, praying to gods that he knows well were dead and gone for their aid and mercy. Slaanesh alone awaited in the Warp, and that terror fueled him to push further and faster, battling terror and the primal energies in equal measure.
The suddenness of silence struck as though a hammer, his own voice incredibly loud in his ears and falling only slowly to silence. He stumbled and fell in the sudden calm, blind to the world around as the immediacy of the survival of his very soul rings as loudly as the beat of his own heart and rasp of breath.
Slowly, so very slowly, terror faded, the soul-wrenching horror of the Warp no longer reaching out to him, and with that realization came several others. Grass bled green beneath his wraithbone palms, the sight nigh unbelievable were it not for other details slowly melded with his awareness such as the warmth of light, the whisper of wind through leaves, the distant burble of water running through a bed of stone.
Dolen removed his helmet, forgetting standard protocol in his moment of complete amazement, and gazed at the lush world surrounding him with disbelieving eyes. The trees around him were enormous, some of them nearly thirty meters in diameter. The sunlight filtered down through a canopy of leaves, and there seemed to be movement fluttering somewhere high above, as of wings, but nothing came close enough for a good look.
After a few moments, there's a shimmer in the air not far from him, and a figure materialized standing some ways away. It's a man, a half-elf, standing around five foot eight inches, with tousled black hair falling around his pointed ears and piercing green eyes looking out. He was wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt with fancy red and orange writing for the power metal band Pyroluminescence.
Dolen reached reflexively for his splinter rifle as the presence of someone other than one of his own registered, only to pause in momentary confusion as the comfortingly familiar weapon was no longer to be found. There were, however, other means to deal with the hostile and he shifted on one heel to face the newcomer with narrowed eyes. The stranger's sudden appearance sparked instant suspicion in the wake of recent events.
"Greetings," he offered with stiff formality, wavering not an inch from a readiness toward violent action and wishing that he'd not removed his helmet after all now. The situation was decidedly uncertain, and he would likely find the long near-silver blonde tail even now seeking to escape from his collar a hindrance were things to degrade.
Sedder looked over the stranger warily, narrowing his eyes. "Who are you? I sensed a disturbance in the Ethereal Plane... You're not Chaos, are you?" Although he carried no visible weapons, he looked poised to defend himself if the need arises.
Dolen appraised the other man more carefully, taking in the oddities of appearance now and his regard pausing noticeably at the sharp tilt of the other's ears. They were not, perhaps, so slender and refined as his own, but there was no mistaking the resemblance. The question struck him a nearly physical blow, following the recent foray into the Warp, and he replied with regal hauteur, "No spawn of Chaos am I, but may the same be said of you?"
"Certainly not. I came here after seeing the destruction on Lezaria to ensure that this planet had not also fallen into their foul hands. But I've thankfully detected no trace of them here."
The answer soothed him only slightly, for the minions of that damned foe were quick to deceive, yet his mind ran ahead of caution as other details emerged.
"Lezaria?" Dolen asked softly, slowly reaching down to retrieve his elegantly curved helmet. He had never heard of such a place, and he had travelled far and wide in his service to the Craftworld. Perhaps something of value might be learned here, were he careful in how he proceeded.
"Yes, Lezaria, my homeworld, the homeworld of the Elkandu," Sedder said, relaxing from his defensive stance and sticking his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. "You must have come from rather far away to have not heard of Lezaria. And I've never seen a manner of dress quite such as yours before."
It was not unsurprising that the other had not seen such as he, for would any of the hordes of teeming Mon'Keigh recognize the prestigious symbol of his armor and the debt of honor it entailed? Unlikely.
"I am, in truth, quite unsure of precisely where 'here' is. The means of my arrival were most unexpected to me and..." Dolen trailed off, the immediacy of the moment fading to sharp concern for his squad as he looked around for any traces.
"This is the world of Wilderplane," Sedder explained. "We are currently five miles west of City in the Trees, deep within the Wilderness. In the Elkandu Universe, if that helps. Most people call me Sedder." He folded his arms across his chest casually. "Who would you be?"
Dolen turned his attention entirely away from the other as he snapped the helmet back into place. A glow appeared before his eyes, bereft of the sigils which would normally mark the location of any of his unit within range, and he snapped a command to report into the commlink to deny the fact. Gone? All of them? Surely they could not have become so separated in the storm, he reassured himself with sinking hope.
The other's movement drew his attention suddenly back, the social grace of introduction barely registering at the moment. "Tell me! Did you sense any other disturbances nearby? There should have been others," he trailed off, turning away once more in a futile search through optics for any sign of his comrades.
Sedder shook his head. "The only one I detected has been you. If there were others, they did not come this way. The Ethereal Plane has been unusually tempestuous lately, though. I'm not sure what's causing it."
Even in armor, the slight shift of posture gave away a moment of despair, and Dolen remained silent for the span of several breaths. "May the Laughing God, the only one to escape the Devourer keep your souls, my kin," he nearly whispered, knowing full well that only Slaanesh awaited them in the grasp of the Warp.
Sedder's face softened a bit. He said quietly, "I hope they're alright."
With a soft sigh, he turned to face Sedder with a sad smile hidden beneath the helmet. "You will forgive my momentary slip of composure, I pray. There were twenty with me this day, upon a blasted and twisted land, and it would seem that only I escaped the fury of the Warp. The Devourer awaits for us there, seeking to complete the work he began so very long ago."
Sedder nodded sadly. "Do not give up hope too easily. You cannot be certain of their fate." Sedder smirks faintly, staring upward for a moment. "Seems like nobody can be certain of fate anymore, really. The future is a tangled mess. I don't want to look at it."
"Perhaps," he replied quietly, considering what he had seen and trying to make sense of it, allowing the ache of loss to join that inherent to his Craftworld. "It is apparent that the Warp has brought me far from the domain which Iyanden lays claim to. I must needs find a way to return and report to the Seers." Though what he might tell them other than to stay well away, he was uncertain.
Sedder looked back down at him again and said, "I would suggest using the Nexus of Torn Elkandu, but Chaos has laid claim to that city as well, and it is not safe to go there."
Dolen studied Sedder quietly, digesting another spate of unheard of locations, only the concept of Chaos being well entrenched coming as no surprise to him. "Where might I find these places of which you speak? I fear my knowledge of this place is limited to this clearing and little further."
"Well, Torn Elkandu is located inside the Ethereal Plane adjacent to where Lezaria exists in the physical plane. They overlap one another, so to speak."
Removing his helmet once more, Dolen mused that the Warp had done something far more insidious to him than he could have imagined. He found himself in a place of which he knew nothing, speaking to a strange being of indeterminate origins, and realizing that he was utterly beyond the scope of anything which the Craftworld had trained him for.
Dolen shook his head, the braid fluttering to the side, and admitted with a wry, distant smile, "I fear you've lost me entirely. I know not of any of these places you speak, their very names seeming foreign to my ears. They are nothing which the Iyanden or, I am increasingly certain, the Eldar as a whole are aware."
"Eldar?" Sedder said, quirking an eyebrow. It appeared that the word was not wholly unfamiliar to him, but he seemed a bit surprised to hear it.
"Yes, Eldar," Dolen replied quietly, the suspicion becoming full realization that he had been brought far beyond the reach of what was known to his people. "I am..." he paused, then continued with a hint of melancholy, "Or was the commander of a Guardian force sent to explore an anomaly detected by a Farseer. It was that anomaly which apparently attracted a warp storm and brought me here."
Sedder blinked slowly. "Well, yes. I don't believe you're in Kansas anymore, so to speak." He glanced upward at the leaves again. There was rapid fluttering movement, as of sparkling wings against sunlight. He sighed softly, and said, "Best get out of here before the pixies decide to stop being shy and investigate. I'll take you to the city of Kelletirandia."
Dolen didn't even blink at the slew of new references, merely adding them to the rapidly growing list of oddities which would eventually need to be sorted through. He nodded in affirmation, having no other option at this point than to trust this stranger. Time would decide whether that situation continued from moment to moment, but for now he was content to follow the soldier's creed.
"One step follows the other, after you."