Ranger Chapter 1, a warhammer fanfic

Hello, everyone! I just bought my new Eldar Codex and was having a read through it. The background and information provided for the Eldar Outcasts and Rangers were particularly interesting to me, and inspired me to write this piece of fiction. I try to be as accurate as I can, but the Warhammer universe is so vast, it's almost impossible to make everything right. So please, if you see any glaring deficiencies in my story, please tell me about it so I can fix it as soon as possible! Read and review!

Ranger

Chapter 1

For as long as he could remember, Aelemar had dreamed of the outside world, an entire universe of wondrous and terrifying places to explore and experience, free from the rigid restraints and complications of Eldar society. As a child, he had wandered the cold wraith-bone interior of Craftworld Kaelor, his home, always feeling as if he was somehow being cheated out of something by being confined to Kaelor's interior and not being allowed to roam free throughout the stars.

Aelemar had always admired the Eldar Aspect Warriors; his own father had been a Dire Avenger, but the warriors he looked to above all else were the Rangers. Whenever a group of Rangers visited his Craftworld, fresh from their latest journeys, Aelemar had always followed them around, listening to their exciting tales of adventure and danger as they traveled throughout the galaxy. Many of the Rangers had traveled for decades, honing their skills in countless battles and skirmishes. To him, the Rangers, in their dirtied cloaks and dented armor, represented something he desired greatly: freedom.

The Craftworld Farseers had said that the Rangers often told romanticized versions of their exploits; that the actual galaxy was far more dangerous and grim than they made it out to be. Aspirations to become a Ranger were often frowned upon by the more experienced members of Eldar society, for many of the young Eldar who set out to become a Ranger never return, weakening the already dwindling Eldar population further. But despite the warnings, it didn't take Aelemar long before he too wished to become one of these expert marksmen, these rogues who lived on the edge of Eldar society: a Ranger.

As he grew older, nearing his three hundredth year of life, he made his decision. While most of his friends and peers took the Path of the Warrior, joining the various Aspect Shrines, he chose the Path of the Outcast, the way of the Ranger. He had bid farewell to his friends and family, and had spent many long hours readying himself for his new life. On the date marking his three hundred years of life, his final preparations had been made and he was ready.

"You're a fool," Amawyn had told him, her crystal blue eyes brimming with despair and tears streaming down her cheeks, as she and Aelemar had stood alone together before he left. "A fool to become a Ranger. There is nothing for you out there but a friendless death, alone and forgotten on some unknown world."

She had begged him repeatedly to stay, but his choice was made. His heart had been heavy for the life he was leaving behind, but he was young and energetic; he had prepared for this moment his entire life. Aelemar had given her one final kiss and left, ready for his new life as a Ranger.

In the years following that bitter-sweet departure, Aelemar had indeed traveled far and wide across the galaxy. He had experienced oozing swamps, majestic mountains, and giant oceans, as well as the reek of burning flesh, the smell of blood, and the screams of the dead and dying.

Aelemar had often asked himself, as he lay resting on some dirty back-water world, if he had made the right choice. The path of the Ranger had unlimited freedom and possibilities, but was this itself a reward, or a burden? It was a question he still couldn't answer.

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50 years later- on the Imperial controlled planet of Jhorus II

The squad of Ultramarines paused at the city's outskirts; their shining blue armor was smeared with caked mud and dried blood from previous engagements. Even though they wore bulky power armor, Aelemar could tell by their body language that they were tense. Five of them fanned the ruined city surrounding them, searching for signs of their enemy, while the Sergeant paused, lifting his bolter and scanning the city as if he was hunting for something.

The Sergeant was hunting them, Aelemar thought, but they too were hunting the Ultramarines. He and six of his fellow Rangers, various Eldar he had met and befriended on his many journeys across the galaxy, were scattered throughout the ruined city, waiting in hidden positions, targeting the Space Marines. They only awaited his signal.

Already feeling the adrenaline pumping in his veins, Aelemar let out a slow, calming breath and adjusted his sights slightly, turning one of the several intricate knobs on his Long Rifle. His rifle scope zoomed in, magnifying the Sergeant's scarred face as if he was standing directly in front of the Ranger.

Aelemar's breath slowed, his finger itching on the trigger, tensing for action. He had done this a hundred times, but somehow it always felt as if he was doing it for the first time. He knew that his fellow Eldar were tensed for action, on the breaking point, ready for the coming fight.

Just as he was about to pull the trigger, Aelemar was distracted by a small pile of rubble falling from Jaellar's position, landing at the base of the building with several loud thuds. With a feeling of panic, Aelemar realized that one of the Marines had noticed and was eyeing Jaellar's hidden position with renewed interest. As the Space Marine raised his bolter to fire, Aelemar quickly switched his aim from the Sergeant to the Marine threatening Jaellar's life. Aiming for the neck armor of the mon-keigh warrior, Aelemar squeezed the trigger and hoped he hit the jugular.

Before the sound of the rifle shot had begun to fade, before the spray of oxygenated red blood filled the air from the Marine's ruined throat, seven other shots cracked out, dropping two more of the Ultramarines. Even before the muzzle flash of the Rangers' Long Rifles had died away, the Space Marines were returning fire, scrambling behind fallen pieces of stone masonry for cover, shouting out orders and praises to their Emperor. The steady beat of bolter fire rattled across the area, their explosive rounds carving out pieces of the steel buildings like a knife through butter.

As the firefight grew hotter, the Space Marines got a lucky hit; Aelemar heard a keening cry off to his left from his friend Lahresh, who was clutching a hole in his stomach, his gloved hands turning red from his blood. The Ultramarines noticed the new target, and focused fire. Lahresh, already mortally wounded, endured another barrage of bolter rounds that left tatters of flesh and a pool of blood in his place.

Enraged at Lahresh's death, the Eldar Rangers continued to pour volley after volley into the Space Marines, but their power armor held firm against the onslaught, and the Rangers' efforts only revealed their position to the Marines as the muzzle flashes from their long rifles temporarily illuminated the Eldar to the Ultramarines. Another cry of pain, and Aelemar saw Zanrah topple from the rooftop he was perched upon, a stiletto of bolter rounds patterning his light armor in blood.

More fire from the five remaining Rangers dropped another Space Marine, the human clutching his right eye visor in agony as blood streamed freely from the wound. The other Space Marine fired blindly, not knowing where his hidden enemies were, hoping that he would score a lucky shot. A trio of rounds finally managed to penetrate his power armor and kill the human, staining his bright blue armor red.

An eerie silence settled over the city with the death of the last Ultramarine. The skirmish apparently over, the Eldar Rangers began to emerge from their positions, but Aelemar signaled them to stay still. He quickly scanned the battlefield, but only noticed five Space Marine bodies… where was the Sergeant? His question was answered in a moment as he heard a strangled cry of surprise. Aelemar turned fast enough to see the Sergeant striking Yvhorl with his power fist. With an explosion of blood and bile, Yvhorl's body was gone, leaving only a large splatter of blood on the walls. Breathing deeply, the Sergeant looked up- and stared directly into Aelemar's eyes, only yards away. With a roar, the mon-keigh charged at Aelemar, brandishing his power fist.

Aelemar snapped up his rifle, putting two shots into the Sergeant's armor, but not penetrating. In seconds, the Space Marine would be on him, and all that would remain of his body would be bits of flesh and pools of blood. Throwing aside his Long Rifle, Aelemar whipped out his Shuriken pistol and fluidly depressed the trigger, releasing hundreds of shards in seconds at the oncoming Space Marine.

The shuriken smattered and ricocheted off of the Sergeant's armor, but many found their mark and penetrated his unprotected face. Howling in pain, blinded by his own blood, the Sergeant still charged, flailing with his power fist in the hopes that he would take Aelemar down with him. Not having enough time to dive aside, Aelemar braced himself, hoping against hope that he would survive.

Before the Sergeant could disembowel Aelemar, a shot rang out, drilling the Sergeant clearly through the head and causing the Marine to crumple in a heap, finally taken down. Aelemar stared down at the dead Marine at his feet in disbelief, his heart beating rapidly. Releasing his helmet catch and letting the cold air flow across his sweaty face, Aelemar felt his knees buckle, battle exhaustion finally taking him. The Sergeant's power fist still crackled with energy, a reminder of how close Aelemar had been to a messy death.

Jaellar stepped over the Space Marine's body, his long rifle still smoking from the shot. "Thought I'd repay you for saving my life earlier," Jaellar grinned at Aelemar, extending his hand. Aelemar took it and allowed Jaellar to hoist him to his feet.

The battlefield was still now. The smoking city, only hours before full of the sounds of warfare, was now eerily quiet. Slowly, cautiously, the remaining Rangers left their positions and approached Aelemar and Jaellar.

Aelemar examined his remaining comrades with sorrow. The battle with the Adeptus Astartes had cost them nearly half their number. Grief stricken faces stared at Aelemar, and their weapons hung loosely at their sides as the Rangers contemplated their losses. Aelemar suppressed his own feelings of guilt; he was the leader of the group, and it was he who was responsible for the deaths of three of his Rangers, friends he had known and fought together with for years in countless battles.

"The mon-keigh will be swarming over this city by nightfall. We have obeyed the Farseer's orders as best as we could. We must retreat and regroup with the main force."

Aelemar turned away from his squad and felt a sudden emptiness within him as he conveyed his next orders. "We cannot be burdened with excess weight. Take the spirit stones of our fallen and leave the bodies."

The cause for the struggle between the Eldar and Imperium over Jhorus II was a millennia old Eldar Warp Gate. The Eldar Farseers of Craftworld Kaelor had recently become aware that the Dark Eldar would soon find this gate and attempt to use it to transport their troops and slavers from Commorragh to ravage the planet. The ignorant mon-keigh, mistaking the Dark Eldar raiders for Eldar, would begin retaliatory attacks on Craftworld Kaelor. It is a fate that was not especially desired by the Eldar Farseers.

Despite having left his Craftworld nearly half a century ago, Aelemar still felt a strong sense of duty and loyalty to his home. He was one of the many who answered the Farseers' call to delay the Imperial troops as they attempted to permanently close the warp gate.

After arriving on the planet nearly a week ago, Aelemar and his Rangers had spent all of their time in the ruins of the once mighty capital city, holding out against the Imperial troops to buy the Farseers more time. With nearly half of their number gone, Aelemar and his Rangers withdrew from the destroyed city under cover of darkness, attempting to locate and regroup with the main Eldar force.

"The Warp-Gate is due south, nearly five miles away," Jaellar told Aelemar in a whisper, as the squad of Rangers stealthily made their way through the dense forests of Jhorus II. "There, the main force of Eldar has established defensive positions to protect the Farseers." Jaellar smiled grimly. "They are under heavy fire. If we want to link up with them and escape this cursed place, we may need to kill a few more mon-keigh before the night is over."

As the night dragged on and the Rangers progressed further, they came into more and more frequent contact with Imperial Guard patrols. Fortunately, the darkness of the night and their Camoleoline cloaks saved them from several unnecessary engagements. The rumble of artillery from the human Basilisks occasionally lit up the night sky, and Aelemar often found himself wondering how the small task force of Eldar could possibly stand up to such a barrage.

For hours, the Rangers traveled ceaselessly, fighting combat exhaustion and avoiding Imperial troops. As the night hours began to wane, and rays of light began to shine over the horizon, the exhausted Rangers crested a ridge, stumbling from exhaustion and battle-fatigue. A sudden noise emanating from the surrounding foliage immediately put the Rangers on alert, warily swinging their rifles around as they searched for their hidden foes.

"We are not your enemies, fellow Eldar," spoke an Eldar warrior, as he emerged from the dense underbrush. Aelemar felt a surge of relief in him as he recognized the warrior's armor; a Striking Scorpion. Several more of the Scorpions emerged from behind the first one, weapons lowered as they realized that the Rangers were not an Imperial Guard patrol.

"We have delayed the mon-keigh at their city for as long as we could," Aelemar announced, "But we were overwhelmed and forced to fall back. How fares the Farseers in their efforts to close the gate?"

The Striking Scorpion's shoulders seemed to sag, and Aelemar could imagine that behind his helmet, the warrior was grimacing. "The Farseers are almost done closing the gate. Our Dark Kin will be denied access to this world, and in return, Craftworld Kaelor will not suffer the fury of the human battle fleets. However, this has come at a great price; ninety percent of our original force has been destroyed, the greatest loss our Craftworld has seen in decades." The Striking Scorpion unhooked his diamond-studded chain sword from his equipment belt and beckoned for the Rangers to follow him. "We shall make sure that the deaths of thousands of our kin have not been in vain."

As the Rangers and Striking Scorpions moved swiftly through the battlefield, the full scope of destruction became evident; charred husks of Imperial tanks and graceful Eldar Falcons now littered the area, their smoking ruins partially blocking out the sun's light. Thousands of human and Eldar bodies lay strewn together throughout the area, a testament to the ferocious fighting enacted by both sides. Craters from artillery blasts and bloody limbs, separated from their owners, littered the landscape, which seemed to be devoid of all life.

"The Imperials have fallen back to regroup," the Striking Scorpion explained, as they vaulted over a destroyed Eldar fortification. "The foolish mon-keigh seem to think that we are using the Warp-gate to transport troops to this world, when we are doing just the opposite by shutting it down. By the time they begin another assault, we should be finished with this business and on transport ships back to Kaelor."

As the Striking Scorpions and Rangers approached the Eldar defensive perimeter, Aelemar noticed a thin string of hastily constructed obstacles, housing many Eldar warriors behind them. Dominating the scene was the enormous Warp-gate, which the Farseers were busily trying to close down. The Warp-gate was surrounded by a hazy golden glow, and the sigils and runes carved on it were glowing brightly, a sign of its immense power and potential. With the exception of the Farseers' chanting, the entire area was still. The Eldar stood completely silent behind their last defensive positions, quietly observing as the Striking Scorpions and Rangers finally made it back to the Eldar position.

As soon as the Rangers and Striking Scorpions had made it safely back into the Eldar fortifications, the Warp-gate began to emit a high-pitched whining noise. Heads turned to watch as the Farseers struggled to control the gate's power. As the sigils and runes on the Warp-gate flashed and blinked dangerously, a rumbling that that rolled over the entire congregation was heard, emanating from the gate. The Farseers were swaying, still chanting and making arcane runes and symbols in the air.

Another loud rumbling from the distance, followed by explosions only yards away from the Eldar position, added to the Warp-gate's sound, as the Imperial Guard resumed their counter attack. Focus returned abruptly to the Eldar warriors, determined to sell their lives as dearly as possible, as their enemies appeared. Hordes of Imperial Guard, escorting their smoke-belching tanks and crude walkers, descended upon the Eldar defense like a ravening plague. Las shots slammed into the wraithbone-constructed fortifications as the Eldar returned fire, shuriken shards ripping into the minimally armored Imperial Guard. Aelemar and his Rangers sought cover, their Camoleoline cloaks constantly changing hue to match their environment. Whipping out his Long Rifle, Aelemar carefully tracked his target- an Imperial Commissar, before pulling the trigger, giving the human a quick and merciful death with a shot to the head. His Rangers responded in kind, unflinching even as las shots buzzed uncomfortably close around their heads.

The humans were closing with the Eldar. Several of the Aspect Warriors had been hit, but their armor protected most of them from death. The Eldar troops continued to put up a stiff wall of shuriken fire, supplemented by support battery platforms and the few remaining Falcon tanks. Hundreds of Guardsmen fell, slaughtered mercilessly by the Eldar war machine, only to be replaced by more. The Imperial tanks spat explosive death into the ranks of the Aspect Warriors, riveting the Eldar lines with red-hot fireballs and enormous explosions. Before the smoke had cleared from the exploded rounds, hundreds of humans streamed through, bayonets fixed, screaming and whooping as they charged towards the Eldar positions.

Abandoning their long range firepower and resorting to close combat, the Eldar's defense intensified into a desperate melee grapple as the first elements of the Imperial Guard assault force dueled with the Eldar in close combat. Striking Scorpions gracefully danced around their attackers, swinging their chain swords in whirring circles of destruction, while the psychic screams of the Howling Banshees tormented the mon-keigh troops, many of whom were crying in pain as their ear drums ruptured in spools of blood. The Dire Avengers, not as well equipped for close combat but still vastly superior to their human opponents, beat down guardsmen after guardsmen without mercy with the butt of their Avenger Catapults.

As Aelemar was searching for a new target of opportunity, a psychic bolt of energy lashed out, frying an entire platoon of Guardsmen in a frenzy of energy and power. Energized, Aelemar looked up- and saw the Farseers brandishing their Witchblades and Singing Spears, lashing out at the mon-keigh with psychic energy. They had managed to close the Warp-gate! Almost as soon as he realized this, a shadow fell across the battlefield. Aelemar looked upwards- and saw a small group of swift Eldar ships already descending to rescue as many survivors as possible. The Eldar had abandoned their close combat struggle and had already begun their retreat into the spacecraft, firing wildly as they ran. The Rangers abandoned their position, running quickly toward the nearest craft, feeling a wave of relief and hope that they might actually survive.

Sprinting as fast as he could towards the nearest craft, Aelemar yelled encouragement to his squad. After all they had endured on this miserable mon-keigh planet, they still might have a chance of survival! Aelemar glanced quickly over his shoulder to make sure that his squad was following- and froze in horror. In terrifyingly slow-motion, he saw a shell fired from an Imperial tank, flying high in the air, shrieking loudly as it began its descent. Aelemar screamed wildly to his Rangers to take cover, but they were too late; the explosion tossed Aelemar aside like a rag doll as he desperately tried to jump away from the blast.

A wave of heat passed over him as he was hurled bodily through the air. Landing with a thump, Aelemar groaned in pain as his head slammed into the ground. His mind spinning from the shell-shock, Aelemar felt oddly weak and numb as he tried to get up. Stumbling, he tasted blood in his mouth and felt a pool of bile in the back of his throat, as he fell onto his hands and knees. He felt a pair of strong hands grab his shoulders, pulling him away from the battle and the carnage. Everything was moving so slow for him. He observed with cold detachment the mutilated bodies of hundreds of Eldar and humans, watched in slow motion as las shots whizzed past his face. He tried to say something, but his tongue felt oddly heavy- he wanted to ask the Eldar who were pulling him where his Rangers were. Eyes drooping, Aelemar tried one last time to look around for his squad, but the only thing he could see was an impenetrable darkness, a fog clouding his vision.

So, how was it? Not too bad, I hope. Chapter 2 will be up soon, read and review!