Disclaimer: Warhammer, Warhammer 40k and all related names and characters
belong to Games Workshop. No infringement intended. No profit made--these
stories are purely for reader enjoyment. That means that all the other
characters introduced in this story are my own creations as are any changes
made to the Warhammer universes. Let's just get to the story.
Twilight's Crossing
by Karandras
Chapter 2
Tall green grass covered the sloping hills that overlooked Yamsa plains. Sparse collections of long leaf trees littered the lush hills providing some amount of cover for anyone crossing, in this case being four deftly cloaked Eldar path-finders and one grim looking Harlequin.
The quartet of Eldar moved with speed as well as caution which could definitely not be said for the Harlequin known as Karhaedron.
He skipped frivolously from side to side while singing in a twisted singsong voice, "Oh we're off to kill the mon keigh. The pesky creatures infesting our skies. They spread, they fight, they defile and kill. Oh my, I guess we'll just have to shed their blood all over these hills!"
Laughing insanely and softly to himself, he hummed to himself as he somersaulted alongside the path-finders.
Athan'bane turned to Karthanmor and whispered to him when he thought Karhaedron could not hear, "Sire I think this Solitaire is a few soulstones short of a full circuit."
"I agree with Athan, this Karhaedron seems just too......happy. He does not seem like any normal Harlequin or as normal as they can get." Whispered Vandrimir, sneaking a glance as the dancing Solitaire.
"Guuuuyyyssss! We're finally here!" Karhaedron said in a gleeful voice. Pointing down from the top of the hill where they stood to the bloody battle raging below.
"Shut up Karhaedron before you draw any of them to us." Karthanmor said as he unslung his long rifle along with the others.
Below them about a klick from the base of the hill was the Imperial encampment under siege. The encroachment of the foul spawn of Chaos threatened to destroy the last vestige of Imperial presence on this world which would be a good thing were it not for the fact that the taint of Chaos would remain and spread here.
Disgust soured Karthanmor's mouth as he realized the choices he had. Let the Chaos scum destroy the Imperial forces here or aid the Imperial mon keigh in destroying their age old foe.
He knew the choice he would make as he lower his long rifle into his sights. Azu Soku Zan allowed for no exceptions and this case being one that he must aid the Imperial forces in ridding this world of the taint that is Chaos.
"Look! Khorne Berserkers! I haven't fought them in such a looooong time!" Karhaedron said in a cheery voice, pointing to a squad of bloodthirsty red armoured clad figures hacking apart one of the Catachan command squads.
"Damn! They saw you fool!" Athan'bane snarled, leveling his long rifle and taking aim at the squad of twenty Khorne berserkers diverting course to charge at them. The others took aim and fired with as if Asuryan's hand was guiding their rounds. Four of the berserkers dropped, smoking holes in their helmets as blood dripped on the inside where the brains were splattered from the shots.
"There's too many of them. And they are moving with unholy speed." Vandrimir said, gritting his teeth as he shot off another high speed round. The berserker merely shrugged off the shot the ripped one of his two hearts into pieces and shrieked psychotically.
Reaching the base of the hill, the khornites began to ascend with great speed, ranting about creating a shrine of Eldar skulls for Khorne.
Suddenly the lead berserker exploded in a shower of bone, guts and blood causing some of the nearby khornites to erupt in the same disgusting manner. Karthanmor looked up to see Karhaedron standing over him with a shuriken pistol out, a huge cheshire cat grin plastered on the holographic facemask.
"Bio-explosive ammunition" He said in a jovial tone of voice. "Neat huh?"
"Oh boy! I'm going to have alot of fun today!" Karhaedron said, brandishing his weapons to the incoming khornites. Standing still for mere moments allowed Karthanmor and the others to see what the Solitaire truly carried for weapons.
Strapped to his right forearm was a thin sharpened tube known as the Harlequin's Kiss and on both forearms were a pair of powerblades, the blades curving back and over his elbows. Each blade emitted a light blue aura around it. The Solitaire wore a strange looking belt that resembled a device that Elthandeorn had once saw centuries ago called a Phase field.
In his right hand, he carried his shuriken pistol and in the left was a single edged curved blade. In tandem, it was a perfect combination of dealing death. Suited to Karhaedron's way of fighting.
"Well I'm off! Don't wait up for me." He said, phasing out of realspace and reappearing in the midst of the Khorne berserkers. Laughing maniacally he tore through their numbers with ease.
The khornite's armour meant nothing as a slash of the Solitaire's powersword disarmed an axe wielding berserker....literally as the sweeping blow of the powerblades that followed cut the khornite in half.
Turning with amazing speed, Karhaedron blocked a halberd swing at his torso and swiftly spun to block two sword blows coming in from opposite directions. With a gurgle the halberd wielding khornite fell to the ground with a hole through his power armoured chest that looked as if someone sliced in into him.
Thrusting his sword forward, he stabbed yet another berserker through the throat. His holographic facemask changing to a giant yellow smiley face before withdrawing his sword, in the process sending the powerblade tip through the head of a khornite behind him. With a quick twist of his torso, he carried off the head of both berserkers.
Distracted for a few moments by this amusing 'dance' he failed to notice another khorne berserker behind him until the sword was being thrusted at him. Barely dodging, Karhaedron could feel his lifeblood seeping down his suit as the sword cut across his chest and then spun away in the opposite direction.
"Heh heh heh. That was fun! It's been a while since anyone's been able to hit me like that!" Karhaedron said in his cheerful twisted tone of voice, "How about a Kiss?"
Running at the berserker he lunged down and past the khornite, just barely a few inches away from losing his head in the horizontal stroke, and into a crouching position. Turning swiftly he slashed his powerblades across the back of the marine's kneecaps, causing him to toppled backwards as Karhaedron leapt to the side to avoid being crushed.
His holographic facemask changed again into a happy mocking grin with what appeared to be lipstick on grin and happy-go-lucky eyes.
"Pucker up." He said in a not very sane cheery voice. Lifting his right forearm with the thin sharpened tube, he impaled the berserker with the Harlequin's Kiss watching with grim satisfaction as monofilament wires inside the tube uncoil and slice around the insides of the khornite.
After a few seconds of struggling, the khornite laid still as his internal organs were reduced to the consistency of soup with the skin and armour the only things holding the liquids inside from spilling out.
Looking around, Karhaedron realized that he already killed nearly all of the berserkers. The few that did survive were made into Insta'pincushions by the Eldar snipers.
With a sad almost bored tone of voice, he said to the corpses lying around him. "Awww, you dead."
*********************
Borvos the Skullsplitter stood at head of his terminator squad. Ten of them wearing night black terminator armour, the color scheme exactly like the Chaos marines fighting the Imperial forces. For ten millennia, Borvos has fought the false Emperor of Man donning the hulking tactical dreadnought suit, commonly referred to as terminator armour.
The heavy and cumbersome armour bristling with spikes and skulls gave Borvos and his squad the look of overgrown daemonic man shaped beetles, which was not far off from the truth.
Very few of them carried ranged weapons of any type, those few carrying only storm bolters. They all carried some type of close combat weapon ranging from power axes to halberds and scythes. Most carried two or even three close combat weapons, usually a pair of lightning claws attached to the back of their forehand while each hand gripped some foul corrupted fleshtearing weapon.
Thousands of years worshipping the powers of Chaos had twisted Borvos and his brethren into the creatures standing here today. Sharpened teeth protruded from their lips and blotched red livid scars writhed across their faces.
Choosing to wear no helmet so he can watch the Imperial troops die with pleasure, he surveyed the scene before him.
Numerous Rhinos had penetrated the Imperial lines, delivering their troops as the Khorne berserkers provided enough distraction for the rest of tactical squads to make it through moderately unscathed. Now it was turn for him to wreak a blood harvest among the puny humans.
Motioning his men to move forward, he halted when he caught a glimmer of swords being drawn and the melodious sounds of men dying be it Chaos marines or misguided Imperial lackeys.
Grinning malevolently, he pointed to the lone figure of a morbidly clad Eldar surrounded by the pathetic remains of some score of Khorne berserkers. Shimmering several metres back behind the Eldar was three shapes barely visible were it not for the blessings of Chaos he had tattooed to his body.
Fastening his lightning claws to his gauntlets, he looked into the reflection of his face off his axe. Mad crimson eyes stared back at him. Letting out a hiss of anticipation he licked the blade of his axe with his tongue, enjoying the taste of his own blood in his mouth as the finely honed blade sliced into soft tender flesh.
As he and his terminators stalked quietly to where the Eldar stood, he bared his bloodstained teeth. A little Eldar flesh would be a nice appetizer before the main course. Imperial flesh always tasted delicious to him especially when drenched in fear.
*********************
Athan'bane was just crouching there with his mouth open. He was unsure which was crazier, speed freek orks or Karhaedron. Right now, he was leaning alot towards Karhaedron.
"Dear lord, what is he?" Loren'galiel breathed as he warily eyed the immobile Harlequin.
As if hearing his question the Harlequin turned to face L Vandrimir, his head cocked to the side before his face changed into a burst of rainbow colors and swirling smile.
"That was fun, don't you think? A few of them were really good fighters." The solitaire said in his oh-so cheery tone, walking towards the path-finders again.
"Come over here, Karhaedron." Eldorath said, waving the wounded Eldar over to him. "We need to patch you up. I can't let you going around with an open wound like that. Who knows what foul curses were placed on their weapons."
"Tis but a flesh wound." Karhaedron said in a playful tone of voice, mocking an accent commonly found amongst Imperial guardsmen.
"Yes...that 'flesh' wound as you call it looks deep and you're starting to bleed on us." Eldorath responded.
Looking down, he noticed that he was indeed bleeding profusely and onto them. A sudden pang of dizziness hit Karhaedron like a crash of sauradons causing him to stumble abit before tripping. Falling, he lost conciousness....right on Eldorath, who at the time was trying to close the long gnash on Karhaedron's chest.
Being a former Healer, an Eldar who used his psychic ability for purely healing purposes, Eldorath took out a small gem with a rune engraved on it and placed it on the center of the slash. Using a combination of psycho-technic and psycho-conductive techniques, he slowly healed the blade wound until nothing was left to show that he was wounded in the first place, not even a scar.
All the while as Eldorath worked precariously on the solitaire, Karhaedron proved to be an uncooperative patient even when unconscious. Tossing and turning and making soft comments such as "Mmmm....that feels niiice" whenever the frustrated former healer placed his hands on the solitaire to examine the wound.
Meanwhile Vandrimir and Athan'bane were laughing hysterically. It was an odd sight to see three centuries year old Eldar in such a way, one handling a deadly warrior with the demeanor of a child and the other two on the verge of tears. There was just one problem though.....
Coughing furiously, Athan'bane tried to stop laughing and concentrate on breathing. Wiping tears from his eyes, he looked around before straightening in panic.
"Guys? Where'd Karthanmor go?" The younger path-finder asked cautiously to his companions.
The other two stopped what they were doing to scan the surrounding area but were interupted as bolter fire puffed up dirt in a narrow line between them. Too close for comfort.
"For the Warmaster!!!" Bellowed a deep voice on the verge of psychosis. The ground shook under the stampede of charging Chaos Terminators.
A flash of rusted plasteel caught Athan'bane's eye. He barely had time to turn around, his hand gripped around his shuriken pistol. Raising it an a desperate attempt to block the down swing of the sword that sever him in half, he realized he was too late to block the sword.
*********************
Memories flashed through his head. Dozens, hundreds at a time zipping through from the time of his birth four hundred and fifty years ago to right now shone in his eyes.
Memories of his early childhood, the fun he had with his brothers and parents. The days before the attack came.
He remembered when he was only 100 years old, barely an adolescent, running as fast as his little feet could carry him. Running to his home to warn his parents, to save them from the Nurgle Cult Terminators who were slaughtering the Eldar settlement.
Running blindly through the woods, pine needles and small branches whipping in his face, he eventually reached his wraithbone home. Dread filled him as he saw the door sliced open and smoking pouring out from a hole in the roof. Tears filled his eyes as he ran to his destroyed home, praying to Isha that his family was still alive.
"Mama! Papa!" He called out into the desolate home, "Mama! Papa! Where are you?"
Stumbling around, tears blurring his vision, young Athan'bane searched for any clue to the whereabouts of his parents or his brothers.
Chairs had been knocked over, tables upturned but the tell-tale smell of blood told him violence had been done here.
The bookcase where his father would spend many a night reading to him and his brothers about the mythological Eldar hero Eldanesh. Still warm soup simmered on the kitchen counter, his mother must have just finished making dinner when this happened.
Rounding a table, he found the clues he was looking for....
"NOOOO!!!" He screamed, running to the decaying corpses of his mother and father. He fell to his knees and cried. He cried for them, for his youngest brother who's chaos infected corpse was cradle in their dead mother's arms. He had lost everything his home, his family, his life.
"Nooo....." He cried pitifully, "Don't leave me....I don't want to be alone.."
Tears fell to the floor as he stared depressingly into his father's eyes. A defiant glint remained there as his body shielded the mother and baby in death as it had in life.
A croaking voice spoke up from behind him, "Don't worry little boy. You'll be joining them soon enough."
Athan'bane turned around, his eyes red from crying and tears still shoning in them.
A seven foot tall human stood a the door. Vomit green colour his armour and his face was bloated with disease. In his hand, he hand a short sword covered in filth and blessed by the Chaos god, Nurgle. The plague marine smiled at him, showing rotted teeth and bare bone where gums should be.
"GO ON! KILL ME!" He yelled at the plague marine. Lowering his voice to a meeker tone he quietly said to himself, "I don't have anything to live for now."
A sadistic grin appeared on the decaying face of the plague marine and he stepped forward, sword raised to deliver the final blow. The sword came down, a glint of pleasure appearing in the plague marine's eyes which quickly turned into surprised as he was sent flying forward into the wall back beyond the young child.
At the doorway stood an figure covered in greenish black robes with a hooded cameleoline cloak flapping in the breeze. He carried only a long rifle slung over his shoulders. A veil covered the lower half of his face which outlined a respirator but it was the figure's eyes that drew Athan'bane's attention.
The figure's eyes were crackling with psychic energy as if he was barely containing his rage.
"Leave the boy alone." The figure said, his voice menacing and cold. "Fight me instead Chaos scum."
Growling, the plague marine got up, wiping some blood from his mouth. "You'll pay for that puny man. I'll send your soul as a sacrifice to Lord Nurgle!" With that, he went from a crouching motion to a full frontal charge.
The figure made no attempt to dodge instead he threw his right hand forward as if to punch the plague marine. A burst of psychic energy the size of his body shot from his hand, colliding with the plague marine and forcing him to his knees.
Spitting out blood, the plague marine forced some words through clenched teeth. "Why...are...you....here?" He asked while slowly reaching for his bolt pistol.
The plague marine fell to the ground dead, 6 shuriken rounds lodged deep within his skull from the shuriken pistol that mysteriously appeared in the stranger's hand.
"Aku. Soku. Zan." The stranger whispered softly.
Placing away his weapons, the stranger walked over to and knelt by the young weeping child. No longer was the man's eyes white with psychic energy but a gentle hazel brown. "Are you hurt child?" He asked gently to the boy.
No response.
Sighing, the figure stood up and took off his veill, revealing in the process long pointy ears that marked him as an Eldar. Offering his hand to the young boy, he said in a sad but gentle tone. "Come child, there's nothing for you here anymore. There's nothing for any of us here now."
Slowly Athan'bane looked up into the stranger's eyes, saw the genuine concern for him and he was touched by it. He reached up and took the stranger's hand as he was helped up off the ground.
The stranger turned to go and beckoned Athan'bane to follow. Moving alongside the figure, he looked up curiously into the hooded face. The stranger noticed this and asked him, "What's your name?"
"I'm Athan'bane, sir." He replied in a sad voice that had a hint of hope to it. The stranger stopped and turned to the young Athan'bane, the respirator removed to reveal a warm smile. "Well Athan'bane, I am Karthanmor of the Alaitoc Path-finders."
Tears flowed in Athan'bane's eyes as he recalled that memory. Happy that he met that man to whom he owed everything, the man who treated him like a son and he treated as if he were a second father.
*********************
Time flowed normally again, the blade came flashing down....and hit the soft grass. For a minute, Athan'bane thought the terminator had missed. Looking again he saw that the stroke was perfect, something had shot off the sword blade mere centimeters above the hilt.
Before the chaos terminator could even recover from the shock, a burst of intense heat swept around him. Screaming in agony, he took a step forward before armour, bone and flesh melted into a pool of disgusting liquids at Athan'bane's feet.
Athan'bane turned quickly to see Karthanmor walking out of some bushes several dozen paces back, his hand gripping the long rifle as if it was a pistol and held out to fire another deadly sniper round. Behind him emerged lithe armoured figures clad in the colors of flame.
"Sire!" He cried in surprise and happiness.
Bearing short stubby guns with a medium length conical head known as Fusion guns, they fired bursts of super-heated air into the forms of the charging heretics.
"Fire Dragons!" Athan'bane shouted to the others as the deadly aspect warriors trained in the art of bringing death through fire rained shot after shot of burning air. Karthanmor's respirator gleamed in the bathing glow of the fusion guns as his second well aimed shot clipped off a power axe at the hilt, the round continuing on to slice through the right elbow, severing numerous tendons there.
Their assault continued though as they screamed wanton prayers to their patron god, Khorne. His blessings to his children allowed them to pass through the barrage of scalding air relatively unscathed to reach the Fire Dragons in bloody melee.
Though trained to fight in close range, Fire Dragons are not meant to fight in close combat save for their exarch. The full squad of ten Fire Dragons soon fell to seven then six as their armour did little to stop the cleaving blades. Though his men fell, the exarch fought on with seething anger.
The Fire Dragon exarch only looked harmless with his firepike, whose range far exceeded that of the fusion gun but the weapon itself was twice as long, he fought vigorously, using his firepike as a staff.
Spinning and twirling around almost as graceful as that of a Harlequin, the exarch thwapped a chaos terminator hard across the chest. Growling with intense hatred, he clenched his right hand. Athan'bane watched in amazement as flames started to swirl around the fist before the exarch threw a lightning fast punch that tore through the terminator helmet with ease.
Flames engulfed the head as the exarch withdrew his fist, letting the nearly decapitated body fall to the ground with an audible thud. Athan'bane had only heard of such a thing, the Fire Dragon skill that only their exarchs may learn: the Burning Fist.
Swiftly turning the exarch drew an unseen fire axe, an ancient power weapon whose special design allows the wielder to strike with even greater strength, blocking a slashing lightning claw.
But even with his ferocity, the Fire Dragons were being quickly overwhelmed as their efforts could only slow the twisted humans.
Suddenly a familiar buzzing sound filled the air. Nearly a dozen green armoured clad Eldar charged through the bushes, chainswords held high and shuriken pistols letting loose silent death. These Eldar were different from other Eldar as they were more muscularly built in order to wear their heavy armour. Their helmets were curved back in the shape of a scorpion's tail and at either side of the helmet was an pincer shaped lasweapon known as mandiblasters.
Jumping into the fray, they fought off the deadly terminators with fanatical rage. Sword met chainsword. Axe met a hail of laser shots from the mandiblasters. Sharp, cracking noise filled the air as needle thin shards jammed between armour slots acting as conductors for the highly charged laser blasts that came mere milliseconds later.
Chainswords carved through the tactical dreadnought suits as the serrated blades screamed for more. The most fearsome of all these Striking Scorpions was their exarch.
Clad in dark greenish black armour, he held a shuriken pistol in his right hand and on his back in its sheathe was the biting blade. Long braided black/silver hair came out from the back of his helmet.
His most feared asset though was his left hand which was encased in a powered claw shape glove. The three taloned claws separated the 4 fingers and thumbs into each claw. The thumb in the first claw, the trigger finger and middle in the second claw and the last two fingers in the third. A shuriken catapult was grafted to the back of the claw.
The weapon, known as the Scorpion's Claw, was thick and had a hazy blue aura around it and looked as if it could easily crushed a man's head.
Running into the melee the Striking Scorpion exarch, Dalamir, turned his head to face his foe. Psychically linked mandiblasters blasted into the terminator's helmet, having little effect aside from temporarily blinding him. It was enough though as Dalamir reached inside himself for the strength to perform a skill of the Striking Scorpion exarchs.
Reaching forward, he enclosed the terminator's helmeted face with the Scorpion's Claw and closed his fist. Blood oozed out of the helmet and onto his power claw as the skull caved in onto the brain, killing the chaos heretic almost instantly but not painlessly.
The unbreakable terminators were then broken, unable to stand up against such firepower. Some retreated, the smart ones atleast. Borvos was one of those few who saw that it was better to run to fight another day rather than die to some pointy eared aliens. Taking with him two other terminators, they ran unlike many Imperial guardsmen of French ancestry: at moderate speed, not screaming like little girls and with dignity.
The remaining four terminators were only vaguely aware of their leader's retreat, engrossed as they were in the bloodshed.
One terminator punched forward, his lightning claws impaling a poor Striking Scorpion. With sadistic glee, the terminator reached forward with his other hand and pulled off the scorpion's helmet, enjoying the look of horror on his victim's face. Baring his long sharpened fangs, he bit into the Eldar's throat and then viciously tore away, ripping out the man's jugular.
Turning the terminator smiled at the other striking scorpions with an open grin, Eldar blood pouring from his mouth as the corpse slid off his claws. The remaining striking scorpions fell back from the disgusting display of savagery.
Laughing maliciously, the terminator stalked towards the striking scorpions. Gurgling, he felt his neck to see blood spilling out from a well placed sniper round. Looking dumbly at the Eldar, he saw the lone Eldar path-finder who led the aspect warriors here. No grin, no words of damnation for the terminator.
Karthanmor fired another shot.
The terminator's head snapped back as the round pierced his brain between his eyes. Even as he fell forward, another shot penetrated his thick armour and tore a rather large hole through his primary heart. The force of the second shot counter-balanced the fall and the dead corpse began to fall to the side. A third shot found its mark in the second heart of the terminator and it fell back at the feet of its comrades, tongue hanging loosely out of the bloody mouth.
Karthanmor took a step forward, rifle raised and aimed. "Chaos is not welcomed here. Aku Soku Zan."
*********************
Borvos ran as fast as his instincts for self-preservation would take him. Trailing behind him were the last two terminators, following their brave leader away from the Eldar forces. A loud crackling explosion rumbled from behind him and he took the risk to glance back to see what had happened.
The three remaining terminators who foolishly chose to stay and fight were just.... standing there. Electrical sparks played up and down their armour as auxiliary sytems were overloaded by the electro-magnetic burst of a haywire grenade. Small explosions rippled across the beetlelike armour of the chaos terminators.
The mighty fell terminators of Chaos stood immobile, helpless as a newborn kitten to the merciless onslaught of the Eldar aspect warriors. They died in mindnumbing agony, the firepike rained molten rock down unto them. Luquid magma ate through the thick exo-armor to reach the soft flesh underneath.
Borvos turned back to the task at hand, back to the blood orgy of human bloodletting. A pitifully wailing arose from behind him and stopped dead in his tracks to see what had happened. One of his two remaining terminators was screaming hysterically as a blinding white ball of plasma consumed his body from the torso up.
'Fool!" He spat out to the dying chaos marine but was wondering how such a thing had reached him from such a distance. Another blood curdling scream came from the other terminator who clutched his arm only to have it burn away from the extreme heat of a plasma shard. He too fell to the ground, body flailing in incredible pain before all movement stopped.
The mark of Chaos Undivided tattooed across his back glowed underneath the suit as his enhanced vision allowed him see a single Eldar path-finder standing at the top of the hill aiming the long rifle in his direction.
The Eldar aspect warriors were tending to their own wounded and dead, retrieving spirit stones to place into the craftworld's infinity matrix. As for the other three rangers and the harlequin he spotted before, they were had overcome their shock and were aiding with the wounded.
A flash of light blinked out of existence and Borvos found himself instinctively raising his arm. A shard deflected off the eight pointed star of Chaos on his arm guard, which was a mirror copy of the mark on his back.
Two more shots came in hard and fast but he deflected them as well, his eyes faintly glowing blood red. Karthanmor seeing the futility in wasting more shots so he lowered his rifle.
Seeing this Borvos relaxed abit. Raising his fist towards Karthanmor, he spoke softly to the Eldar quite some distance away his words carried by the wind. "We'll meet again some day Eldar."
With those final words, he turned his back and ran towards the massacre of Imperial troops.
*********************
(A/N: From now on, I'll switch back and forth between path-finders and rangers since they are essentially the same thing. The only difference is that path-finders have been rangers for centuries.)
Twilight's Crossing
by Karandras
Chapter 2
Tall green grass covered the sloping hills that overlooked Yamsa plains. Sparse collections of long leaf trees littered the lush hills providing some amount of cover for anyone crossing, in this case being four deftly cloaked Eldar path-finders and one grim looking Harlequin.
The quartet of Eldar moved with speed as well as caution which could definitely not be said for the Harlequin known as Karhaedron.
He skipped frivolously from side to side while singing in a twisted singsong voice, "Oh we're off to kill the mon keigh. The pesky creatures infesting our skies. They spread, they fight, they defile and kill. Oh my, I guess we'll just have to shed their blood all over these hills!"
Laughing insanely and softly to himself, he hummed to himself as he somersaulted alongside the path-finders.
Athan'bane turned to Karthanmor and whispered to him when he thought Karhaedron could not hear, "Sire I think this Solitaire is a few soulstones short of a full circuit."
"I agree with Athan, this Karhaedron seems just too......happy. He does not seem like any normal Harlequin or as normal as they can get." Whispered Vandrimir, sneaking a glance as the dancing Solitaire.
"Guuuuyyyssss! We're finally here!" Karhaedron said in a gleeful voice. Pointing down from the top of the hill where they stood to the bloody battle raging below.
"Shut up Karhaedron before you draw any of them to us." Karthanmor said as he unslung his long rifle along with the others.
Below them about a klick from the base of the hill was the Imperial encampment under siege. The encroachment of the foul spawn of Chaos threatened to destroy the last vestige of Imperial presence on this world which would be a good thing were it not for the fact that the taint of Chaos would remain and spread here.
Disgust soured Karthanmor's mouth as he realized the choices he had. Let the Chaos scum destroy the Imperial forces here or aid the Imperial mon keigh in destroying their age old foe.
He knew the choice he would make as he lower his long rifle into his sights. Azu Soku Zan allowed for no exceptions and this case being one that he must aid the Imperial forces in ridding this world of the taint that is Chaos.
"Look! Khorne Berserkers! I haven't fought them in such a looooong time!" Karhaedron said in a cheery voice, pointing to a squad of bloodthirsty red armoured clad figures hacking apart one of the Catachan command squads.
"Damn! They saw you fool!" Athan'bane snarled, leveling his long rifle and taking aim at the squad of twenty Khorne berserkers diverting course to charge at them. The others took aim and fired with as if Asuryan's hand was guiding their rounds. Four of the berserkers dropped, smoking holes in their helmets as blood dripped on the inside where the brains were splattered from the shots.
"There's too many of them. And they are moving with unholy speed." Vandrimir said, gritting his teeth as he shot off another high speed round. The berserker merely shrugged off the shot the ripped one of his two hearts into pieces and shrieked psychotically.
Reaching the base of the hill, the khornites began to ascend with great speed, ranting about creating a shrine of Eldar skulls for Khorne.
Suddenly the lead berserker exploded in a shower of bone, guts and blood causing some of the nearby khornites to erupt in the same disgusting manner. Karthanmor looked up to see Karhaedron standing over him with a shuriken pistol out, a huge cheshire cat grin plastered on the holographic facemask.
"Bio-explosive ammunition" He said in a jovial tone of voice. "Neat huh?"
"Oh boy! I'm going to have alot of fun today!" Karhaedron said, brandishing his weapons to the incoming khornites. Standing still for mere moments allowed Karthanmor and the others to see what the Solitaire truly carried for weapons.
Strapped to his right forearm was a thin sharpened tube known as the Harlequin's Kiss and on both forearms were a pair of powerblades, the blades curving back and over his elbows. Each blade emitted a light blue aura around it. The Solitaire wore a strange looking belt that resembled a device that Elthandeorn had once saw centuries ago called a Phase field.
In his right hand, he carried his shuriken pistol and in the left was a single edged curved blade. In tandem, it was a perfect combination of dealing death. Suited to Karhaedron's way of fighting.
"Well I'm off! Don't wait up for me." He said, phasing out of realspace and reappearing in the midst of the Khorne berserkers. Laughing maniacally he tore through their numbers with ease.
The khornite's armour meant nothing as a slash of the Solitaire's powersword disarmed an axe wielding berserker....literally as the sweeping blow of the powerblades that followed cut the khornite in half.
Turning with amazing speed, Karhaedron blocked a halberd swing at his torso and swiftly spun to block two sword blows coming in from opposite directions. With a gurgle the halberd wielding khornite fell to the ground with a hole through his power armoured chest that looked as if someone sliced in into him.
Thrusting his sword forward, he stabbed yet another berserker through the throat. His holographic facemask changing to a giant yellow smiley face before withdrawing his sword, in the process sending the powerblade tip through the head of a khornite behind him. With a quick twist of his torso, he carried off the head of both berserkers.
Distracted for a few moments by this amusing 'dance' he failed to notice another khorne berserker behind him until the sword was being thrusted at him. Barely dodging, Karhaedron could feel his lifeblood seeping down his suit as the sword cut across his chest and then spun away in the opposite direction.
"Heh heh heh. That was fun! It's been a while since anyone's been able to hit me like that!" Karhaedron said in his cheerful twisted tone of voice, "How about a Kiss?"
Running at the berserker he lunged down and past the khornite, just barely a few inches away from losing his head in the horizontal stroke, and into a crouching position. Turning swiftly he slashed his powerblades across the back of the marine's kneecaps, causing him to toppled backwards as Karhaedron leapt to the side to avoid being crushed.
His holographic facemask changed again into a happy mocking grin with what appeared to be lipstick on grin and happy-go-lucky eyes.
"Pucker up." He said in a not very sane cheery voice. Lifting his right forearm with the thin sharpened tube, he impaled the berserker with the Harlequin's Kiss watching with grim satisfaction as monofilament wires inside the tube uncoil and slice around the insides of the khornite.
After a few seconds of struggling, the khornite laid still as his internal organs were reduced to the consistency of soup with the skin and armour the only things holding the liquids inside from spilling out.
Looking around, Karhaedron realized that he already killed nearly all of the berserkers. The few that did survive were made into Insta'pincushions by the Eldar snipers.
With a sad almost bored tone of voice, he said to the corpses lying around him. "Awww, you dead."
*********************
Borvos the Skullsplitter stood at head of his terminator squad. Ten of them wearing night black terminator armour, the color scheme exactly like the Chaos marines fighting the Imperial forces. For ten millennia, Borvos has fought the false Emperor of Man donning the hulking tactical dreadnought suit, commonly referred to as terminator armour.
The heavy and cumbersome armour bristling with spikes and skulls gave Borvos and his squad the look of overgrown daemonic man shaped beetles, which was not far off from the truth.
Very few of them carried ranged weapons of any type, those few carrying only storm bolters. They all carried some type of close combat weapon ranging from power axes to halberds and scythes. Most carried two or even three close combat weapons, usually a pair of lightning claws attached to the back of their forehand while each hand gripped some foul corrupted fleshtearing weapon.
Thousands of years worshipping the powers of Chaos had twisted Borvos and his brethren into the creatures standing here today. Sharpened teeth protruded from their lips and blotched red livid scars writhed across their faces.
Choosing to wear no helmet so he can watch the Imperial troops die with pleasure, he surveyed the scene before him.
Numerous Rhinos had penetrated the Imperial lines, delivering their troops as the Khorne berserkers provided enough distraction for the rest of tactical squads to make it through moderately unscathed. Now it was turn for him to wreak a blood harvest among the puny humans.
Motioning his men to move forward, he halted when he caught a glimmer of swords being drawn and the melodious sounds of men dying be it Chaos marines or misguided Imperial lackeys.
Grinning malevolently, he pointed to the lone figure of a morbidly clad Eldar surrounded by the pathetic remains of some score of Khorne berserkers. Shimmering several metres back behind the Eldar was three shapes barely visible were it not for the blessings of Chaos he had tattooed to his body.
Fastening his lightning claws to his gauntlets, he looked into the reflection of his face off his axe. Mad crimson eyes stared back at him. Letting out a hiss of anticipation he licked the blade of his axe with his tongue, enjoying the taste of his own blood in his mouth as the finely honed blade sliced into soft tender flesh.
As he and his terminators stalked quietly to where the Eldar stood, he bared his bloodstained teeth. A little Eldar flesh would be a nice appetizer before the main course. Imperial flesh always tasted delicious to him especially when drenched in fear.
*********************
Athan'bane was just crouching there with his mouth open. He was unsure which was crazier, speed freek orks or Karhaedron. Right now, he was leaning alot towards Karhaedron.
"Dear lord, what is he?" Loren'galiel breathed as he warily eyed the immobile Harlequin.
As if hearing his question the Harlequin turned to face L Vandrimir, his head cocked to the side before his face changed into a burst of rainbow colors and swirling smile.
"That was fun, don't you think? A few of them were really good fighters." The solitaire said in his oh-so cheery tone, walking towards the path-finders again.
"Come over here, Karhaedron." Eldorath said, waving the wounded Eldar over to him. "We need to patch you up. I can't let you going around with an open wound like that. Who knows what foul curses were placed on their weapons."
"Tis but a flesh wound." Karhaedron said in a playful tone of voice, mocking an accent commonly found amongst Imperial guardsmen.
"Yes...that 'flesh' wound as you call it looks deep and you're starting to bleed on us." Eldorath responded.
Looking down, he noticed that he was indeed bleeding profusely and onto them. A sudden pang of dizziness hit Karhaedron like a crash of sauradons causing him to stumble abit before tripping. Falling, he lost conciousness....right on Eldorath, who at the time was trying to close the long gnash on Karhaedron's chest.
Being a former Healer, an Eldar who used his psychic ability for purely healing purposes, Eldorath took out a small gem with a rune engraved on it and placed it on the center of the slash. Using a combination of psycho-technic and psycho-conductive techniques, he slowly healed the blade wound until nothing was left to show that he was wounded in the first place, not even a scar.
All the while as Eldorath worked precariously on the solitaire, Karhaedron proved to be an uncooperative patient even when unconscious. Tossing and turning and making soft comments such as "Mmmm....that feels niiice" whenever the frustrated former healer placed his hands on the solitaire to examine the wound.
Meanwhile Vandrimir and Athan'bane were laughing hysterically. It was an odd sight to see three centuries year old Eldar in such a way, one handling a deadly warrior with the demeanor of a child and the other two on the verge of tears. There was just one problem though.....
Coughing furiously, Athan'bane tried to stop laughing and concentrate on breathing. Wiping tears from his eyes, he looked around before straightening in panic.
"Guys? Where'd Karthanmor go?" The younger path-finder asked cautiously to his companions.
The other two stopped what they were doing to scan the surrounding area but were interupted as bolter fire puffed up dirt in a narrow line between them. Too close for comfort.
"For the Warmaster!!!" Bellowed a deep voice on the verge of psychosis. The ground shook under the stampede of charging Chaos Terminators.
A flash of rusted plasteel caught Athan'bane's eye. He barely had time to turn around, his hand gripped around his shuriken pistol. Raising it an a desperate attempt to block the down swing of the sword that sever him in half, he realized he was too late to block the sword.
*********************
Memories flashed through his head. Dozens, hundreds at a time zipping through from the time of his birth four hundred and fifty years ago to right now shone in his eyes.
Memories of his early childhood, the fun he had with his brothers and parents. The days before the attack came.
He remembered when he was only 100 years old, barely an adolescent, running as fast as his little feet could carry him. Running to his home to warn his parents, to save them from the Nurgle Cult Terminators who were slaughtering the Eldar settlement.
Running blindly through the woods, pine needles and small branches whipping in his face, he eventually reached his wraithbone home. Dread filled him as he saw the door sliced open and smoking pouring out from a hole in the roof. Tears filled his eyes as he ran to his destroyed home, praying to Isha that his family was still alive.
"Mama! Papa!" He called out into the desolate home, "Mama! Papa! Where are you?"
Stumbling around, tears blurring his vision, young Athan'bane searched for any clue to the whereabouts of his parents or his brothers.
Chairs had been knocked over, tables upturned but the tell-tale smell of blood told him violence had been done here.
The bookcase where his father would spend many a night reading to him and his brothers about the mythological Eldar hero Eldanesh. Still warm soup simmered on the kitchen counter, his mother must have just finished making dinner when this happened.
Rounding a table, he found the clues he was looking for....
"NOOOO!!!" He screamed, running to the decaying corpses of his mother and father. He fell to his knees and cried. He cried for them, for his youngest brother who's chaos infected corpse was cradle in their dead mother's arms. He had lost everything his home, his family, his life.
"Nooo....." He cried pitifully, "Don't leave me....I don't want to be alone.."
Tears fell to the floor as he stared depressingly into his father's eyes. A defiant glint remained there as his body shielded the mother and baby in death as it had in life.
A croaking voice spoke up from behind him, "Don't worry little boy. You'll be joining them soon enough."
Athan'bane turned around, his eyes red from crying and tears still shoning in them.
A seven foot tall human stood a the door. Vomit green colour his armour and his face was bloated with disease. In his hand, he hand a short sword covered in filth and blessed by the Chaos god, Nurgle. The plague marine smiled at him, showing rotted teeth and bare bone where gums should be.
"GO ON! KILL ME!" He yelled at the plague marine. Lowering his voice to a meeker tone he quietly said to himself, "I don't have anything to live for now."
A sadistic grin appeared on the decaying face of the plague marine and he stepped forward, sword raised to deliver the final blow. The sword came down, a glint of pleasure appearing in the plague marine's eyes which quickly turned into surprised as he was sent flying forward into the wall back beyond the young child.
At the doorway stood an figure covered in greenish black robes with a hooded cameleoline cloak flapping in the breeze. He carried only a long rifle slung over his shoulders. A veil covered the lower half of his face which outlined a respirator but it was the figure's eyes that drew Athan'bane's attention.
The figure's eyes were crackling with psychic energy as if he was barely containing his rage.
"Leave the boy alone." The figure said, his voice menacing and cold. "Fight me instead Chaos scum."
Growling, the plague marine got up, wiping some blood from his mouth. "You'll pay for that puny man. I'll send your soul as a sacrifice to Lord Nurgle!" With that, he went from a crouching motion to a full frontal charge.
The figure made no attempt to dodge instead he threw his right hand forward as if to punch the plague marine. A burst of psychic energy the size of his body shot from his hand, colliding with the plague marine and forcing him to his knees.
Spitting out blood, the plague marine forced some words through clenched teeth. "Why...are...you....here?" He asked while slowly reaching for his bolt pistol.
The plague marine fell to the ground dead, 6 shuriken rounds lodged deep within his skull from the shuriken pistol that mysteriously appeared in the stranger's hand.
"Aku. Soku. Zan." The stranger whispered softly.
Placing away his weapons, the stranger walked over to and knelt by the young weeping child. No longer was the man's eyes white with psychic energy but a gentle hazel brown. "Are you hurt child?" He asked gently to the boy.
No response.
Sighing, the figure stood up and took off his veill, revealing in the process long pointy ears that marked him as an Eldar. Offering his hand to the young boy, he said in a sad but gentle tone. "Come child, there's nothing for you here anymore. There's nothing for any of us here now."
Slowly Athan'bane looked up into the stranger's eyes, saw the genuine concern for him and he was touched by it. He reached up and took the stranger's hand as he was helped up off the ground.
The stranger turned to go and beckoned Athan'bane to follow. Moving alongside the figure, he looked up curiously into the hooded face. The stranger noticed this and asked him, "What's your name?"
"I'm Athan'bane, sir." He replied in a sad voice that had a hint of hope to it. The stranger stopped and turned to the young Athan'bane, the respirator removed to reveal a warm smile. "Well Athan'bane, I am Karthanmor of the Alaitoc Path-finders."
Tears flowed in Athan'bane's eyes as he recalled that memory. Happy that he met that man to whom he owed everything, the man who treated him like a son and he treated as if he were a second father.
*********************
Time flowed normally again, the blade came flashing down....and hit the soft grass. For a minute, Athan'bane thought the terminator had missed. Looking again he saw that the stroke was perfect, something had shot off the sword blade mere centimeters above the hilt.
Before the chaos terminator could even recover from the shock, a burst of intense heat swept around him. Screaming in agony, he took a step forward before armour, bone and flesh melted into a pool of disgusting liquids at Athan'bane's feet.
Athan'bane turned quickly to see Karthanmor walking out of some bushes several dozen paces back, his hand gripping the long rifle as if it was a pistol and held out to fire another deadly sniper round. Behind him emerged lithe armoured figures clad in the colors of flame.
"Sire!" He cried in surprise and happiness.
Bearing short stubby guns with a medium length conical head known as Fusion guns, they fired bursts of super-heated air into the forms of the charging heretics.
"Fire Dragons!" Athan'bane shouted to the others as the deadly aspect warriors trained in the art of bringing death through fire rained shot after shot of burning air. Karthanmor's respirator gleamed in the bathing glow of the fusion guns as his second well aimed shot clipped off a power axe at the hilt, the round continuing on to slice through the right elbow, severing numerous tendons there.
Their assault continued though as they screamed wanton prayers to their patron god, Khorne. His blessings to his children allowed them to pass through the barrage of scalding air relatively unscathed to reach the Fire Dragons in bloody melee.
Though trained to fight in close range, Fire Dragons are not meant to fight in close combat save for their exarch. The full squad of ten Fire Dragons soon fell to seven then six as their armour did little to stop the cleaving blades. Though his men fell, the exarch fought on with seething anger.
The Fire Dragon exarch only looked harmless with his firepike, whose range far exceeded that of the fusion gun but the weapon itself was twice as long, he fought vigorously, using his firepike as a staff.
Spinning and twirling around almost as graceful as that of a Harlequin, the exarch thwapped a chaos terminator hard across the chest. Growling with intense hatred, he clenched his right hand. Athan'bane watched in amazement as flames started to swirl around the fist before the exarch threw a lightning fast punch that tore through the terminator helmet with ease.
Flames engulfed the head as the exarch withdrew his fist, letting the nearly decapitated body fall to the ground with an audible thud. Athan'bane had only heard of such a thing, the Fire Dragon skill that only their exarchs may learn: the Burning Fist.
Swiftly turning the exarch drew an unseen fire axe, an ancient power weapon whose special design allows the wielder to strike with even greater strength, blocking a slashing lightning claw.
But even with his ferocity, the Fire Dragons were being quickly overwhelmed as their efforts could only slow the twisted humans.
Suddenly a familiar buzzing sound filled the air. Nearly a dozen green armoured clad Eldar charged through the bushes, chainswords held high and shuriken pistols letting loose silent death. These Eldar were different from other Eldar as they were more muscularly built in order to wear their heavy armour. Their helmets were curved back in the shape of a scorpion's tail and at either side of the helmet was an pincer shaped lasweapon known as mandiblasters.
Jumping into the fray, they fought off the deadly terminators with fanatical rage. Sword met chainsword. Axe met a hail of laser shots from the mandiblasters. Sharp, cracking noise filled the air as needle thin shards jammed between armour slots acting as conductors for the highly charged laser blasts that came mere milliseconds later.
Chainswords carved through the tactical dreadnought suits as the serrated blades screamed for more. The most fearsome of all these Striking Scorpions was their exarch.
Clad in dark greenish black armour, he held a shuriken pistol in his right hand and on his back in its sheathe was the biting blade. Long braided black/silver hair came out from the back of his helmet.
His most feared asset though was his left hand which was encased in a powered claw shape glove. The three taloned claws separated the 4 fingers and thumbs into each claw. The thumb in the first claw, the trigger finger and middle in the second claw and the last two fingers in the third. A shuriken catapult was grafted to the back of the claw.
The weapon, known as the Scorpion's Claw, was thick and had a hazy blue aura around it and looked as if it could easily crushed a man's head.
Running into the melee the Striking Scorpion exarch, Dalamir, turned his head to face his foe. Psychically linked mandiblasters blasted into the terminator's helmet, having little effect aside from temporarily blinding him. It was enough though as Dalamir reached inside himself for the strength to perform a skill of the Striking Scorpion exarchs.
Reaching forward, he enclosed the terminator's helmeted face with the Scorpion's Claw and closed his fist. Blood oozed out of the helmet and onto his power claw as the skull caved in onto the brain, killing the chaos heretic almost instantly but not painlessly.
The unbreakable terminators were then broken, unable to stand up against such firepower. Some retreated, the smart ones atleast. Borvos was one of those few who saw that it was better to run to fight another day rather than die to some pointy eared aliens. Taking with him two other terminators, they ran unlike many Imperial guardsmen of French ancestry: at moderate speed, not screaming like little girls and with dignity.
The remaining four terminators were only vaguely aware of their leader's retreat, engrossed as they were in the bloodshed.
One terminator punched forward, his lightning claws impaling a poor Striking Scorpion. With sadistic glee, the terminator reached forward with his other hand and pulled off the scorpion's helmet, enjoying the look of horror on his victim's face. Baring his long sharpened fangs, he bit into the Eldar's throat and then viciously tore away, ripping out the man's jugular.
Turning the terminator smiled at the other striking scorpions with an open grin, Eldar blood pouring from his mouth as the corpse slid off his claws. The remaining striking scorpions fell back from the disgusting display of savagery.
Laughing maliciously, the terminator stalked towards the striking scorpions. Gurgling, he felt his neck to see blood spilling out from a well placed sniper round. Looking dumbly at the Eldar, he saw the lone Eldar path-finder who led the aspect warriors here. No grin, no words of damnation for the terminator.
Karthanmor fired another shot.
The terminator's head snapped back as the round pierced his brain between his eyes. Even as he fell forward, another shot penetrated his thick armour and tore a rather large hole through his primary heart. The force of the second shot counter-balanced the fall and the dead corpse began to fall to the side. A third shot found its mark in the second heart of the terminator and it fell back at the feet of its comrades, tongue hanging loosely out of the bloody mouth.
Karthanmor took a step forward, rifle raised and aimed. "Chaos is not welcomed here. Aku Soku Zan."
*********************
Borvos ran as fast as his instincts for self-preservation would take him. Trailing behind him were the last two terminators, following their brave leader away from the Eldar forces. A loud crackling explosion rumbled from behind him and he took the risk to glance back to see what had happened.
The three remaining terminators who foolishly chose to stay and fight were just.... standing there. Electrical sparks played up and down their armour as auxiliary sytems were overloaded by the electro-magnetic burst of a haywire grenade. Small explosions rippled across the beetlelike armour of the chaos terminators.
The mighty fell terminators of Chaos stood immobile, helpless as a newborn kitten to the merciless onslaught of the Eldar aspect warriors. They died in mindnumbing agony, the firepike rained molten rock down unto them. Luquid magma ate through the thick exo-armor to reach the soft flesh underneath.
Borvos turned back to the task at hand, back to the blood orgy of human bloodletting. A pitifully wailing arose from behind him and stopped dead in his tracks to see what had happened. One of his two remaining terminators was screaming hysterically as a blinding white ball of plasma consumed his body from the torso up.
'Fool!" He spat out to the dying chaos marine but was wondering how such a thing had reached him from such a distance. Another blood curdling scream came from the other terminator who clutched his arm only to have it burn away from the extreme heat of a plasma shard. He too fell to the ground, body flailing in incredible pain before all movement stopped.
The mark of Chaos Undivided tattooed across his back glowed underneath the suit as his enhanced vision allowed him see a single Eldar path-finder standing at the top of the hill aiming the long rifle in his direction.
The Eldar aspect warriors were tending to their own wounded and dead, retrieving spirit stones to place into the craftworld's infinity matrix. As for the other three rangers and the harlequin he spotted before, they were had overcome their shock and were aiding with the wounded.
A flash of light blinked out of existence and Borvos found himself instinctively raising his arm. A shard deflected off the eight pointed star of Chaos on his arm guard, which was a mirror copy of the mark on his back.
Two more shots came in hard and fast but he deflected them as well, his eyes faintly glowing blood red. Karthanmor seeing the futility in wasting more shots so he lowered his rifle.
Seeing this Borvos relaxed abit. Raising his fist towards Karthanmor, he spoke softly to the Eldar quite some distance away his words carried by the wind. "We'll meet again some day Eldar."
With those final words, he turned his back and ran towards the massacre of Imperial troops.
*********************
(A/N: From now on, I'll switch back and forth between path-finders and rangers since they are essentially the same thing. The only difference is that path-finders have been rangers for centuries.)
