Leafy8765: Imperial forces have worked with orks before, and certain clans, such as the Bloodaxes are eager to ally themselves with humans in order too obtain "humie" weapons. The astartes will no doubt hate the warcraft orcs, but he realizes that in order to accomplish a greater goal, he will have to work with them. As for the romance, you'll just have to read on to find out!
ArcherReborn2: Yes, there will be romance. It will be interesting to see how a space marine will react to an emotion many astartes regard as a weakness!
Emperor chronicler: There will be without a doubt more characters being introduced into the fiction, I have not decided on what race and gender per say, but rest assured they will be quite interesting! I have not thought out that far into the novel in regards to your question on gnomes producing Imperial weapons. So I actually don't know! If it serves well in the plot, then yes. If it doesn't, then no. As for Gnomeregan, our astartes will be very happy in cleansing what he will see as the work of Nurgle!
Souless reader: You'll have to read on to have your questions answered! One of the frustrating things about eldar, to me at least, is their inability to ally themselves with humanity. The Coven of Isha, though a good treaty, still does nothing when it comes to aiding each other military wise.
Skipper 1337: Hmmm… It has much more potential than becoming a threesome! *Wink wink nudge nudge!
Left hand turn signal: Thanks!
Deviate Fish: Our astartes will overpower many things, but not all!
Thanks for the reviews everyone!
Chapter 9
The Land Speeder, like all Standard Template Construct designs, is a pinnacle of human achievement with technology. It is ubiquitous among all chapters of Adeptus Astartes, valued highly for their ability to provide fast and heavy fire support where the situation demanded. It is also appreciated for its compatibility with a multitude of weapon systems, proved by the large range of variants for the vehicle. The standard Land Speeder carries only a single heavy bolter operated by the passenger, limiting its purpose to a general all around support unit. The Tornado variant mounts a twin-linked assault cannon under the nose, and hence is specialized at cutting through from anything wearing flak armor to the plasteel hulls of armored vehicles. The Typhoon is more proficient at neutralizing infantry with its two anti-personnel missile launchers, but understandably lacks the penetrating power of the Tornado's assault cannons. Rarer variants, such as the Storm, are also being utilized extensively, though their purpose is much more specialized. All in all, the Land Speeder was designed to be efficient and lethal.
In was not designed, however, to accommodate two quarrelling, xeno women who are hell bent on blaming the woes of their race upon each other.
"Clearly, your kind has never truly learned the lessons taught by the Great Sundering!" Keina hissed through clenched teeth.
"And your kind has never truly fathomed the gifts magic can give!" Vareesa, the xeno who attempted to sneak away with a few magazines of precious bolter shells yesterday, replies back angrily.
"What purpose does magic serve besides to corrupt?"
"Magic is a source of great power, as long as you can control it!"
"Where was this control when you Highborne destroyed our lands in the pursuit of power ten thousand years ago?!?"
"I'll have you know that many of the Highborne also fought against Sargeras and the Legion!"
"That may be so, but it does not alleviate the fact that magic is the sole root of our troubles!"
"Corrupted magic, yes! But not pure magic!"
"SHUT UP!!!" My roar of impatience startles the two elves to silence. My Lyman's ear is capable of filtering different sounds on a frequency level, and was the sole thing that kept me from going insane. However, even the organs that made me into an astartes have their limits, and the shouted words of the xenos were breaking into my concentration, showing just how heated their argument was.
"You two make more of a racket than a squad of Noise Marines," I grumble.
They stare at me blankly, clearly not understanding the metaphor I just made. I glare back at them, punctuating my words, before turning my attention back to controlling the Land Speeder. In that brief second, my augmented brain notes the differences between the two aliens, and deep in my conscience, I muse as I compare one with the other.
Both of them possess long ears, though less to an extent, with Vareesa. Whereas the night elf's ears are straight and thick, the blood elf's are delicately thin, fragile almost. That is to be expected for a species that split nearly ten millennia ago. From the brief history lesson Vareesa offered me, the ancestors of the kaldorei were the same as those of the sin'dorei, until a civil war erupted among the peasants and the nobles, caused by the arrival of the Chaos deity known as Sargeras. After the banishment of the warp god from their plane, the two factions split, the peasants remaining in their forests to toil their lands and the nobles leaving to find a place better suited for their decadent ways.
The disparity in their bodies was evidence of this schism in their history. Keina's form is tall and well muscled, well used to traversing the wilderness. Vareesa's figure is smaller, less pronounced, speaking of years of existence in civilized areas. The complexion of these elves also relates them to their environment. The night elf's face is purplish in color, wreathed with long blue hair, no doubt due to the lack of light in their dark forest homes. The blood elf's is almost human-like in appearance, blonde ponytail fluttering in the wind, unchanged from her forerunners.
I wonder if the Ordos Xenos will find this information interesting.
Keina was fuming. She was furious for one, a blood elf, descendant of the corrupted Highborne that caused the golden age of her people to end so abruptly, was strapped next to her in the giant's strange vehicle. Two, the sin'dorei felt no pang of guilt for the actions of the magically influenced, and had bickered with her on the subject, even going so far as to denounce the way of life of her people as "crude and filthy". Third, as much as Keina wanted to deny it, she felt a little resentful that the blood elf had interfered in what was supposed to be a mission between just Avarian and her.
The sentinel commander shot a look of reproach at the giant, hoping to convey to him her displeasure. She might as well just stared at a rock. Avarian's attention was focused solely on piloting the Land Speeder, and paid no heed to her annoyance. Keina sighed a little, settling back into the rather uncomfortable metal seat that she was forced to share. The only good part of this trip was when the god had chastised the blood elf, Vareesa she called herself, when they first met. The sin'dorei had balked at the sight of the night elf, and pouted to the giant, refusing to sit next to "a tree loving, bark worshipping amazon". Avarian had promptly pointed the barrels of his enormous gun at the blood elf, and offered to resolve the situation in another, albeit bloodier, fashion. The haste in which Vareesa jumped into the vehicle was quite amusing.
Keina squinted her eyes a little against the wind. They were nearing their destination, evidenced by the increasing number of ruins that passed by them. The sentinel captain's heart grew heavy at the sight. This place was formerly a glorious and beautiful temple dedicated to Elune, until the Sundering shattered the earth and plunged the shrine beneath the seas. Now, it is known as Blackfathom Deeps, a mockery of what it once was.
"We are here," Keina tried to erase the sorrow from her voice.
The giant gave no indication he heard, but the Land Speeder began to lose speed.
The smell of cordite fills the cavern as my bolter coughs another burst of shells into the daemons, their bodies erupting into gory flowers of shredded flesh and splintered bones. They don't get a chance to scream. The death that comes for them is quick and merciless. Before they realize the mist of blood in the air is their own, or the spurting viscera belong to them, the reaper's scythe has already struck them down.
I smile in satisfaction. This was what I was made for. Molded by the Emperor himself into the perfect, fighting machine. I am efficient, wasting no ammunition on already incapacitated opponents. I am terrifying, striding towards my foes like a god, their ineffective weapons clanging off my armor. I am deadly, spraying accurate shots that kill and maim with startling speed. This is it. No more lies and deceit. No more eldar trickery. I lose myself in the flow of battle.
A satyr leaps forward, a wicked scimitar raised high to strike. I blast it apart in midair, spraying the area around me with bloody chunks. Another shrieks a foul battle cry, thrusting a crude polearm towards my chest. An exploding round flings it from its feet, and sends its corpse tumbling away into a puddle of groundwater. The pool turns black from polluted ichor. A third daemon rushes toward my side, trying to get behind me, where it can use its twin daggers to what it hopes will be fatal effect. My fist backhands the satyr and crushes the notion as well as the thing's skull. It flies sideways, where the rocky wall of the cave arrests its motion with a sickening crunch.
My visor determines there are no more hostiles within the vicinity. How can there be when I've killed them all? I am disappointed. These foes were of no challenge. They break too easily. My boots stomp forward, grinding minor pebbles into dirt.
I am distracted by the lithe form of Vareesa, drifting through the bodies of the slaughtered satyrs as though if looking for something. She bends down and rifles through a small haversack, stained dark by its owner's life fluid. Her agile hands quickly pluck a few gold coins from the pack, before depositing it in her own bag fastened to her belt. I snarl behind my helm. Though it was quite a common custom for some of the wilder chapters, such as the Space Wolves, to take battlefield trophies, looting the remains of the foe is something that is frowned upon.
"Is that really necessary?" I ask, my grating voice echoing through the long cavern.
The blood elf peers at me, her flashing green eyes defiant.
"Gold is of no use to the dead. I don't think they'll mind if I… borrow their wealth for the time being." Her lips part into a smile. "Besides, the night elf is doing it too."
My glance turns to Keina, who had just finished going over a corpse missing a head. Unlike the sin'dorei, she refuses to meet my stare, obviously ashamed of her actions. Instead, she shoots Vareesa a nasty glare before answering.
"The gold will help the Alliance war effort."
I am about to reply when fierce agony surges through my side. My brain acts immediately, shutting down the suffering nerves and denying the pain a further hold into my conscience. Numbness settles in, and I roar in fury at being blindsided by such unworthy enemies.
The satyr gives a squeak of dismay as my visor focuses on the source of my rage. It is smaller than its warp tainted kin, but such frailty serves a purpose as purple orbs of chaotic energies gather at its palms. I do not allow the demon to proceed further in its dark magiks. Three shells from my bolter reduces the thing to an unpleasant stain on a nearby wall.
"We continue on," I scowl.
Power was what led the fallen Highborne into summoning Sargeras, hoping the deity would grant them more. Power was what led the disenchanted high elves to their city of Silvermoon, where they could dabble into the arcane for more. Power was what Vareesa and her people continue to search for, in the hopes that their addiction to fel magic could somehow be alleviated.
Power radiated from the giant in such magnitude that the blood elf almost fainted with ecstasy. Everything about him was wreathed in power. They way he walked, the way he talked, the way he fought, everything. Even the way he took pain, when the satyr caster lanced a shadow bolt into his side. The god had ignored it as if though it was pinprick. This was power, unrefined and unaltered, terrible and alluring in its raw form.
Vareesa wanted it. She wanted it for herself and noone else. She would make this man her own, so everyday she could bask in the magnificence of his power. She would make this giant serve her, so she could gain his power as her own. She would make this god love her, so she would forever have him and his power by her side.
She would do anything for this power.
The first thing that hits us as we enter the circular room is the stench. Decayed flesh. Weeks old. The two elves besides me are trying hard not to retch. I don't blame them. My visor immediately picks up the carcasses of the strange reptilian creatures that are sprawled intermittently around the area. They are almost as tall as me, short stubby legs supporting a massive body encased in a bony shell. I note with unease that many of the bodies have gaping wounds that can only be caused by the tearing actions of a teeth-filled maw.
"The great domed beasts of the Veiled Sea," Keina whispered, "they are peaceful creatures… What horrors have happened here?"
A faint disturbance among the corpses alerts me.
"I think we're about to find out," I reply grimly.
The roar the beast gives is pained. It rears its ugly head, showing sunken eyes and flaring nostrils. Its scales are a dull orange color. I cannot tell for sure due to the clotted blood that adorns its bulky frame. It opens its mouth, revealing teeth as long and thick as one of my fingers. I realize with sudden disgust how the wounds were caused on its dead kindred.
"Ghamoo-ra! He is a kind beast and has never harmed us kaldorei before!" The night elf is almost in tears. I grimace. There is no place for weakness here.
"I think your definition of kind and its aren't quite the same," Vareesa nervously reaches for her sheathed weapons.
Ghamoo-ra takes a tottering step towards us, bellowing deeply. Its eyes focus on me, and I am overwhelmed in what I see. The irises expand back and forth rapidly, showing madness and blind hate. At the same time, I sense the sadness in them. It knows what it has become. Those same eyes beg me for release from its living torment.
My boltgun thunders into life, matching the brute's roars in volume. Rocket-propelled shells streak forward, slamming into the monster's hardened exoskeleton. Diamantine tipped, they penetrate the protective bone structure before detonating in flashes of exploding shrapnel. Ghamoo-ra screams in pain as smoking craters blossom into existence along its corrupted form. The last shell rips into the creature's exposed chest, and shreds its heart. Those intelligent, reptilian eyes flicker towards me one last time. They thank me, before death's embrace causes the lids to close.
I stride towards the freshly slain beast.
"Why has this happened? By Elune, is nothing sacred?" Keina asks in distraught breaths.
My gauntleted hands reach for the creature's head. They stop when my visor focuses on the unclean symbol that is branded to the back of Ghamoo-ra's skull.
"Nothing is sacred anymore, xeno." I sigh as I turn my gaze away from the eight pointed star of Chaos.
