A/N: Sorry that it's taking me a while to update this. I basically only find myself able to write when I feel like it or if I'm well past my updating schedule. Otherwise I just end up writing nothing worth reading. Also I write these at like, 4-5 in the morning.
If you were wondering, the chapters pretty much switch between a 3rd person narrative of events from the point of view of a certain character, occasionally shifting and whatnot. Hope that makes sense.
Typhon Primaris, Present Day
It seemed like there was some kind of disagreement at his proclamation, with the four alien soldiers giving each other looks while their leaders continued to stare at him, as though wondering how much information they could keep from him. Which meant he might have to be persuasive.
"But before we do that," Glatisant said, "I would really appreciate if we could move this conversation in that direction since I only made it so the Orks can't walk to us. They can still shoot us."
A piece of rock that jutted out from the cliff was obliterated not a moment later as a series of muzzle flashes from the Orks opposite them appeared. They couldn't have been that far away, barely a hundred meters or so. Still, even with their misshapen weapons that appeared as though they couldn't hit the broad side of an Ogre at point blank range, the Guardian didn't intend on sticking around, and it seemed the Eldar didn't either.
Their leader dipped her head for only a moment, and it took him a second to realize it was a nod. "Very well. Come with us, and we shall answer what we can."
As the group entered a brisk jogging pace, which was apparently all they needed to fully get out of the Orks' weapon range, Glatisant called Ghost up once more.
I'm going to need you to make note of everything they say, and hurry up with the Sparrow.
On it.
Anything else the Guardsmen told you about the Eldar we can use to our advantage?
Two things. They think of themselves as higher than anyone else, and that everything they do is for a purpose. And that purpose is to better themselves, and themselves alone. So obviously don't trust them and don't rely on them.
Satisfied, Glatisant ended that conversation and turned his attention back to his newfound companions. From what little information he had to go on, they only acted if it put them at an advantage, and didn't particularly care about anyone else.
As a result, he found himself slightly worrying about why he was in one of their supposed prophecies.
"This is good enough," he spoke up as they entered a clearing. The Eldar squad came to a collective halt as the guards began to spread out slightly, perhaps searching for targets. Meanwhile, the other two turned to face him, and the Guardian cleared his throat in response.
"Before we go any further, what are your names?"
"Does that matter?" the white haired one asked dubiously.
Glatisant ignored him. "I'll start. I am Warlock Guardian Glatisant. And you are?" he directed with an expectant look, the effect of which was lost from wearing a helmet.
"Very well, Guardian," the taller one said. "I am Farseer Elariel, in service of Craftworld Ulthwé. And this is Ronahn, formerly a Pathfinder for Craftworld Ulthwé."
Formerly, huh? He asked himself, but shook it off, that wasn't why he had stopped to talk to them. "And how did you know who I was?"
"I and other Seers came together in an effort to discern the future of this sector, that we may escape the coming storm," Elariel answered with what sounded like pride. "We discovered many possible futures, and only a few that met our n-"
"Wait. Stop," Glatisant motioned, and the blank metal faceplate stared at him in what he could only assume was annoyance. "You can predict the future?"
"To a degree that is neither completely accurate or too far into the future," Ronahn supplied, earning a glance from Elariel's blank helmet before it settled back to the Warlock. "That is correct."
Glatisant sighed. The cultists and their version of the Darkness, he could understand. Even the Vex, whatever strange category they fell under he could comprehend. This was just ridiculous though. "And how do you do that?"
Another stare. "I cannot explain that in a manner that is easy to comprehend or wouldn't take up too much time. Suffice to say, Farseers like myself are able to predict future events with limited sight."
It was an excuse, and he felt like they both knew it. Not that she was aware, but if he could comprehend the theory behind using the force of Light to resurrect himself while clinically dead, he could probably get a grasp on the mechanics of predicting the future.
"Fine. Continue, then," he motioned. Just another Traveler-damned thing to study later, he thought.
"...We predicted many possible outcomes to save the Eldar in this sector, however due to our lack of influence, we are only able to act on a few of these," Elariel muttered. "I am leading a team that is attempting to change the future, and to do so requires your help."
Well if that wasn't vague, Ghost chipped in, and Glatisant silently agreed.
"And what makes you think I will help you?" he challenged.
It was so subtle that he almost didn't notice, but for just a moment, Elariel seemed to tense up as though not expecting the question before returning to her normal stance. Ronahn observed them, looking more irritated than anything else.
"You will," she answered in that lofty voice, so full of confidence. "What other option do you have? There is no other way off this world but with us, and this is not where you will want to be in the near future."
Glatisant's eyes narrowed. The fact that her statement was pretty much true but felt like it was pushing him to help them a little too much was more than enough reason for distrust. "And why would I not want to be here?"
"Do you know what an Exterminatus is?"
"No," he answered flatly.
"It is when the Imperium razes a world from orbit, destroying all life on the planet through planetary bombardment. Perhaps you don't care about this world," she murmured, and he instantly thought of the Orks that he wouldn't miss at all. "But you are stranded here, and we are running out of time. You can stop this, or you can die here, and not come back."
"Did your prophecies tell you that?" Glatisant asked even as a knot began to form in his stomach. His mind was in turmoil, torn between the distrust of a race that apparently used others as tools on a regular basis, and the desire to not be killed so far from the Traveler.
Assuming she wasn't lying.
Elariel gave another nod. "The dead will bear death, the damned shall be damned, every soul of a Craftworld lost, slain without a word."
"...Where do I fit into that?"
"What?" she asked, puzzled.
"You called me a 'Guardian of the Light'," he elaborated. "Which is true, and you definitely know that by now. So since you divine the future and I'm mentioned in a prophecy, why would you mention one that doesn't include me?"
There was only the sound of the leaves rustling in the gentle wind and the sound of some far-off insects of some kind as the Eldar seemed to contemplate the question.
"You are not ready to hear it yet," she responded. "When the time is right, you will."
Ghost, he called out.
Yes?
Is it just me or does it sound as though, assuming the idea of prophecies is true, that maybe the prophecy with me in it features me doing something I don't want to do? And that's why she's not telling me this?
I came to that conclusion too, but what choice do we have? Considering how I doubt I can reconstruct your ship, they were likely not lying about being stranded here. Going with them is your only option, unless you want to test your luck with the Orks and possible orbital bombardment.
It took only a few seconds for them to talk, and when they were finished it seemed that the Farseer was none the wiser.
"Alright," he said at last. "I'll help you in exchange for getting off this world. After that, we're done. Deal?"
"I accept your terms," she answered, then looked at his outstretched hand. "What are you doing?"
Glatisant was just as puzzled as her for a few seconds, before realizing what she meant. "In human culture, we typically shake the hands of the people we are making a deal with."
The Rangers, who Glatisant had completely forgotten were there, turned to face them, one saying something to Elariel in their language the second he mentioned 'human', clearly angered. Judging by the sudden displeased reaction, combined with what information he'd gotten from Ghost, it didn't take much to put two and two together. He probably wasn't happy about working with a human.
A very terse reply from Elariel to the uppity soldier later, she turned to face him. "My... apologies for that, Guardian," she said, and Glatisant didn't find it hard to imagine her saying that through gritted teeth. Like it wasn't a prospect she relished either but recognized the necessity in it. "Most of us are unused to working with a human."
"I am so much more than human" he answered her in his own vaguely displeased voice. "Don't fool yourself into thinking otherwise. So since we apparently hate each other because reasons, do we still have a deal?"
Without hesitation, her gloved hands met his armored gauntlet, and they shook, much to the disapproval of every Eldar present.
A few seconds passed, during which Glatisant made note of the subtle shift in the rest of the Eldar soldiers' stance. In a way that was hard to describe, they simply appeared more hostile, unforgiving of the fact that he was human. They were tolerating his presence for now, trusting in their leader's wisdom. Who knew if that would hold up.
Ronahn didn't look like he particularly cared one way or another, still wearing a semi-scowl on his face, like he had since he had since Glatisant had first met him.
"Do you have a plan for getting us off-world?" he asked. Another conversation that didn't include him spoken in a language he didn't understand later, Elariel nodded.
"Lead the way," he offered, and they obliged.
To regular humans, walking through a thick woods at night was a difficult affair. As a result, traversing a jungle full of hostiles in almost total darkness would have been completely impossible. To the well-suited bodies of the Eldar however, they had little trouble navigating the terrain, and the Light that empowered Glatisant didn't face any major troubles either.
Hours passed agonizingly slowly as they fell into a routine: try to walk in a mostly straight line to some destination he had not been informed of. If that is not possible, navigate around whatever obstacle is in front of them, and fight through any Orks that appear in front of them.
It was a routine he was pretty familiar with, the Guardian reflected as he stabbed an Ork and fired his heavy machinegun into its throat once. It reminded him of Venus, almost. Marching across the overgrown remnants of civilization, stopping only to fight when the horde of Vex pursuers became too much to ignore.
Except right now he would have almost preferred them to the Orks. Glatisant scowled as the Ork refused to die, instead grabbing his heavy weapon and throwing him to the side with a strength surpassing his own. He quickly scampered to his feet, and got in front of the Ork before it reached its bolter. Two more diagonal slashes to the chest later, it finally collapsed, and he put a bullet into its head to be certain. Even their basic foot soldiers were as durable as a Minotaur, it felt like.
He reached for another magazine only to come up short, and Ghost immediately used one of his synthesis packs to create more.
We have exactly one more left for heavy ammunition, Guardian. May be best not to use it for now since I'm still having trouble making our own from scrap materials. It's... a complicated affair.
Understood. Against All Odds went away, and he held his auto rifle and sword once again.
Not that it looks either of you need it at the moment, and Glatisant briefly stopped strangling another Ork to see what Ghost was talking about.
On the shore of a swamp was the Farseer, currently in a duel with a pair of Nobs. How she managed that, Glatisant was clueless. He had enough trouble killing them one at a time, but she was a master at melee combat. Wielding a long bladed staff he didn't know she had, and moving with such grace and fluidity that she looked more like a dancer than a warrior.
At the same time, the Nobs were pressing down upon her with all they had. One swung another of those oversized bladed axes he had seen before, only for it to miss the Farsser as she sidestepped it, avoiding the gnashing mechanical teeth by millimeters. The other brought what looked like a flamethrower that had been poorly welded to one of the bolter-type weapons they were so fond of, but Elariel was faster than it.
Her hand came down hard on top of the gun's iron sights, forcing it to aim at the ground as she drove her staff into its neck with the other hand. The chainaxe-wielding Ork tried to take advance and swung sideways at her, like a lumberjack trying to chop down a tree, only to miss completely when Elariel twisted the staff, forcing the wounded Nob directly in the path of the axe and allowing to be cleaved in half.
The Nob didn't let that incident discourage it in the slightest, only taking it as further incentive to pursue her. Even as a comparatively smaller Ork suddenly arrived on the scene, wielding a crude war axe. She killed it immediately with a swipe of the bladed staff, so quickly that it made the air blur and the cut so clean it could have been mistaken for being severed by a laser.
Then the muddy water next to her shifted and a second Ork grasped her by the legs, pulling her to the ground. "S'PRISE YA GIT! I'Z THE SWAMP DA HOLE TIME!" it bellowed triumphantly.
It died instantly when she simply forced the blades of her staff into its eye sockets, but the damage was done—she was no longer on her feet.
Roaring in rage, the surviving Ork started after her, stumbling when she reached out and lightning not unlike what he saw the cultists using began to fry it—only to stop almost as soon as it started, causing Elariel to drop her hands to the ground, her staff clattering uselessly next to her.
Glatisant's mind went into overdrive at the sight, assessing the situation. Ronahn didn't see what was going on, he was shooting at a group of Orks operating heavy machineguns far to their left. The other Eldar soldiers weren't close enough to assist. He needed her to get out of here.
Taking the Path of the Seer had prepared Elariel for a great many things. And while most of them revolved around using her psyker abilities to get herself out of trouble, there were quite a fair few combat skills she was very familiar with that made her far from helpless.
However, all of this was taught to her under the assumption that she would be facing threats that could be fought. None of her training or centuries of experienced trained her for what had happened a few hours ago.
It felt like the lightning bolts that had almost fired the Ork had done the same to her, and at that moment she felt as weak as a child, about ready to keel over from exhaustion. It was a stupid mistake, she realized. To have gone into a battle without support without her powers of precognition backing her up.
Or what Crota had done to her.
Still, there were more important things to worry about than her regret. The Nob was bearing down on her, chainaxe roaring as its teeth sliced the air.
Even in this state, Elariel pushed against the ground with all of her might, forcing her into a roll and allowing the deadly melee weapon to sink to its head in the mud. As the Nob pulled it free, she drew a dagger stowed within her armor. Any other day and it would have been an easy battle, but not today. Being blind and weakened greatly reduced her odds, but the situation was still winnable, that much she could tell. The Farseer charged forward, ready to slip around the Ork's blind side at the last moment when it was most likely to bring its axe to bear-
only for it to fall flat on its face, and only then was she aware of the fist-sized hole in its chest and the approaching footsteps of the monkeigh- Guardian.
"You alright? What was that?" he demanded of her as they moved sluggishly through the swamp, managing to avoid the incoming bolters until they came to a stop underneath a tree.
The monkeigh and their arrogance she thought to herself briefly before chiding herself. Not long ago, she was trying all she could to get it to join them, and human or not, there was no doubt they needed his help.
"I am well," she half-lied, steadying herself as the feeling of nausea and tiredness from using her powers began to fade. "Not able to use my powers for a while. I will be fine."
The Guardian didn't seem to be paying any attention to her, with his back against the tree's thick trunk and looking past it for enemies. She felt her irritation mount ever so slightly at being so casually ignored, only for him to interrupt her thoughts. "And why is that?"
"I was attacked while attempting to gather information," she answered in her usual truthful but vague response.
Blindness or not, she could tell the Guardian was rolling his eyes.
"Attacked by who?"
"I doubt you would recognize the name," she scoffed, all the while pondering if she should actually tell him. Wooden splinters exploded against her, and she decided to humor him if only to end the conversation. "A being known as Crota stole my sight and hinders my powers."
"Oh, well- wait what the shit?!"
The startled and angry response was not at all what she had been expecting.
"You mean to tell me-" he started before freezing up and turning his gaze towards her. He didn't move for a few seconds.
"What," he asked slowly, "did it do?"
This was taking her in the opposite direction she wanted to go, but the Guardian's dangerous tone was clearly sending a very clear message: this was not something to lie about.
"I attempted to delve into the memories of a Wizard," Elariel answered truthfully as she felt rather than saw the Warlock tense with what little psyker-improved senses she had left. Recognition. He knew what a Wizard was. "In doing so I saw a vision of Wizards singing a song to summon Crota. It stabbed me through the eyes, and rendered me blind to the world, and the Warp."
There was a lengthy pause, interrupted only by the sound of bolter shells exploding underneath the murky swamp water near them. Finally the Guardian spoke up, and she could practically feel the trepidation in his normally calm tone.
"Do you know what, exactly, Crota is?"
Elariel searched the area around her with her mind. It was her only way of sensing anything around her that wasn't within a few meters, and it was one skill, however small, that Crota hadn't managed to take from her. Satisfied that they weren't going to come under immediate attack, she answered.
"No. Only what it is called and that it is the leader of the Hive," she said, moments of her excursion flooding back to the surface of her thoughts. An army of chittering and screeching bone. The sound of that damnable creature's song and its mind-flaying powers-
Her head began to hurt, and the Farseer immediately cleared the thoughts away like she had countless times before. Those were so much more than memories, and were dangerous to delve in.
The sound of gunshots from what was most assuredly not a Shuriken rifle sounded off, coupled with a few cries of pain from Orks. After a few seconds, it became clear he wasn't going to respond, and she sighed in frustration. This entire excursion had all but ended before it began. First Crota stole her power, then the Orks decided now would be an excellent time to attack, and now half her team doubted her leadership capabilities.
Still, not all was lost. At least they had recruited the Guardian, she reminded herself. If the skeins of fate were to be believed, then there was still a chance, however slim. It just required them to get off the planet. Events needed to be set in motion, and fast.
The sound of battle stilled, to the point where it was clear there were no more Ork gunners immediately firing on them. Venturing out of cover cautiously, something she was completely unused to, Elariel joined the rest of her party in venturing forward. Normally, she would have been able to simply vault over any obstacles in the way and gut her adversaries at a moment's notice. Now, she felt herself almost trip over a vine.
It was starting to anger her, and she resolved to get her sight back as quickly as possible. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her, one so obvious she wondered how she hadn't thought of it before. If the Guardian knew what Crota was, could he knew how to lift the Darkness that obscured her vision?
Just as she was about to ask the question, she heard him speak. "Where are we going?"
"A Webway," Ronahn answered him. "One that's able to transport us to a different planet in the system."
"And how far away is it?"
"We are almost upon it."
"Guardian," she called, and felt his eyes on her. "How do you know of Crota?"
"I killed him," he answered. "A long time ago."
She nodded. From the sound of his reaction to the news earlier, it sounded like he had killed or indefinitely imprisoned the demigod long ago. "And how did you do that?" she asked.
"I doubt it would work again, if that's what you're hoping for," he answered bitterly. One of the Rangers fired a few shots, and a heavy green body thudded against the ground, shaking it. "Wasn't easy either. Got cursed by just being near it."
That piqued her interest. "How did you rid yourself of it?"
"We needed a Chalice of Light to survive. I don't know if any even exist anymore."
Just like that, her hopes were deflated. "There is no other way?"
"Well..." he pondered, and she felt herself hanging on his every word. "I suppose if you had enough Light or a way of gathering some, you might be able to remove... whatever it is that you're dealing with."
"Eyes up," Ronahn said, interrupting them. "Webway ahead."
You ever heard of anything like that?
No, Ghost answered. It must be that presence from the Warp that I felt suppressing her, that's my guess. But no, since I wasn't aware of the Warp since we arrived here I have not heard of anything like that.
I'm more worried about Crota apparently having a presence in the Warp. If he finds a way of travelling through it, we're fucked.
The Farseer said the Wizards were chanting something, Ghost muttered. Ir Yût, the Deathsinger.
They died when we killed them though, right? Or at least, should have stayed dead for millennia?
Our studies into the Darkness are theoretical at best, Ghost reminded him. And this is only my personal theory, but the Crota you fought was just a vessel being commanded by a fragment of his soul. We didn't destroy all of it.
So where have they been all this time? If enough time has passed that humanity doesn't even remember the Guardians or the Traveler, then what've the remnants of it been doing?
That's what worries me.
They lapsed into silence after that, Glatisant choosing to pay more attention to the area in front of him.
At least he tried to. In spite of the cobbled together explanation for Crota's possible return, he still never forgot the way that damned thing had all but drained the Light from their bodies by just being in the same general area. The thousand Guardians its blade had felled, and how hollow and far away his victory had been.
The Guardian tried to stop thinking about it harder. Crota was a threat, but he would have to wait until after they left this planet. They entered an area that had been civilized at one point, only to be reclaimed by the jungle for who knew how long.
The Imperium had clearly been here, if the series of barbed wire and arc lights were any indication. An ugly but clearly durable ramparted building next to a curved blue and gold spire with red lights sat in the middle of the pavilion-like area.
That must be the Webway they're referring to, Ghost said.
Elariel stepped forward, touching the base of the structure and making the red lights on its 'spine' come alive. At the same time, a perfectly shaped oval of translucent aqua light formed, fitting around the curved structure.
"It's damaged," she said in Low Gothic, withdrawing her hand from the Webway, frowning behind her faceplate. "We can't go through it, but we can requisition additional forces."
"Oi! Something jus' went right sparkly over der!" came the sound of, to the surprise of no one, more Orks.
"What can we summo-" Glatisant asked before a small group of Eldar and a floating gun teleported directly in front of him. "Whoa!"
Ronahn nodded. "Shuriken cannons. Good. Set them up quickly, we haven't got a moment to lose."
The new infantry team, which was clad in the same pattern of armor as the Rangers but with slightly more armor plates only just managed to finish setting up the mobile cannon they brought with them before the entire treeline to their east inexplicably exploded.
"Waaaag-" the horde of Orks started, only to be drowned out by the collective sound of a dozen rifles firing at the same time. A maelstrom of shurikens flew out from the heavy turret, raining death upon the green creatures. Two died immediately, turned to ribbons from the deadly assault. Another was clipped at the waist, blowing its legs off as the devastation continued.
Wow.
More Orks, from the west!
Glatisant stopped firing momentarily and jumped to the other side of barricades. Another wave of Orks, these ones brandishing flamethrowers and more of their ludicrously sized melee weapons.
The ones with the flamers were a priority target, and Glatisant wasted no time in focusing all his Light into his arm. Scorch was sent outwards not as a single blob of fire that would crash against opponents at close range, but instead came out as a cone of superheated air that made the atmosphere ripple and blur from heat. The Orks recoiled for just a second as his wounds stung from the effort, but a second was all he needed.
All he did was take out his auto rifle and spray in a horizontal line from right to left, and the exposed Orks were helpless to the results.
The first few bullets shot wide, hitting nothing but air and dirt.
And a few hit the volatile-looking fuel canisters that were strapped to the flamer-wielding Orks. Thus began the greatest display of pyrotechnics Typhon Primaris had ever seen since the original Tyranid infestation.
A wave of heat so many magnitudes more than any living creature was ever meant to survive exploded outwards in a whirlwind of fire, instantly torching the Orks caught in the blast. It forced Glatisant to dive for cover again as the metal tank barricades he was hiding behind bubbled and audibly popped from the heat, but he was unharmed. The same could not be said for the Orks however. Western approach was clear.
Shields recharging, the Warlock threw a cautious glance at the rest of the battlefield, and was satisfied with the results. One of the new Eldar soldiers finished putting a burst of rifle fire into a twitching Ork, apparently the last one. It was time to move.
"I hope this wasn't the Webway we were hoping to leave through," he said dryly, motioning to the still-active but functionally useless portal.
"It was one. There are others close by," the Farseer stated. "Move quickly, we shouldn't waste any time in this jungle any more than we have to."
"Let's move," Ronahn agreed, and together they did.
The next few minutes saw them in a routine that had become second nature to the motley team of Eldar plus a Guardian. A short gunfight between a few small bands of roving Orks later, they encountered another Webway, only to find that much like its sister building, it was incapable of long-distance teleportation.
Everyone had a few muttered curses to chip in at that discovery, but at least they had even more Rangers with them, Glatisant noted. "Time to what, find another Webway?" he asked, a few of the Rangers and Ronahn nodding in confirmation.
"Of course," he sighed, but readied his heavy weapon regardless. Advancing into the next abandoned Imperial camp they were greeted by more abandoned buildings, more barbed wire, and an Ork big enough to wrestle with an Ogre.
Alright, he hadn't been expecting that, actually.
"That's right decent of ya, shiny," he barked at them. "Deliverin' yerself and da Eldar right to me grotstep!"
Still unable to get used to their completely out of place accent, Glatisant took his time to respond. "Who the hell are you?" he asked bluntly.
The massive Ork threw its head back to the sky and gave a hearty laugh while the Guardian pondered if shooting him right now in the throat with No Land Beyond would be enough to kill him. Knowing these things and their stupidly durable form however, it probably wouldn't.
"HAHAHA! That's rich. You slaughter all me boyz without even listenin' to dem, and then ya demand me name? I'z Kaptin Bluddflagg, and I'z gonna be the last thing you'll ever see!"
Had he not been wearing a helmet, Glatisant would have scratched his head in confusion. "Your 'boyz' didn't exactly give me a choice. They kept telling me they wanted to talk to me while shooting at me."
"Izzat not how you deliver a message?" Bluddflagg asked him, equally bewildered. Glatisant just turned around to face the rest of his allies.
"Should we kill him?" he asked.
Elariel gave her response, "It is foolish to allow a Warboss to live unharmed, he must be stopped as quickly as possible."
Ronahn nodded, and together they turned to face the still-confused Ork, who was well within hearing range of their conversation. "Well if that's da way you want to play..." he growled, gripping the chainaxe and impossibly crude rifle, "WAAAGH!"
Hundreds upon hundreds of Shurikens and heavy weapons rounds flew into the air, and very few missed. However it didn't seem to do any noticeable damage, drawing buckets of blood from gushing wounds that Bluddflagg didn't care about in the slightest. He charged forward and smashed his axe into the ground, instantly flattening a Ranger who hadn't managed to dive out of the way in time.
Glatisant was already running in a circle around it, doing all he could to kill the monstrous creature. A grenade stuck to its back, machinegun rounds blasted into its armor-like hide, and the Eldar did much the same. Still, Bluddflagg had apparently earned the rank of Kaptin through more than just being the biggest and strongest Ork around. He counterattacked with suppressive fire from the long automatic rifle in one hand, forcing them to momentarily cease fire as he singled out exposed Eldar with his chainaxe.
Glatisant gritted his teeth as a sudden swipe came dangerously close to him, and instead bisected a pair of Rangers next to him. Their upper halves went sailing through the air, spraying crimson against the concrete as the Guardian came to the conclusion that he was too close for Gjallarhorn, and bullets were pretty much ineffective.
Bluddflagg almost killed him immediately by swinging his rifle like a club, missing the top of his head by inches as Glatisant ducked low into a roll, scampering behind the Ork. Instinctively, Bluddflagg turned around to face him, which exposed him to two things that for all his durability, he was completely unprepared for.
A hailstorm of Shurikens shredded the Ork's skin, the mounted gun being manned by the sole surviving Eldar from the initial assault. At the same time, the Warlock drew his blade, and drove it as far as he could into the joint where Bluddflagg's leg ended and his foot began.
It howled in pain, which was the entire purpose of the attack. Glatisant reached for his sniper rifle to deliver a killing blow as he stepped back—and was sent flying as more than a ton of moving steel collided with his chest.
It felt like being back in the jungle when he first arrived, with wounds that were practically dripping with Darkness and Chaos and death. He used his good arm to get to his feet, swaying uncertainly as the ground seemed to spin and twirl underneath him. The feeling passed, but not before Bluddflagg got a lot closer, raising its chainaxe for another blow. He timed it perfectly, only failing to kill the Guardian when he rolled out of the way, allowing the concrete to take the blow instead.
Coming to find himself on his back staring up at the sky, Glatisant turned to the left to see the massive form of the Warboss's boots, and the blade sticking out of them. Snatching it up, he ran towards where he had been previously, under covering fire of the rest of the Eldar.
Now might actually be time to use heavier weapons.
How is he even alive at this point.
While blood flowed freely from its wounds, Bluddflagg's reckless charge showed no signs of slowing down despite being shot literally thousands of times by now, which was starting to irritate and worry Glatisant. Seeing no other option, he gave a cursory check of his HUD, and found what he was looking for.
The Light enveloped him, and once more Glatisant relished its effects while they lasted. Nothing ached anymore. He was as light as a feather, and as strong as a Titan. It was going to work perfectly.
Bounding across the overgrown base like a man possessed, he brought his blade to meet the Warboss's own. Even with Radiance, he wasn't nearly as strong as the nearly two-story tall monstrosity, but he had more momentum. Bluddflagg was knocked a few steps backwards, allowing Glatisant to channel Scorch into his blade once again, and leap into action.
There wasn't much time left on Radiance, but he made the most of it. Bluddflagg was only a few feet in front of him, facing sideways after being spun from their collision. Glatisant charged forward, jumping at the last second and bringing the molten blade to cut a long gash through its ribs like a laser sword through butter.
He landed with enough force to shatter some of the concrete, and was able to turn around just as the golden wisps of Light faded from his body and the weight of the world came back to him.
The Ork was still standing, clutching at its chest in actual pain at being hurt, but alive nonetheless. Glatisant shrugged off his disbelief in a second, reaching for his sniper rifle in the hopes he could deliver a killing blow.
Recovering quickly, Bluddflagg roared in anger and started another one of his charges, before stopping completely. The creature's eyes rolled back in its head, and it collapsed forwards, revealing the Farseer's staff embedded in the back of its lifeless body.
A/N: REAL QUICK: When I wrote that sentence about Radiance making the Guardian feel like he was 'strong as a Titan', I meant that as in as strong as a Titan Guardian. Not a goddam giant mech from Warhammer.
If you're wondering why I wrote the Farseer as not being some completely overconfident 'hurr hurr I'm an Eldar and know everything' character, it's because of the whole Crota thing a little while ago.
Oh and if you're wondering what weapon she is wielding, just think of the staff with bladed edges that Taldeer uses in the first Dawn of War game. Something like that.
And now let us end this chapter with some reviews.
Meleesmasher: Well, basically they're disappointed but still willing to work with him.
TheTrueSkull: I went back and looked, but I didn't reference at any point in this story, a segment where the Fallen were trying to loot the Traveler. Although if I did write that and just forgot to remove it, let me know, thanks.
Konerok Hadorak: Yeah I agree, I think like, twice I just wrote those in because I couldn't think of anything else to write and if I didn't it would be one long block of unbroken text that would more or less be "And then he killed another ork. And again." That part of the chapter, anyways. But maybe I just need to improve my writing style.
As for why they talk so much, that's just the personality I gave them. Other Guardians and their Ghosts are different and much more what you were expecting. Plus, the way I wrote those are supposed to be like 'and then they exchanged maybe three sentences between each other about three times over the course of a four hour long battle'. That's my justification for it.
Besides, it's not like they go to great lengths to discuss anything that's not extremely pertinent to what they're doing. And the alternative is to take the Destiny route, in which case Dinklebot unlocks a door for five years while revealing about 6 minutes worth of story.
I actually had plans for a lot of the things you mentioned, although some, not all would actually appear in the story. The Hive are pretty much the only force that are regaining a foothold in the galaxy again at this time, but I do not intend for it to be them alone. All I can say is... stay tuned. This chapter doesn't have a lot going on, I must admit. Next one will have some interesting stuff to see.
