Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Warhammer 40K games, books, or movies. They belong to their creators and/or copyright owners. It is not for sale or rent.


Chapter 10: Tonight, we dine in hell

=ATBS=

Part 3

=ATBS=


unknown location
Kronus

A crack of displaced air and blinding red lighting heralded Gorgutz 'Ead 'Unter's return to the materium. In his expert opinion, it was a letdown. There was no one to crump or shoot around, no fighting whatsoever.

It was cold too, and everything appeared covered in that odd white stuff that Mekboyz could melt and turn into propar booze if they had enough rocket fuel to play with. Speaking about booze, Gorgutz brought his mug up and downed it, enjoying the fiery stinging sensation of the liquid washing down his throat. Finishing his drink made the last uncomfortable ache in his back went away.

He looked around. Still no one and nothing to bash over the head. Gorgutz shrugged and took another pull from his mug, savoring the drink. His memories from meeting Gork and Mork were already fading. However, he could clearly recall the really important bits and pieces.

A big crumping WAAAGH! would be happening in a place called Kauruva. Or something like dat. Gorgutz would be there having the time of his life!

However, first, he had some work to do. It simply wouldn't do to get blasted from space! It really wouldn't, though it might be fun to do it to the humiez next time! Gorgutz had to find an answer to that problem! He wanted to lead another huuuge horde against the Humiez!

Well, first, he had to find a way off this rock. Perhaps a rockit, or better a rocket? There might be a few useful boyz left here and there to pick up as well…

Gorgutz drained his mug again, without thinking about it. He was already deep in thought you see.

Naturally, he didn't think about how odd his contemplation was, for an Ork anyway. Gorgutz most definitely didn't think that his thoughts were crystal clear, despite the booze he kept chugging, or the fact that he was well, an Ork. Deep and detailed planning had never been his kind's strength. Yet, that was precisely what he was doing, while confidently striding through snow-capped mountains.


=ATBS=

Chaos fortifications
Deimos Peninsula

There were very few things in the materium that could make a Dark Apostle wary. A Sorcerer clawing out his eyes and gurgling in tongues wasn't one of them.

This being the third one who tried to divine what the Corpse worshipers were up to, well it made him think appropriately dark thoughts. Eliphas wasn't happy, on the contrary. The carefully nurtured and expertly turned PDF regiment he sent to secure the Daemon's binding place was busy playing tag with Blood Ravens and surprisingly effective Guard soldiers.

The Dark Apostle briefly thought this was just typical PDF idiocy at play, then remembered that the Four had blessed that particular Regiment so that couldn't be it.

Competent Corpse worshipers in need of murdering it were then. Eliphas nodded to himself. Now what to do about it…

He looked through narrowed eyes at a nearby building painted with all kinds of pleasantly glowing Chaos symbols. That was where he had the new batch of willing sacrifices gather to await deployment. There were almost enough of those. The issue was they needed some innocent ones as well, and those were much, much harder to find. Damn that Greenskin brute to the deepest, darkest parts of the Warp!

Eliphas made a point to check on the area's security just in case of more Ork mishaps or other unlikely trouble. Only then he returned to overseeing the bickering Sorcerers. The remaining ones anyway. There was a fourth one writhing on the ground and frothing at the mouth after trying to brute force his way to some answers.

That, combined with the machine abominations, didn't paint a pretty picture. First, no blood for the Blood God. Not good. Second, no souls to send screaming to the Four. That was even worse. Obviously.

The Necrons were the real problem. With them around, the Dark Apostle didn't dare send a meaningful portion of his forces to deal with the Corpse worshipers or even take and hold the area where the Greater Demon was imprisoned. Doing so before he could have enough forces both to protect his base of operations and especially the Warp Gate and send a strong enough expeditionary force, might prove fatal. That was why he sent the PDF Regiment. They were both expendable, and at least in theory tough enough to have a chance of holding and keeping the important real estate.

"I need to know what the Corpse worshipers and those soulless abominations are planing!" Eliphas roared at his diminishing supply of Sorcerers.

He drew his blessed Crozium and smashed the skull of the still frothing at the mouth imbecile.

"Get me results or I'll personally deliver your skulls to Khorne!" Eliphas left the Sorcerers with that heartfelt promise and marched towards the Warp Gate.

He was going to assess again what he had available, trying to figure out a reasonable way to achieve his mission. Failure was not an option.

In theory, the various ongoing rituals all over the peninsula should soon make it close to impenetrable for the Necron's damned technological sorcery. Once that was done, in theory, he would be able to wield many of the disjointed war-bands and groups of cultists that kept coming through the gate, not to mention the warp-spawn.

The problem was that in theory was far from enough. He had to free the Greater Demon and either feed this world to it or ensure it retreated through the Warp Gate if Kronus couldn't be held.

Eliphas passed by sacrificial altars, felt pulses of blood magic wash over him, and smiled. With those particular defenses up, no mortal could approach the gate. Each pulse was strong enough to strip the flesh of a mortal not enjoying the Blessings of the Four, and a second one would send their souls screaming to the devoured.

Those same defenses might do absolutely nothing to even slow down the abominable machines. That though stripped away the Dark Apostle's smile. That was the reason why there were many more altars spread all over the place with hundreds of locals ritually sacrificed while thousands more awaited their fate.

As far as the Eliphas was concerned, soon couldn't come fast enough.


=ATBS=

Part 4

=ATBS=

Upper Wastes
Kronus

Rohan's forces achieved their first objective as soon as they left the labyrinth that was the Webway. For a brief moment, all anyone could see was a frozen stark wasteland. Next, the Aeldari registered the sorcery cloaking everything around them. Technology and spells from the handful of Warlocks riding on top of the Grav Tanks rent the veil, allowing them to perceive the truth.

The Biel-Tan's contingent had established their operation's base right on top of the gateway, thus risking exposing its location. There weren't many of them present – a handful of guards spread all over the place, some fixed defenses and a group of snow-covered Walkers towering in the distance. The warmongers' response was slow and sluggish. Rohan already had half his tanks through the gate, and the infantry riding on them dismounted and ready by the time a wide-eyed Guardian challenged their incursion.

The Biel-Tan warrior first to encounter them was very young, little more than a boy really. There was no trace of his helmet, a fact partially explained by a fresh, severe burn covering part of his face and right side of the head. The ghastly wound had received some basic treatment, likely just enough to prevent infection, nothing more.

"Where is Taldeer?" Rohan hissed more harshly than he intended. The more he saw and experienced from this place, the worse his option of the disaster became. An aura of shock and defeat surrounded the whole area, clinging to it harder than the ice gripping the ground below his armored boots.

The youth slowly raised a hand and pointed at a nearby wraithbone building.

"My thanks, warrior," Rohan said in a gentler tone. He briefly looked at the Warlock riding on top of the Grav Tank beside him. "Deploy our forces to secure the area. I want real-time intelligence of the surrounding regions."

Rohan went to find his sister, doing his best to get his temper under control. He didn't know for sure what forces the warmongers deployed to Kronus. What he knew was he could see their shattered remains, and they were a pitiful sight.

The building he entered was an armory, which was now empty of most weaponry and ordnance, highlighting the losses Biel-Tan suffered so far. Now it served a different primary purpose, that of a hospital. Wounded Aeldari laid or sat in the corridors and rooms Rohan passed by. Some were left alone, healing themselves through a Psychic Trance. Others had Guardians and the odd Aspect Warrior doing their best to keep them alive. Anger burned within the Ranger's hearth at the sight of so many broken Aeldari who suffered for no good reason.

He finally found Taldeer at the far end of the Armory. The room supposed to hold heavy weaponry had been stripped bare and turned into yet another healing point. Taldeer laid in a corner, looking small and fragile. Seeing her that way, reminded Rohan just how young and inexperienced his sister was. Yet that hasn't stopped the fools at Biel-Tan from giving her an independent command.

Taldeer stirred when he approached. In the artificial light, her hair looked like a smoldering flame. Her skin was paler than the snow outside. She slowly opened her eyes and stared at him without recognition.

"Sister." Rohan greeted quietly. His voice sounded tired and resigned to his ears. "What had you wrought?"

"Rohan?!" Slowly, a spark of life and recognition appeared in her empty eyes.

"It's me, sister. What happened?"

"The Mon-Keigh… and the soulless abominations… They slaughtered us…" Taldeer spoke slowly, haltingly. Her voice was chock full of pain and disbelief.

"I'll need more than that, Farseer." Even though Rohan knew better, he couldn't help it and snap. He wasn't just angry with Taldeer but with himself as well. Perhaps if he had stayed behind, or found some way to get his sister away from those maniacs…

What ifs didn't matter. He wasn't a damned Farseer. Rohan left his sister behind and now he had to pick up the pieces if it was at all possible.

Taldeer simply stared up at him and the spark of recognition in her eyes burned out. The dull empty look was back.

"Mon-Keigh, Tau, and Ork infestations detected on arrival. Divination pointed at possible Necron awakening. We needed to secure the planet and prepare to neutralize Necron threat without distractions." Taldeer began her report like an automaton. "The Path was obvious – direct the lesser species to kill off each other, sweep off the survivors, and then neutralize the real threat. Stirred Orks and pointed at Mon-Keigh. The brutes failed. Convinced local Tau forces to assault Mon-Keigh positions to provide distraction and expend their offensive forces."

At that point, Taldeer halted her matter of fact monologue and flinched.

"Mon-Keigh allied with the abominations. It was a trap!" The Farseer shook and stared intently at Rohan. "It was a trap…" She repeated. "We slaughtered the Mon-Keigh until the streets ran red with blood. They didn't break!" She became more and more frantic as she spoke. Her eyes looked through Rohan, seeing the bloody past. "The beasts kept coming, then the Necrons struck!" Taldeer all but screamed. "They slaughtered us! It isn't right! We're Aeldari! The galaxy is our birthright! It's not right!"

At that moment, Rohan had never been more grateful for the helm he wore. It hid the way he blanched at seeing his sister fall apart in such a way. One thing was certain, he wasn't getting a better report from her anytime soon.

"Rest, Taldeer. The monsters are far away." He said in his best soothing tone.

Taldeer's face twitched twice before she laid back on the ground and visibly relaxed. Yet, all the same, she kept muttering: "It isn't right!"

Rohan had to consciously keep himself from running while he made his way out of the building. That was… He focused upon the tenets of his chosen path and began to rapidly recite them in his mind. The familiar monotony of the action was like a soothing balm to his frayed soul. This, all of this, was at least in part his fault. What happened to his little sister most of all. Taldeer should never have been here, much less leading this disaster of a mission!

He spent a few moments to calm down and focus, before striding towards the closest hale Biel-Tan warrior. Rohan needed better answers than Taldeer could currently provide. Once he had them and knew exactly what he was dealing with, he had to find a way to fix this.

He had to! Anything less was simply unthinkable.


=ATBS=

If you want to support my writing or discuss this story, see the following links:

Pat re on: Delkatar's writing corner

the space battles forums - this is where most discussion over my stories takes place

the sufficient velocity forums

the alternative history forums