Author's Note: To begin, something that occurred last time. After a longer discussion I asked a reader not to review anymore. Somewhat displeased by this he assumed that I don't want any criticism. That's not it, not at all. As I've written in my last message to him (and in case he's reading this now), I asked him to stop because he criticised things that were not said/ did not appeared/characters did not do in my stories, several times.
I do take criticism seriously, it would be foolish and arrogant of me to think I write perfectly and I've had many discussions with AlbertSteiner143 and AlwaysBetOnVoid and I've done changes based on things they've told me. Naturally, I will also defend my final decisions, because I do put a lot of thought into my work; that why it always takes me so long to get a new chapter out. Another reviewer told me of spelling errors; I thank him and fixed them immediately. That's how I've done it in the past and I will continue to do so.
The problem is that it's difficult to take a reviewer seriously, who obviously doesn't read carefully and very often get things wrong. So far, the reader mentioned in the first paragraph, is the only reviewer to have done so and therefor he's the only reviewer I've asked to stop. I've never asked Chandagnac to stop and he's criticised much more, but he's done it well; he read carefully, understood what was going on, but he still had concerns/criticism and that's fine. I'm here to learn and I'm still learning.
And I even edited two sentences in the past chapter, after that reader I asked to stop reviewing noted that they were somewhat unclear, to make the paragraph more understandable. So it's certainly not like I don't listen. I just disagreed with pretty much the rest.
As an example: I'm not an omniscient story-teller; it's from Yaidev's point of view. I can't write what she doesn't know for sure. Like the destruction of the tanks; both normal plasma and melta charges are plasma weaponry and Yaidev only saw lights and explosions from afar, so there was no way she could have said what specific kind of charges were being used, so I simply chose to call it plasma.
The rushed pace of the last chapter was intended, as this is a battle and this is how Yaidev experiences it; things happen fast and suddenly, there is no time to stop and take a breath. Given the ticking clock with the greater daemon getting summoned, there is not exactly time to stand around and plan every step, or do much character interaction. Things need to get done, if possible five minutes ago.
There was also the criticism that the Banshees were 'sent'/ 'assigned' to fight the bloodletters and flesh hounds, but the Exarch clearly stated in the conversation with Cadaith that she and her shrine had been separated from the host and driven into enemy territory. Obviously this means that the eldar didn't send them. I could go on, but you get the idea what I'm talking about.
All I ask for in the end is reading comprehension, criticism that is concerning things that are actually in my story, or things I actually missed to include and such. So when in doubt, read a part/paragraph twice, maybe things become clear or maybe I did in fact screw up. It happens to everyone and at the end of the day it's a hobby, one I take seriously, but a hobby nonetheless.
Path 2
Dark Reaper
The Destroyer Part 3
Yaidev followed Felanwé and their Exarch up the final staircase, Cadaith opening a door blocking their way with a powerful kick. They had finally reached the flat rooftop of the building, thankfully finding it empty like the rest of the house. It was perhaps not the one they had been originally sent to, but it was better than to be on the ground-level. The Reapers moved now slower and more cautiously towards the edge until Yaidev could finally look upon the plaza for the first time.
While the rest of the city, or at least what she had seen of it, had been a graveyard marked by war, the location before her was torn apart by both the ongoing conflict as well as the Ruinous Powers, entering reality at this very location. The ground was covered with cracks, ominous light flickering within them, steam rising from some. The outer walls of the surrounding buildings were defaced with bloody runes and the bodies of humans that had been nailed to the stone, though sometimes only their skulls or limbs were, the arrangement of some creating daemonic symbols.
At the very centre on a hill was a circle of runes around a metal archway, consisting of two pieces almost touching at the top. Light was flickering in their embrace, similar to a webway portal, though this light was of purple and red. Three rings of defence work surrounded the archway, many Chaos Space Marines and a few cultists having sought cover behind them and were now well entrenched. Tanks, Defilers and other horrific engines of war supported them, raining fire upon all who dared to cross the plaza. There were even more trenches in front of the rings, they too filled with enemy soldiers, though mostly normal humans.
In addition automatic turrets added their firepower, though they focused more on the eldar approaching the defences on the ground, while Saim-Hann's airborne host was ever busy avoiding the rounds of the two-dozen war-machines. The constant roaring of the weapons would have been deafening without the helmets.
Yaidev could see that the Iybraesili host had arrived from the west, their grey-blue armours simple enough to spot, along with a great number of Aspect Warriors, mostly Banshees. It seemed that most sought cover in the buildings for now. She also saw some of their warriors on the roofs, a large team of Guardians actually on the one next to the Saim-Hannian Reapers. More Guardians were in the upper storeys of other buildings, making use of the high ground the same as the Singing Scythe would. It also seemed that Iybraesil had more than one Dark Reaper shrine at their disposal, as Yaidev spotted several of them as well.
Iybraesil's super-heavy grav tanks and walkers were here as well, all having opened fire upon the enemy from the streets, though none yet dared to charge the enemy's position. They appeared to be waiting for the perfect time to strike, a hole in the defences. Certainly Saim-Hann would deliver soon.
The Wild Riders themselves, along with Swooping Hawks and the grav tanks of Iybraesil, circled around the forces of Chaos like a flock of raptors, groups sometimes detaching from the main force to fly back to the city, several usually at once, only to return from a different direction guns hissing as they were unleashed. The enemy never seemed certain as to which group it should fire at. Just as Yaidev looked about, a Fire Prism returned with a Jetbike-guard, heading straight for the Mon'Keigh.
The large crystal serving as the primary weapon of the tank fired a high energy shot, tearing apart a Defiler, the possessed, almost spider-like machine exploding in a ball of purple fire. Burning pieces were tossed into all directions, some crushing cultists before coming to a stop.
Quickly the Fire Prism changed direction again, but a Predator hit its flank, forcing it to retreat from the battle, while a rocket, likely fired by a Havoc, brought down a Jetbike. Yaidev watched it explode in midair, the burning pieces raining down upon the defenders. The fire within her flared up at the sight, Yaidev's hands gripping the launcher's handles tighter.
"Reapers, take your positions; we face more than twisted Cresistauead."
For a moment Yaidev wasn't certain what Cadaith was speaking of, but the small portal flared up, its light growing in intensity. Two figures held their arms towards the metal archway, assumingly the sorcerers the Exarch had spoken off back on Saim-Hann.
All five Aspect Warriors took their position, as they had done countless times before, allowing them to open fire on the defenders, keeping enough space between each other as to not accidently injure one another.
The portal suddenly widened and moments later the reinforcements appeared from the sea of souls. Dark shapes flew out of the purple disk of light, dozens at first, ever growing in number. Great bat-like wings carried the humanoid creatures up into the air and even from afar Yaidev could hear their animalistic cries.
"Furies; they seek to buy themselves more time for the greater daemon's summoning." Maldorahn noted, though his voice sounded calm and even.
The youngest of the Reapers shook her head. "Why would the Cresistauead even consider worshipping such horrors?"
"Nothing less but the curse upon mankind; folly and ignorance." Their Exarch explained with a hint of disdain in his voice. "And their desire not to lift it."
The daemons were somewhat larger than a man, with a hunched posture and a truly hideous appearance. They had bestial, long-jawed faces, with bat-like ears and mouths full of jutting fangs. A bristly mane of black hair ran from their short horns to the base of their spines, while two broad batwings sprouted from the shoulders, the leathery flying membrane black as coal. The skin itself had the colour of dried blood and their powerful arms ended in large paws with long and sharp looking talons.
The daemons immediately targeted the Wild Host of Saim-Hann, some landing on the Jetbikes to throw the riders from their seats, letting them fall more than a hundred meters to their deaths, the now pilot-less vehicles following swiftly. Others the furies ripped simply apart. Thankfully they seemed to have more difficulty with the tanks, trying to reach the pilots in the cockpits with their sharp claws, though for now the wraithbone proved sturdier.
Naturally the riders fought back, the eldar changing formation like a school of fish encountering a pack of sharks. Great amounts of shuriken fire made short work of plenty daemons, though the battle in the sky was far from over. The emerging swarm was massive.
As Yaidev watched her brethren fight and die, she felt no sadness, only rage burning in her heart and frustration that she could not yet exact vengeance upon those winged beasts, as they moved too swiftly for the Reaper Launcher to be effective. And the riders themselves were in the line of fire. It was a risk she and the other Reapers were unwilling to take. No, they needed to focus on those coming for them.
A large number of furies split from the main flock, which was doubtlessly numbering hundreds by now and the detachment headed for the buildings surrounding the plaza. "Clear the skies." Cadaith ordered them calmly, though Yaidev believed to hear a certain eagerness in his tone, a hunger for battle. One that would soon be sated.
The first eldar on the other roofs opened fire, flashes of purple fire appearing constantly in the dense swarm of daemons, whenever one was slain. But it was not enough to stop them, their number too great to have been significantly reduced. And now there were coming towards the Singing Scythe as well.
Like a wave they washed over roof after roof, some trying to directly attack the eldar other only evading the shots fired at them. Finally the crosshairs turned green, when the furies had almost reached the Reapers.
The front of the wave seemed to disperse in purple fire, completely eradicated by the countless missiles from the Reaper Launchers. Swiftly the swarm changed direction and split up. "Felanwé, Yaidev take the right, Maldorahn, Ilthaldir the left!"
The Reapers adjusted as ordered, Yaidev gritting her teeth behind the helmet. There were so many and the Aspect Warriors were soon enveloped by the swarm. She could see nothing but moving bodies, heard the flapping of wings, so many and so loudly that only they and the cries the daemons emitted, could be heard. Yaidev only needed to keep the trigger pulled, every round finding a target, not always killing, but bringing plenty down from the skies, the fire of banished daemons surrounding her.
Like on the other roof most simply evaded, while others dared to attack. One came suddenly from above, jaws wide open, claws reaching out to tear her asunder. Quickly she brought her launcher around and fired, several rounds digging into its unnatural flesh. It tumbled down, impacted on the roof directly in front of her, ash and fire washing over her feet and legs.
Suddenly she was thrown of her feet and to the ground, her body sliding over the roof. Her left arm and shoulder burned with pain, the wound form the Havoc's round crying out and she turned to see that a fury had tackled her, claw marks along her arm. Thankfully they hadn't cut through, but there had been much power behind the impact. Not wishing to lose momentum, the fury had simply moved on afterwards, but others now took their chance.
Several daemons attacked her now, Yaidev's weapon swaying left to right and back again without pause, slaying each beast foolish enough to believe that she was easy prey, being on her back. Like an arrow a red shape rushed in from the left and something hit her helmet, Yaidev hearing talons scratching into it, a rune blinking brightly on her display.
But once more the daemon had moved on, leaving the killing blow to the next one that arrived just as she could see again. Her eyes widened as it landed on her body, claws coming down, the thing screaming at her with blood-dripping fangs. Screaming defiantly in return Yaidev pressed the barrel of the launcher against the daemon's red flesh hand fired, the claws disintegrating mere inches above her chest, ash covering her vision for a second. But she was not out of danger and Yaidev felt herself panting. Too close, far too close!
The young Reaper continued to move constantly, swaying, kicking the ground with her feet to bring more distance between her and the approaching daemons, though she gained only centimetres. Her breathing remained heavy, the weight of her armour now pressing against her chest, not uncomfortably so, but certainly noticeable.
She didn't expect the others to be able to assist her, the number of enemies being simply too great, but for the moment it seemed that she was able to make it and with that thought came a touch of elation.
The swarm had almost passed over them…
"Argh!"
Yaidev's head swirled around just in time to see that a fury had grabbed Felanwé from behind, holding him by the shoulders. The beast flapped its powerful wings to carry them both up, the Reaper struggling to free himself.
"No!" As swiftly as she could, Yaidev disposed of the last daemon that was attacking her, before she got herself back on her feet. She could not let this happen!
Just as she moved, a second fury came down from the skies, taking hold of Felanwé's left arm. He still struggled, his launcher hanging in mid-air beneath him, only attached to his armour's backpack now. With his right hand Felanwé had managed to draw his combat knife and stabbed at the paws of the daemon that had carried him up, trying to kick the second fury, though he missed the bestial face by a hair's breadth. The knife however found its mark, digging deeply into the fury's hand, the daemon howling and hissing.
Then several things happened at once.
Yaidev had finally made it and took her stance, the daemons already being marked. In that moment the first fury opened its jaws wide and closed them again around Felanwé's head, biting into his helmet and neck, the wraithbone creaking under the pressure. While Felanwé attempted to stab at the first's head, the second fury suddenly pulled at the arm it had taken hold of.
Bone cracked, wraithbone broke and just as Yaidev's finger squeezed the trigger, the arm separated from his body. Blood sprayed in every direction and she heard Felanwé cry out in pain. Not even a second later, the missiles hit the daemon, tearing it apart in mid-air, her brother's arm falling onto the roof.
Her launcher was already firing at the other fury, still biting into Felanwé's head, while twisting its own around like a crocodile. Yaidev ignored the red rune on her display, as well as Felanwé's sudden silence and due to the systems of both her weapon and armour no round harmed her brother.
The fury's head exploded and vanished, the body fading only seconds later. As soon as the claws were gone, Felanwé's limp body tumbled back down to the roof. Despite her having slain the daemons, Yaidev felt no relief and she ran as quickly as her armour allowed. She couldn't have failed! The young Reaper suddenly let go of her weapon and spread her arms, managing to catch her brother's body. Only thanks to her suit's stabilizers did she remain on her feet, when his weight landed on her and holding him in her arms, she rested him against her body.
His helmet was partially destroyed, blood seeping slowly through wounds on his head and neck where the sharp fangs had met flesh. She heard the sounds made by the daemons fading in the distance, the swarm having doubtlessly reached another building, however her brothers had not stopped firing just yet. Feeling a little saver, she dared to linger longer and almost carefully removed the shattered helmet, pulling it off.
Felanwé's eyes were closed, puncture wounds along his head and neck, the blood already stopping to flow. The rune on her display still blinked red, but nonetheless she removed her own helmet to listen for his breathing and pulse. Even as her keen ears were pressed against his throat, she neither felt nor heart the blood rushing.
She looked to his left shoulder and at the gaping hole where once his arm had been, a pool of blood having gathered on the ground beneath it. There was nothing left to be done, not now, not by her. It was not sadness that she felt, not truly, but a sense of failure, regret and anger at herself for not having been able to prevent it. But this was the nature of war, of fighting; there were always losses.
"Yaidev!" Her Exarch bellowed, pulling her from her thoughts. "His demise cannot be undone; take your position once more! This battle is far from done and more are coming!"
Without giving a reply, Yaidev nodded, biting her own lower lip; this was not the time to be let herself get distracted. She laid her fallen brother on the ground and rose to her feet, the Singing Scythe reuniting once more. Only Ilthaldir had gone to the roof's edge again. "Exarch! The daemons are climbing the walls!" Red las- shots flew left and right to him. "And a few cultists from the trenches have spotted us!"
"Our battle with the furies must have been noticed. Reapers, gather! We can't nor will outrun these monsters. We'll make our stand here and kill everything that reaches the roof." He turned to Ilthaldir, who took his place between Yaidev and the Exarch. "How many have you seen?"
"Two dozen are climbing the north wall currently and more are coming for our brethren on the other roofs."
"A manageable number." Cadaith conceded calmly, but with a freezing undertone that could cut flesh. "We'll reward the attention they give us with every missile fired."
"Khaine's gift guides us."
The old Exarch nodded. "Indeed, Maldorahn, embrace the war-mask here today and you will neither fear the daemons, nor will you yield to very end."
Yaidev was glad that in this battle her war-mask had not been weakened over time, unlike during her first. After so many weeks and months of practise and daily training, this state of mind had become very stable and entering and exiting it had gotten simpler. She put her damaged helmet back on, some strands of her shoulder long, crimson hair now clinging to her face, but she did not let this bother her.
They could eventually hear the hissing and growling of the approaching daemons and it did not take long until the horns of bloodletters came into view. They somehow managed to pull themselves up with such force that they practically leaped over the roof's edge, several appearing at once.
The eldar did not hesitate and opened fire, but unlike their last encounter in the house, the daemons here had plenty of room to move and evade. Yaidev was astonished at how swiftly they did so, their contours seemingly blurring constantly. Even the Reapers' weapons had trouble tracking them sometimes. To her dismay, Yaidev noticed that by the time the new wave had arrived on the roof, the first one was not completely dealt with.
Three remained. Yaidev's rounds closed in on one from the left, Ilthaldir's from the right and though the bloodletter tried to elude, it was torn apart when the Reapers' lines of fire crossed. It was the last that reached them, the beast leaping into the air, its sword lifted above its head to bring it down with maximum force upon the Exarch.
Quickly Cadaith stepped forth, just as the blade was about to come down, bringing his launcher around after having disposed of another daemon that had approached them from a different direction. The weapon's butt hit the torso, shoving the daemon away, not much but enough for Cadaith to orientate his launcher, the barrel then pressed against the daemon's red skin. The missiles turned it to ash even before the blade could make contact with the Exarch's helmet.
But more had already made it to the roof, bloodletters and flesh hounds alike this time; and greater in number than the first wave. Khaine guide her aim. Yaidev took a deeper breath and continued to fire. A round hit a bloodletter's leg, obliterating it. The beast fell, hissed at her, its black eyes fixed on the young Reaper, before a second missile went straight through its elongated skull.
The Dark Reapers disposed of the second wave and from that point on, every few seconds a new daemon emerged, the monstrous creatures no longer appearing in waves, but on their own, replacing those, which had fallen. More than two dozen now and Yaidev had a feeling that Ilthaldir had made a wrong estimate, or that more had begun climbing since he'd looked.
The Reapers had formed a semicircle and were forced to move ever closer to each other. A flesh hound was running directly towards Yaidev, not in a straight line to avoid the missiles, saliva dripping from its fangs. She disposed of another bloodletter and quickly focused on her new target, the hound already too close for comfort. Her weapon was almost in the right position, it leaped, jaws wide open.
Its paws were on her shoulders, pressing her down, her back hitting the ground. Its weight kept her pinned and its head came down like that of a snake. Instinctively she lifted her left arm to protect herself, the jaws closing around it instead of her neck.
Yaidev could not help but cry out in pain, as its bite crushed through the wraithbone and down on her actual arm. There was a terrible cracking sound of something that was certainly not her armour and suddenly a burning pain shot from her lower arm into her head. For a moment she only saw stars and heard her own voice screaming.
But it had not knocked the fight out of her. Yaidev's other hand had let go of her launcher and now drew her combat knife and even before her vision had returned, she jammed it into the daemon's head, just behind the eyes. The beast growled but didn't die and utterly enraged Yaidev snarled, pulled it out, only to ram it back into its skull again. Blood sprayed as she did so several times, the hold on her arm getting weaker, but it just wouldn't die. Why wouldn't it die?!
Several missiles then hit the flesh hound and it turned to flames, ash snowing on her armour. A hand grabbed her and pulled her up, Yaidev helping with her feet. "Are you alright?" Ilthaldir's distorted voice asked her from behind the skull image of his helmet.
"I'll live." She breathed, her arm still hurting, pulsating. Blood was running over her armour and dripping now from the tips of her fingers.
Her brother was already firing at the daemons again, but he had heard her low voice nonetheless. "Can you operate your launcher?"
"We shall see." Yaidev told him determinately, taking hold of her weapon with both hands. The pain flared up once more, but she knew that she had no choice if she wanted to survive and fight with her brothers. Using her right hand more, letting it carry most of the weight, she joined the battle anew.
While she had been on the ground, more daemons had reached the rooftop and not just from the north, but coming from their left now as well. Yaidev looked to the roof next to theirs and saw that the Iybraesili Guardians stationed there were gone, smoke rising from the platform-mounted heavy weapons.
This could not be allowed to happen to them as well.
It was as if fate itself had heard her and taken pity, when suddenly shuriken rained down on the approaching daemons, cutting most of them down in a matter of a few seconds, until the roof was almost cleared, countless shimmering disks now sticking in the ground.
Utterly surprised Yaidev looked up into the sky and expected to see Wild Riders returning for another attack on the portal. But it was not them, yet the sight filled her with joy.
Colourful vessels flew over their heads, belonging to no craftworld, yet they were known to all. Harlequin Jetbikes known as Skyweavers, with a pilot and a passenger, the latter fighting from the rear platform, led the formation.
They were followed by slender skimmers named Starweavers, which were capable of caring several Harlequins at once into battle and were armed with two shuriken cannons, one guided by the pilot the other at the rear by a passenger.
And at last came the Voidweavers, open-topped, gunships, similar to the Starweavers. Each was armed with a rear-mounted, passenger operated Haywire Cannon that could cripple armoured targets with powerful electromagnetic blasts, thus they were excellent against enemy vehicles. Additionally they had two shuriken cannons, one orientated forward the other rearwards.
"The Masque of the Soaring Spite has come to our aid!" Exarch Cadaith announced solemnly. "Once more they stand with Saim-Hann."
All vehicles displayed the colours of the Masque, in this case diamond-shaped fields of violet and sky-blue, changing into plain black at the rear. Yaidev could see golden runes, one diamond-shaped and the other a triangle; they belonged to the Troupe of Light.
It had been so long since Yaidev had last laid eyes on them, a single performance in her childhood. The Harlequins of the Soaring Spite were seen by the Saim-Hannian as kindred spirits, as they too favoured fast, airborne battle and were relatively often seen fighting beside the craftworld. And they had come just in time.
Many vessels had already passed them, but a few more daemons were still reaching the roof, unintimidated by the Harlequins' appearance on the battlefield. It was then that a shadow approached the Reapers from behind, a Starweaver only about two meters above their heads.
One of the two Harlequins on the rear transport platform leaped off the skimmer before it reached the plaza, his long-bladed polearm lifted to strike. Nimbly he landed on the bloodletter's shoulder, his glaive's blade going straight through the daemon's neck from behind. His mohawk haircut was coloured in several shades of red and beyond his devious smiling, white mask, Yaidev saw violet eyes. His clothing displayed the same colours and patterns as the vehicles, though additionally a purple cloth billowed between his legs.
Most of the remaining daemons quickly lost interest in the Dark Reapers and turned their attention towards the Harlequin, who leaped off his victim just as it turned to ash. He landed in front of another bloodletter, avoiding its blade, by simply leaning his torso back, bringing his weapon around in a wide circle at the same time, almost as if it was a scythe. It cut deeply into the daemon's leg and he finished it off with his shuriken pistol, the discs cutting into throat and face.
With a cartwheel he then approached a flesh hound, once more swinging his glaive-like weapon around. "Methinks one let slip the dogs of war." The Harlequin laughed, as his blade cut horizontally through a flesh hound's snout and head, the beast falling before his feet. Another turn, he went on his knees, a long blade cutting the air mere inches above his mohawk and he stabbed another daemon through its chest from below. The Harlequin leaped up and forth, thus throwing the bloodletter onto its back, twisted the weapon, the unnatural bones of the ribcage cracking, letting the daemon fade.
Yaidev had watched the entire performance with great interest, fascinated by the ease with which the artist disposed of the lesser daemons of Khorne. In the meantime, she and her brothers had slain several other daemons, leaving only two, which the Harlequin took on. And no others reached the roof anymore.
A roar from below caught everyone's attention, the Singing Scythe moving closer to the edge and the fighting Harlequin.
Yaidev looked at the plaza, just in time to see a burning titan approach the battlefield from one of the many streets. The Avatar of Khaine had finally arrived. For a moment she wondered where he had been all this time, though she doubted not that he'd been slaying their enemies someplace else.
Aspect Warriors of both craftworlds followed him, walkers at his flank; like a spear they would stab into the enemy's heart. And then they would tear it asunder.
The worshippers of the Ruinous Powers had quickly realised the danger and concentrated their fire on the Avatar and his entourage. Warp Spiders suddenly appeared and took out the last Predator with their charges, another shrine of the same Aspect bringing low a defiler. A Fire Prism removed a turret and a few cultists, who had been standing too close to it, disappeared in the bright explosion. Yes, this would end soon and Yaidev felt a sense of elation flooding her mind.
To her left the Harlequin pulled his blade from the last daemon, just as it turned to ash. He approached the Exarch with swift steps. "Please forgive us our delay." The Harlequin apologized to Yaidev's surprise, though the tone of his voice remained merry, as if he was having a wonderful time. "Long and treacherous proved our way."
"It matters not; you're assistance is most welcome, Rillietann." Exarch Cadaith told him and the Harlequin bowed. It almost looked like a formal curtsy, with one leg advance as he bent the other.
"Midir!" A female voice suddenly called from somewhere above, the shape of a Skyweaver Jetbike passing by.
The multi-coloured warrior straightened up. "Fare thee well, oh warriors." He spoke solemnly and with great joy. "May your thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth this day."
Without hesitation the male Harlequin ran towards the edge of the roof and jumped. The Skyweaver had made a turn, allowing the eldar to land perfectly on its rear platform. It seemed they did not wish to miss out on this final assault. "Reapers!" Cadaith shouted. "Take your positions and open fire! Witness the final moments of this battle."
Without hesitation the Aspect Warriors took the last steps to the edge of the roof, their targeting systems swiftly marking dozens of victims. The battlefield looked somewhat different now. The Wild Riders had almost completely disposed of the furies, most enemy vehicles were now destroyed and holes could be seen everywhere in the barricades.
The Dark Reapers and all eldar within the plaza-surrounding buildings and the roofs started to fire. The Singing Scythe first focused on the trenches in front of the barricades. Thanks to their elevated position the cultists' cover was almost meaningless. Their missiles tore the Mon'Keigh apart, Swooping Hawk dropping grenades, adding to the body count.
Finally walkers moved in from all sides, joined by Banshees, Scorpions and Fire Dragons, the latter filling the trenches with flames, killing the last of the cultists. The blaze soon filled the structures and the eldar army marched forth. The airborne vehicles of Saim-Hann, Iybraesil and the Soaring Spite dealt with the last of the furies, clearing the skies and immediately turned to their actual target.
The portal itself was brightly glowing again, though so far nothing had appeared yet. The purple fire was now leaking from it and spread over the ground. Being a psyker like all eldar, Yaidev sensed the coldness coming from it, a feeling as if something was pulling at her very soul; it was truly oppressive. The greater daemon was being summoned at this very moment. Gods, she could feel the very fabric of reality weaken.
The Avatar meanwhile strode towards the warp rift and reached the first barricades. Chaos Space Marines fired at him, but the burning titan ignored their round as it seemed. His spear came down and slew two of them at once, cutting one in half, impaling the other. His entourage followed swiftly and lunged at the Mon'Keigh, bringing death with blade and fire.
Almost all eldar forces were on the move now to finish this battle and the few surviving defenders could not hold off the storm, coming their way. The Reapers, not only the Singing Scythe but those of Iybraesil's shrines and other more stationary units, remained in position, standing guard over the battle.
"I'm surprised that not more reinforcements for the Mon'Keigh has arrived." Maldorahn noted calmly as they watched the host charge the last of the three barricades.
"The battle with the imperial Cersisteaued was hundreds of kilometres away and their forces in this city could have proven too much for only one craftworld to handle in time; they hadn't assumed that they would have need an even greater number here today. The summons is already well underway, but now it seems that we can still stop it." Their Exarch explained, sounding rather satisfied and Yaidev too had to admit that she found the sight of the Mon'keigh being overrun rather gratifying. "Regardless, we must finish this soon, or part of their army may return yet."
Yaidev watched Harlequins leap from their vehicles into the fray, cutting down enemies, practically dancing from one to the next. The Wild Riders continued to clear the way for those on foot and the Avatar marched forth, leaving behind him a smoking swath of destruction.
With a foot he levelled the last barricade in his way and reached the slightly elevated centre. The purple light shone upon his metal form and the runes carved into him flared with flames of red and orange. It almost seemed as if they pushed the daemonic light aside.
Yaidev smiled cruelly, when a Chaos Space Marine approached the Avatar and as she zoomed further in, she saw that it was a sorcerer, his helmet having bird-like characteristics and violet lightning was dancing around the staff in his hands.
As he pointed his weapon at Khaine's incarnation, the lighting leaped from the two blades at its tip, engulfing the Avatar. To her surprise he actually got slower, his free hand clenching into a first. It was the first time in her life that she saw him getting truly harmed; there was something almost fictitious about it and she watched, almost disbelieving her eyes.
Suddenly the titan roared and fire erupted, a blast wave scorching everything around him, pushing the sorcerer back, flames running over his armour, the robes he wore over it burning. With a swiftness one would not have expected from such a large being, the Avatar grabbed the sorcerer, before he could recover, with his bleeding hand by the helmet. The psyker struggled against the hold, but the Avatar did not waste any more time and squeezed the head, doubtlessly breaking the skull.
The Mon'Keigh ceased to struggle immediately and the Avatar let him fall. As if he wanted to make sure that the sorcerer was dead, he rammed the blade of his spear into the body again, before he turned to the metal arches, containing the warp rift.
For a moment Yaidev wondered what had happened to the other sorcerer, who should have been here as well. When she found him near the portal, he was already locked in combat. A Harlequin had challenged the psyker, his mohawk of such a powerful blue that it shone out even between all the warriors surrounding them. The craftworld eldar had joined the Harlequins at the last barricade, bringing low the last of the defenders.
As Yaidev watched the sorcerer and actor fight, she noticed the latter's clothing and realized that he was not a common Rillietann; he was the Troupe Master. Chosen to perform the role of Cegorach in the plays and to lead the Troupe into battle, he was certainly among the most skilled fighters of the Masque and the most experienced. How many daemons and worshippers of Chaos had already fallen to his blade? She watched him now with awe and respect and though ever aware of her own surroundings, she observed his every move.
His long, high-collared coat, which billowed with each move he made, had revealed his rank, the inside displaying the kaleidoscopic patterns of violet and sky-blue, the outside black. His mask was grotesque, almost goblin-like with a hooked nose and a sinister smile, exposing sharp fangs.
The Troupe Master danced around the sorcerer, avoiding the force staff his enemy wielded. He ducked, leaped, performed somersaults and cartwheels, his sword striking every now and then, inflicting minor wounds or leaving cuts in the thick armour. Did he merely want to irritate his enemy?
The staff was swung around, aimed at the Harlequin's chest. Instead of dodging the strike, the Troupe Master brought his sword between himself and his enemy's weapon this time. Keeping contact with the staff he brought his own blade down and managed to cut into the sorcerer's chest-plate, starting at the right shoulder and stopping when he hit the left arm, as the Mon'Keigh was still holding his weapon with both hands. Suddenly the Troupe Master pulled his sword back and evaded to the left with a cartwheel.
Lightning barely missed him, however the blade at the staff's tip cut into the coat and then into his thigh, though Yaidev could not see if the Astartes had drawn blood. She wondered why the sorcerer wasn't using more of his powers, though the summoning of the furies and the ritual that had been supposed to bring the greater daemon to this world had likely left him exhausted.
Suddenly the Troupe Master dived down, the staff passing over his head and his secondary weapon dug into the sorcerer's mid-section. Yaidev had been able to see it briefly before, but only now, seeing what it did to the Astartes, did she know what it was. A Harlequin's Kiss.
Worn on the forearm, the weapon consisted mainly of a sharpened tube, containing a tightly-coiled, high-tensile and retractable monofilament wire of around a hundred metres in length. Released into the body it instantly uncoiled and lashed around violently, liquefying bones and internal organs. As the sorcerer's body was modified as all Astartes' were, death was not immediate, but swift nonetheless.
The large body shuddered and twitched, the staff slipping from his fingers. As sudden as the strike had come, was the weapon pulled back again, the wire retreating into the 'Kiss' for the next time. The Harlequin swung his sword and decapitated the human with a single blow, letting the body collapse onto its knees. As it sat there for a few moments, before it hit the ground, the Troupe Master bowed to his dead opponent, like an actor when the curtains fell.
In the meantime the Avatar of Khaine had not been idle. He'd reached the metal arches, but he rammed his spear into the ground, not trying to destroy the structure with it. Instead he took one arch with both hands, the metal glowing quickly in a bright orange as it began to melt beneath the fingers. The Avatar pulled with all his strength, the arch bending a little, but there was no effect on the warp rift yet.
His feet dug deeply into the ground as he pulled anew, the ground cracking, the fire within his body flaring up, rising from the runes, surrounding him now like an aura. And finally the metal surrendered. It broke in two and the Avatar tossed aside the upper part he was holding on to, the lower one still in the ground, but bent.
The effect was seen immediately.
The light of the symbols upon both the standing and destroyed halves of the arch died and the portal itself quivered violently, suddenly having become extremely unstable. Yaidev had the feeling something terrible was about to happen.
The sounds of an engine caught her attention briefly and she saw a Wave Serpent reaching their roof, a vehicle similar to the Falcon, though with different weapons at its disposal. "Our transport as arrived. It is time we depart." Yaidev turned to her Exarch; he likely had called a vehicle around the time the last defences had fallen.
His students nodded and one by one they walked away from the roof's edge towards the Serpent, now waiting with its hatch open. Yaidev was the last to turn away from the battlefield, her eyes fixed on the collapsing disk of daemonic light. It flickered for a while, the eldar forces already retreating, certainly sensing the danger. She should go.
Then suddenly, just as Yaidev turned around, the light collapsed into a very small point of extremely intense light like a miniature sun.
It lasted maybe a second or two and then…it exploded.
It was bright, a bright light pf purple and red extending with great speed into all directions simultaneously. The vehicles in the air were thrown into disarray, tossed around in the storm. The walkers on the ground were staggering, while heavy-tanks like the scorpions got pushed back. The Avatar was holding on to his spear, once more rammed into the ground, waiting for the blast wave to pass him.
The eldar on the ground were less fortunate, many thrown off their feet and carried across the entire plaza, others hiding in the trenches, the fires gone long enough by now. And Yaidev ran.
Maldorahn was already inside, Ilthaldir and Cadaith both clinging to a part of the Wave Serpent, which fortunately was not truly effected, but swayed nonetheless, when the wave reached them. Yaidev however did not have the building between her and the coming blast wave just yet and was still partially exposed.
It caught her while she was still running, at a moment when she had hardly a foot on the ground. It threw her off her feet completely, pushed her forward like a leaf in a storm. She had no control and was carried away and though she tried to angle her body, it was of no use. Head first she connected with the Wave Serpent.
Then all was black and silent.
Eldar Language
Rillietann= Harlequin (Eldar)
Brief Author's Note: Now then, how well do you know Shakespeare? I wonder if anyone found/noticed the three sentences heavily inspired by Shakespeare plays; extra points if you know from what play they are…or whichever one you find.
Next chapter will come out in about another two/three weeks and a new "From Oblivion" chapter in a week.