The trenches of the line spanned miles in every direction, built hastily by the cults and guard both, somehow the two lines had ended up merging in a way that allowed them to cooperate against the fey assaults while also demarcating their own fronts and forces. It was a complicated mess of a system that more often than not ended up with Imperial and cult forces running into one another by accident, and had on more than one occasion led to massive losses on both sides during the fey assaults.
Despite this threat to their own internal security and the war effort against one another that was going on in tandem with the war against the fey officers and soldiers on both sides overlooked this for one simple reason. The Fey were simply growing far too powerful to be fought off without some kind of cooperation between the two sides.
Their numbers had been increasing over the last few weeks, growing from singular thousands across a mile or two on one section of the front in comparison to tens of thousands of Guard and cultists. It was a numerical difference that the guard and cult had once used to their immense advantage, simply overrunning the fey hunters with numbers or munitions.
Then suddenly the fey xeno's began receiving regular reinforcements across the entirety of the front, and tanks began to appear alongside them. Devastatingly powerful engines of war that required entire platoons of Imperial tanks, or companies of cultist anti-tank troopers to overwhelm and bring down.
The tanks had been a vast force multiplier, and while their numbers had been few and far between so far there had only been a growing number of sightings, and with them the xeno assaults had grown ever more daring and frequent. Greater numbers, Armored support, and even new and more devastating weapons in the hands of the average xeno soldier had only galvanized cult and Guard forces to make their current decision to focus their efforts against the ever growing xeno threat.
In three hours they would wish that they had cooperated more than they already were.
-
He was a Jaeger, the least of the fey, the common soldier, the most expendable member of the hunt. His most defining feature however was his immense age, at least compared to other fey that lived as he was a veteran of the first generation. He had fought in the wars to take the first spire.
He had taken part in the doomed assault upon the cultist's against the Lle ofnadwy (The Dread Place) where the fey had experienced their first true casualties in their wars to bring this planet under the control of the Grand Hunter. He had suffered through the siege of the cultist citadel during the Y frwydr olaf, and he had fought the dread creatures of the dark gods at his creators side, slaying dozens of the Daemons on his lonesome with his rifle alone, and a dozen more with his blade when one of the creatures slashed his rifle in half.
He was old, he was experienced, and he was powerful. After a year of constant slaughter and fighting he had grown taller, stronger, and more magically potent, feeding off the souls of ten thousand dead. Every kill enhanced his subtly, every battle survived made him a better soldier, and after a year at war he stood at over seven foot seven inches tall, with armor of fey working, and an artificer crafted rifle that was far greater than the one he had once used.
He was a leader, a Rhingyll, a Sergeant of the first and highest order, hundreds of other jaegers and even Ritters stood under his command due to his sheer experience and power. Because of his power and position he was a lot more in the know than a lot of his fellow soldiers were, he knew that a grand assault was to soon start and he had been ordered to prepare for it.
While he didn't understand the secrecy behind the assault, as none of the fey would betray the Grand Hunter, their esteemed and magnificent creator he didn't question the decision. He was a Jaeger first, a leader second. He took orders and he obeyed them without question, such was his purpose in life. Given to him by the Grand hunter in the very moment of his creation.
He broke out his internal monologue when he felt the light prodding of magic upon his mind, a message from on high. It was from his personal Marchenfurst, the lord that he had been assigned to a year ago when he was first created. [The Grand Assault has begun. Kill them all. No Retreat. Unleash the Wild Hunt. By Order of his Lordship Linnan]
He grinned and with a pulse of his magic spread the word to all of his soldiers, a thousand fey hunters and a thousand more great hounds rose from their positions of rest. The air, once calm and placid, began to glow with green light as fey magic began to circle through the air as his soldiers enhanced themselves and each other.
It was a common pre battle ritual, because while a Jaeger may not be the most magically powerful of the fey they were still more than capable of using it to even further enhance themselves, especially those that had fed on the souls of those they had killed over time.
He did the same, calling forth his magic to enhance his physical body and strengthen the soul that stood in his core as his anchor to the material world, making himself more real, more powerful, more potent in every way.
As the final minute ticked past and the magic hit its peak he gave the signal his soldiers had been waiting on. He roared, it was a primal scream that sounded like the most grotesque combination of a seal, ox, and deer all combined into one. The hounds took up his roar with one of their own and that was all his soldiers needed to let loose their own fury, jumping over the trenches that had been their homes and racing towards the human lines while he and the hounds quickly overtook them.
He could feel his core beating with exhilaration as the las-bolts of the guard and bullets of the cult began to whiz past his speeding form. He was running, sprinting really, crossing the mile between the lines at a speed the men in front of him obviously found terrifying. Not that they got to be terrified for long, as he let loose hyper accurate shots with his rifle even running at full speed.
Two died in his first burst, their heads blown into a thousand tiny pieces, spraying their fellows with their brain matter and innards. Three more died three seconds later, one with his head gone like the first two, one with his face shredded, and the final one clutching the new fist size hole in his chest.
He was not the only one firing either as the rest of the line of the charge opened up with their own rifles, killing hundreds of the human scum in the first thirty seconds of their charge alone. Cultist and Guardsmen fell one and all, never having even wounded a single of his soldiers in their desperate defense.
Then their true defenses began to open up, heavy bolters, lascannons, heavy stubbers, and the few vehicles that had been stationed in the area. The first casualty was the hound that had been running to his left, slobbering to taste the meat of a man for the first time. She was blown into a thousand pieces of glowing green meat and soul stuff when a chimeras bolter struck true.
It wasn't nearly enough to stop or slow their charge, they had no morale to break, their oaths and inbuilt rush from the hunt far too overwhelming to be broken by the death of one or a hundred. For that was how many were lost before they reached the defenders lines, a hundred fey and hound dead before they got the chance to truly begin their hunt.
He would remember each of them and their names, as was his duty, and he would avenge their deaths with shot and sword. He was the first to reach the human trenches, this one made up of those guardsmen that had been unlucky enough to be stationed at the very front.
He was a whirlwind, a spinning cyclone of green and death as his rifle claimed the lives of dozens while his sword, long and true striking, claimed all those that thought to approach him to engage in true combat. Perhaps they thought he was like one of the space marines, strong and supernaturally fast, but still killable. Still within mortal limits to approach.
Maybe when he was still newborn and young that might have been the case, but now he was strong, and experienced, a swordsman and marksman in one with speed and strength enough to match the Daemons of the warp with ease. All who approached him were thus cut down by fey steel, and those who thought to shoot him from a distance found themselves with new holes courtesy of his expert aim.
He was but the first of his kind to reach the trenches however and soon enough the rest of his soldiers joined him in the fight, killing hundreds of the men that had dared to resist their makers conquest. Ritters destroyed entire walls with their charge, Jaegers mowed down the Guard and their reinforcements en masse, and the hounds ripped the humans to shreds, sometimes swallowing men whole down their cavernous jaws.
And this is how the fight went for hours, him and his men pushing at a lightning pace across the battlefield, confident that the other trenches were being assaulted just as harshly by the rest of the hunt. Cultists and Guardsmen alike fell to the fey assault, and miles of territory was lost under the assault, a process that only sped up when an entire company of panzers appeared and began their own assault.
Unlike men however the fey did not grow tired after a mere sixteen hours of constant fighting, instead their assault continued well after the twenty four hour mark. Their breach growing even wider as they raced across the spires at various levels and depths. Until he saw it, a grand fortress reminiscent of the one he had assaulted in his short youth.
Defended by a million cultists, for the guard had long ago fallen back to their own lines of defense, and every vehicle and heavy weapon the cult was able to bring together over the three days in which their assault had been happening.
For a second he feared their assault would be halted, their divine mission to kill and bring devastation to these wayward souls unfortunately hampered for the moment.
He never should have doubted the hunter, even for a second. As bright Green light began to coalesce over the battlefield he felt himself bolstered as the presence of the Grand Hunter himself made itself known on the battlefield. Their creator had taken to battle himself, and as such they could not lose. This he knew deep in his heart/
Even still the assault was hard, that he could admit. Hundreds of fey died every hour and dozens of Panzer's were destroyed as the cultists refused to give ground. What no one noticed however was how the green glow seemed to grow brighter with every passing second, at least until it basically acted as a second sun in the depths of the under hive, lighting the battlefield and acting as a signal to the hunt that victory was theirs.
And then he saw it, stepping from the mist of the light, 55 meters tall, glowing green and blue its great horns and wings awe inspiring in its magnificence. On one arm it carried a great cannon and in the other a grand blade of green and gold, and behind it two serrated tails whipped across the earth, churning it for all to see in eager glee.
With a grace that was impossible according to all known physical laws the great titan leapt into the air, its wings beating and sending great gusts towards the cultist defenders. In a single leap the titan of gold, green, and blue crossed the mile that separated it from its prey. It slammed into the cultists' lines, sending hundreds of the damned men flying, its shields flickering as every weapon available to the cult turned upon the great war machine and did nothing.
In return he watched as the great machine of marvelous fey artifice and magicks brought its great cannon up, took aim, and unleashed a beam of golden energy that turned half the great fortress into slag and ruined the rest of it. Effectively ending the cult in one swift strike. And then it spoke.
"I am Dyrrath, High Lord of the Wild Hunt, and Fey. I order you all die." The great machine spoke with the synthesized voice of the first Lord. He needed no further guidance as he called his soldiers to him and began a new slaughter of the cultists that had yet to flee their shock and terror was so great.
He would ensure they would not live to regret that decision.
-
With the cultist fortress destroyed he turned the great machine and did as he had been ordered. He began the slow march towards the Imperial lines. It wasn't long before the rest of the army had finished with their slaughter of the cult and arrayed itself around him.
While it was but one part of the three pronged attack on the Imperial lines his army group was by far the largest, not only in manpower but also armored assets, with two of the four panzer companies at his flanks as they raced towards the Imperial lines. As the first Lord of the fey he had been all too happy to take on this task, such was his loyalty and devotion that even the notion of fighting against the full might of the Imperial armies and cultists all in one day had been a pleasure for him to be tasked with.
The great machine had proven its worth as well, being more than worth the cost and time it had taken to create it. The news of his loves pregnancy had been a scare of course, and he had feared it would cost him the chance to pilot the great machine, because he would have had to revolt if his creator had ordered him to end the pregnancy prematurely, but thankfully that had not come to pass and he had the honor of leading the assault.
The hour passed by in relative silence, only the sounds of the wind and his titanic steps marking his passing. The vehicles and soldiers of the fey were far too graceful and sophisticated to create a sound when there was no reason for it. The wild hunt was only wild when its prey was nearby, there was no reason to disturb the peace in the moments between the endless warfare.
While he could have simply stepped through the wilds as his creator called them to instantly appear among the Imperial lines, he needed to be with the rest of the army when they slammed into the imperial lines, shock and force was a lot more effective when you had more than a singular entity actually pushing the line.
Then he saw it, the hundreds of Imperial trenches, thousands of vehicles, and hundreds of thousands of soldiers. He could see the panic start to spread along their lines as he and his war-walker came into sight. He felt nothing as he powered up his cannon and unleashed yet another blast of its golden death, scorching tens of thousands in a singular blast. Their counter fire slammed into his shields, causing minimal losses, and pulling their fire away from his men.
A worthy trade all things considered.
He didn't even bother slowing down as he marched across the wasteland that the spire had transformed into, his cannon firing every minute, slagging vehicles and vaporizing thousands with every blast. Eventually he was close enough that while his cannon continued to fire at the majority of the Imperial forces his sword acted like a wall.
Any vehicle or group of imperials that thought to get too close were destroyed with singular swipes of his great blade. It was a slaughter plain and simple, but not a one sided one. Unlike the cult the Imperials had far more weapons to bring to bear, and their soldiers far better trained and disciplined.
They fought hard against the advance, killing thousands of fey even while they lost tens of thousands. Despite their fierce defense however, they were unstoppable, he was unstoppable. The Imperials fell before his sword and cannon and for a time he believed the spire itself would fall in just a few hours time, after all what could the Imperials do before the power of his Titan?
Then he saw them, monstrously large tanks, five of them with weapons so large they could have fit tanks inside of them. He instantly knew what damaged they posed and brought his canon to bear, ignoring the hundreds of other vehicles that were escorting the beasts and slowly draining his shields.
His first blast slagged the first of the metallic beasts, though only barely as its shields had proven far more powerful than he had imagined they would be, absorbing nearly a third of the blast before they had failed. The other four monstrous tanks saw their comrade's death and the bark of their guns nearly defeaned him as four explosions rippled across his titanic frame.
His shields were gone, and his left wing was damaged beyond repair, but he didn't panic. He instead activated his emergency thrusters and tertiary cores, calling upon all the speed his titans frame could put forward and rushed towards the beasts. His cannon was charged again just a minute later, and yet another of the tanks was slagged.
At the same time he brought his sword around in a strike and severed the front of a different beast. He felt himself tip and vibrate violently as the guns of the last two blew his legs out from under him. He felt his frame go to its knees as the hundreds of other vehicles around him opened up with their own guns, damaging his titan's frame even more as the great tanks reloaded.
He called upon his foresight and looked into the various short term futures ahead of him and made the choice that would not only save his life, but cripple the enemy just a little bit his blade in one hand, and taking careful aim while all of his power cores were spun to full power he threw his blade at the closest of the monstrous tanks. In the next second he was gone, having stepped through the wilds and away from the battlefield.
In the wake of his retreat the assault would slowly come to a grinding halt and a new status quo would establish itself, one with the fey in command of a full 4/5ths of the spire with the guard desperately trying to hold onto its final footholds. All the while thousands of more few continued to reinforce the lines and dozens of new armored assets arrived every week.
The war for the fifth spire was over, it was only a matter of time before the fey had it completely under their control, and from there used it to jump to the other spires.
I watched as the great titan that I had crafted for Dyrrath limped back from the wilds and smiled. I turned away from the sight and towards my war map and its constantly updating situation. It wouldn't be long now, I could feel it, this world would fall to my armies and I would bring true utopia.
A utopia with me at its helm and my fey triumphant. The mental image was enough to make me shudder with pleasure. Yes it wouldn't be long now, I just had to crush the cult, and unfortunately my Emperor's soldiers but it would be worth it in the end, I simply knew it would be. It was too late to think otherwise now.