This story is based upon the fictional setting of one of the many games I play. If you want more explanation of anything go here, but be warned its filled with nerd speak.
The background story is pretty standard. An Ancient Alien Empire now fallen into ruin. A Dying race with advanced technology clinging to survival in a Universe run amok with Orks, Humans and worse. Individual Eldar chooses for himself a discipline, a Path, and will focus himself upon it. This path will be studied, practiced, and eventually mastered. Then the Eldar chooses a new path and the process will begin anew. Each new role does not completely replace the previous, but merely adds to the Eldar's accumulated experience. Eldar live for several human lifetimes and short of falling in battle can accumulate much knowledge. As Eldar pass through these different roles they explore the many aspects of their own character. The Eldar pursuing the Path of the Warrior are known as Aspect Warriors. Each sect of Aspect Warriors focuses on a specialized perspective of warfare. The following intro is standard for stories from this fictional setting.
It is the 41st Millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the master of mankind by the will of the gods, and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die. Yet even in his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will. Vast armies give battle in his name on uncounted worlds.
Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defense forces, the ever vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants—and worse.
To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be re-learned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods.
Part I
Overhead, a sun the color of blood beat down, turning the ash plain into a lake of crimson light. A good Omen, Solara decided. We will sweep the foul influence of Chaos from this world.
The background story is pretty standard. An Ancient Alien Empire now fallen into ruin. A Dying race with advanced technology clinging to survival in a Universe run amok with Orks, Humans and worse. Individual Eldar chooses for himself a discipline, a Path, and will focus himself upon it. This path will be studied, practiced, and eventually mastered. Then the Eldar chooses a new path and the process will begin anew. Each new role does not completely replace the previous, but merely adds to the Eldar's accumulated experience. Eldar live for several human lifetimes and short of falling in battle can accumulate much knowledge. As Eldar pass through these different roles they explore the many aspects of their own character. The Eldar pursuing the Path of the Warrior are known as Aspect Warriors. Each sect of Aspect Warriors focuses on a specialized perspective of warfare. The following intro is standard for stories from this fictional setting.
It is the 41st Millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the master of mankind by the will of the gods, and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die. Yet even in his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will. Vast armies give battle in his name on uncounted worlds.
Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defense forces, the ever vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants—and worse.
To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be re-learned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods.
Part I
Overhead, a sun the color of blood beat down, turning the ash plain into a lake of crimson light. A good Omen, Solara decided. We will sweep the foul influence of Chaos from this world.
He surveyed the scene through the eyes of his Warlock mask, his thick robes fluttering in the breeze. He scanned the horizon, hoping to catch sight of the enemy.
In his mind, lethal energies pulsed and surged. He felt the urge to unleash them creep through him. He was a vessel for powerful psychic energies. All he had to do was focus it through his channeling runes or his witch blade to bring death to the enemies of the Eldar.
His mind cast back to his time as an Aspect Warrior, an experience he hoped never to have to submit himself to again. Countless times, he had stood waiting like this for battle to commence. As a Fire Dragon, Solara had fought on fields of ice under turquoise skies, danced through whirling red dust on burning desert plains, crept through underground labyrinths of dark stone. The ancient weapon he bore remembered too. It had not always been his - he had retrieved it from beside the fallen body of Warlock Tatheya, where she lay surrounded by dead Orks.
The song of wings filled the air as a group of Swooping Hawk Aspect Warriors soared ecstatically into the warm sky. They drifted lazily upward, catching thermals like giant birds of prey. Solara knew that their seeming indolence was illusory. The Keen-eyed Ones kept careful watch in case the enemy attempted a surprise attack.
He studied the Aspect Warriors sitting on the nearby rocks meditating on the inner nature of their weapons. The sun glinted off their blue armor highlighting the rune that marked their Craftworld. Their shuriken catapults lay dormant across their knees. Solara was not fooled by their apparent passiveness; he knew the Dire Avengers could shift from quiet repose to instant action in the blink of an eye.
A high-pitched keening filled the air as the Howling Banshees began performing their deadly dance. Solara watched as the warrior women sparred in slow motion with invisible foes, each movement part of some greater intricate pattern, as if the whole unit were one organism sharing a single mind. Scarlet tresses swept through great arcs as the women swayed. Languorous kicks just seemed to miss each of the dancers. As the ritual continued the pace and flow speedup almost imperceptibly until the Banshees moved and tumbled nearly too fast for the eye to follow, their power swords glinting in the suns light.
A shimmering of air between the gateway tetrahedrons announced the arrival of a squad of chitinously armored Striking Scorpions. They skittered across to the Farseer’s position and bowed before Kelmon, the chosen Battleseer. Kelmon acknowledged their presence with an ornate salute. Mandiblasters clicked in acknowledgment and then they turned and moved to take up a perimeter position.
Nearby atop a great butte, Dark Reapers, arranged in fire teams, stood immobile as statues. Their massive forms radiated menace, yet their presence was strangely reassuring. Solara knew no enemy could approach without being the target of their missile launchers.
A line of Fire Dragons weaved across the plain as the Eldar army arrived through the gateway and assembled, squad by squad, on the plain. A thrill passed through Solara as he realized the extent of the force the Craftworld was fielding. Unit after unit of Guardians arrived and took their place in the formation.Falcon grav tanks began floating into support positions. The Craftworld’s Wraithguard had been awakened. By placing the way stone of a fallen warrior into each Wraithguard frame, our heroes protect us even in death, thought Solara.
As the last of the force assembled, Solara speculated on the nature of the enemy they were to face. The corruption of Chaos must be mighty indeed to justify the deployment of such massive military strength, he thought.
As the formation was nearly complete a change of mood swept through the army. He felt tension galvanize the nearby Dire Avengers. The Banshees ceased their dance and stood poised like deadly ballerinas, waiting. A hush of expectation settled over the assembled Eldar. The whole army held its breath.
Suddenly the smell of ozone filled the air. A crackling, hissing sound emerged from the gateway tetrahedrons. The runes along their sides blazed as if being overloaded with power. A bloody glow illuminated the area between the pyramids.
Space seemed to warp and then the Avatar was there, looming over his honor guard of Exarchs. Even the mighty masked warriors were dwarfed by his massive presence. The incarnation of Khaine stood half again as tall as those who surrounded him. In his right fist he clutched a gigantic battle blade. Molten metal the color of blood dripped from the talons of his left hand. Crimson eyes glowed like red-hot embers within his helm. He swept a burning glance over his awe stricken followers. Solara felt a cold wash of horror drench his soul as he beheld the god like being, followed by an unholy thrill of anticipation.
The Avatar’s incandescent gaze seemed to bore into the very heart of the Eldar Warriors, kindling the battlelust there. All fear, all hesitation was burned away by unholy joy and the desire to kill the enemy. The killing power within them stirred in answer to the being’s call. A cry of pure exultation was torn from Solara’s throat. It mingled with the great roar of the entire army.
The warcry rumbled like thunder over the plain, a shout to inspire pure terror in any living thing that heard it. It continued to rise into crescendo after crescendo until the Avatar made a short chopping gesture for silence. Instantly all was quiet.
Then following thier Bloody Handed God, the Eldar marched for war.
Mix
Then following thier Bloody Handed God, the Eldar marched for war.
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