When a plan comes together... (Part 3)

Xylar finished his work and stepped back from the console he had just finished assembling. Reaching out to close the contacts and turn on the device but he stopped. His hand trembled and would not do as he bid. He stood, rigid, feeling the fog descend on his mind again.

He closed his eyes and listened to the rain falling on the roof of the metal building. He could almost hear the whisper in the back of his head. Almost. He knew it wasn't any language he should be able to understand, but he feared he already knew what it meant. Some other will, something alien, was in his head. Focussing, he exerted his will for control of his own mind. Slowly, deliberately, he drove the presence out of him. His own force of will was very strong, but this ... thing was growing stronger again. He had grown used to the pattern. It would grow stronger week by week until it became almost unbearable, he would experience blackouts more and more often. People he would associate or do business with would succumb to it as well, some would disappear - especially if they suspected who he was. When the struggle became too much, he would flee and find a new planet, then the cycle began anew.

And silence falls... - (Part 2)

Mitsuko stood upon the crag and looked up at the stars as the freezing wind whipped about her. It was
strange not to psychically sense home. She'd been in warpstorms before, but this was something else entirely. It was like absolute silence instead of a dull roaring and screaming intermixed that the storms brought on. She imagined that the Navigators were losing their minds about now. Other psykers were probably pretty scared or lost as well. She and her Astropath, Belford, knew this was coming and were prepared for the shock. They did however, expect to stop it. This was her biggest failure in a while.

It had been a long time since she had been duped by another person, and she had lived longer than most. Xylar was, in her defense, an exceptional person. Highly intelligent and inventive, he was a very formidable and dangerous foe. Still, for all his guile, he had been very predictable for the last 15 years, despite his almost supernatural ability to escape at the last moment. This misdirection had come out of nowhere. She had piles of parts manifests, travel documents, correspondence and multiple missing persons reports that all lead her team here.

The Chase - (Part 1)

Mitsuko watched the shuttle soar into the heavens. Her prey had gotten away again. Two more years of
tracking and undercover work gone. How did he keep doing that?. She shrugged almost imperceptibly. She would find him again. For now, she needed to tend to her own.

Some of her crew were wounded, and others were in other locations in an attempt to get ahead of Xylar before he could get to a ship and get off world. He did have a knack for escape in addition to being able to sense a trap, usually at the expense of his own crew. She looked over at the captured and dead crewmates of Xylar's. One was writhing in obvious agony while clutching his head, but didn't have any visible wounds. That's okay. She had that effect on men sometimes.

Fiction - Merchant Adventures (part 1)

Annabelle Evarion trudged up the path towards the little village she’d heard about over a game of cards. The village wasn’t well known but what she’d heard was that therein lived a simple wainwright that built the sturdiest wagons within 500 leagues. She’d spent the last of her inheritance here in a grand investment plan. She had to get rich, or she’d be in trouble, especially if her father found out that she’d taken her inheritance before he was actually in the grave.

Fiction - An Old Tale

This is a telling of an event long ago. I was still an apprentice to Nel'waith at the time. He had a fascination with the Humans and watched them often. Admittedly I was left with a similar curiosity and have kept up with some of his subjects. One of which was one Tarvis Larkaan, whom is of special interest to me. My mentor watched him for a long time. His fate was very tangled, but with some 'help' he achieved his destiny. This is how it began...

Fiction - New Orders

(I've actually had this story in my head since seeing Inquisition seemingly moved from Sisters of Battle to Grey Knights. Time unfortunately has been against me lately and I have been unable to post it.)

Inquisitor Seriphena Weston walked out upon the landing platform, her armored boots ringing on the deck plating. The stormtroopers standing guard stood a little straighter when she passed. She recognized trooper Pavkin and greeted him warmly. She approached the Valkyrie that was perched on the deck like a crouching beast. She could see the pilot going through pre-flight rituals. Servitors were loading crates and equipment into the rear door. Some of the battle sisters were loading ammo crates into the side door. Seriphena grabbed one end of an ammo crate with her free hand and helped a sister she didn't recognize load a crate. She smiled as the sister thanked her. Seriphena stepped aside as Sister Superior Annalisa walked over and the two exchanged the formal pleasantries before settling into a less formal conversation. Seriphena liked that some of the sisters could feel comfortable around her. She knew that Inquisitor Husqmann was far more formal and ... stuffy with the girls. Well he was stuffy with everyone actually.

Fiction - The Origin of Autarch Ry'hanna Skyblade (part 3)

This is the tale of how Ry'hanna ech'Tyur Skyblade came to us on Iybraesil and how she found the path of leadership with us. These are the her trials as she conveyed them to me, and some of which I Saw in the runes. -Farseer Elorrah

Ranger Ry'hanna stepped through the webway portal onto the the cool grassy ground. She sank to her knees and closed her eyes and just concentrated on breathing. The air smelled faintly of cinnamon and roses. Behind her the Pathfinders followed through as well, all three of them showing exhaustion in similar fashion. No'ahl, Torrum, and Kah'hal were the only ones remaining of the small band that had showed up to rescue her, but wound up pinned down with her. Kah'hal's eyes still had that haunted, faraway look to them as he lay there recovering. Had that Void Dragon not shown up when it did none of them would have made it out alive.

Fiction - The Origin of Autarch Ry'hanna Skyblade (part 1)

Ry'hanna ech'Tyur of the Skyblade clan and her cousin Allonia lived on the Saim Hann craftworld. Naturally, they learned the jetbike and even talked as children of following the path of the Shining Spear. As adults this was not to be so. Ry'hanna did not feel the path of the Warrior's call in her heart. Instead she became an artisan. Allonia felt the calling of the Scorpion, and joined that Aspect. For many decades they would not see one another, or maybe just in passing, until a fateful day when Saim Hann had wandered near an Exodite world. The Exodite world had been invaded by Imperial forces and the Craftworld responded sending relief forces. Ry'hanna was called upon to fulfill her role as a guardian and took to battle on the back of her jetbike with the others. After a very successful battle, the Exodites were feasting the victorious off-world Eldar and Ry'hanna and Allonia had a chance meeting.

Fiction - The Siege of Vardash III

It seemed like years since the occupation had begun. At first it seemed like a few malcontents dissatisfied with Imperial rule, then some spoke out, later, it was government edicts that didn't make any sense. Now, huddled in the basement of a ruined building, things looked dire. And very real. Slowly, Port Munio had become haven to heretics or mutants or ... something. Last week when the first of them emerged from the sewers and dark places, all hunched and some sporting a third arm, almost all of them with talons and beady eyes, that's when the riots began. They seemed to be in charge, and the towns people followed them almost robotically, even those in government were no better than the lowliest worker. Those not under this mind control or whatever it was, were in hiding, in places like this. It's possible this was the last packet of survivors. In the last few hours, packs of ... things, six limbed creatures with slavering jaws had been wandering the streets, helping to hunt down people who had not been placed under control.
There were perhaps 60 or 70 people in the basement, the door barricaded which resounded with a rythmic thumping as forces outside pounded at it with some random deritus. One man sat at a small table in the corner with a transmitter of some sort, futilly calling for help that wasn't coming. Another man sat, his child held close in one hand, hugging a makeshift grenade in the other. Whether he meant it for himself or the enemy was unknown. Men, women and childen wept openly, some tried to hide it, as if there were some dignity left for them here. Maybe a half dozen people had second hand lasguns, for what good they would do. There was a sound of distant scrabbling, as if something were burrowing. They didn't know where it came from, and had found it was near impossible to acertain with so many people in such a small space. They all knew the end was near, hope had left Vardash III long ago.
Far above in space floated two Imperial vessels. One, the Hammerhand, carried a compliment of Imperial Fist marines, the other, Voice of Redemption and it's accompanying smaller vessels home to an Inquisitor of the Ordo Malleus. Onboard both ships, preparations were underway to take to the planets' surface. The subject of a 4 day search had just been located. A shuttle known to have been carrying a Chaos Lord, his retinue and some device that xenos notes had revealed to be "devestating on a planetary scale". Nearly too late, sensors picked up a large mass moving towards the planet. Too slow to be a meteor, it was to large to be something constructed, deeper scans confrimed biomass, it was a Tyranid ship. Moving to intercept, both battleships spat fire into the bio-ship, which didn't fight back. The combined fire made quick work of the bloated ship and it ruptured and seemed to be bleeding droplets of ichor into space. Larger drops turned out to be mycetic spores spilling from the ship and entering the upper atmosphere of the planet. They continued downward until they were no longer reachable by scan. Attempts to fire upon the pods were mostly ineffectual. The ships reoriented themselves to their original orbit and began launching landing craft and drop pods. They would bring hope back to Vardash III.

Fiction - Eldar short story.

A little short story I wrote inspired by a game with a friend.

Fo'glaim listened to the war-chatter of the Farseer's thought network in his mind and to the other craft cruising towards the front line. The other Eldar across the ruined Imperial outpost were moving early and so were they. His canopy display showed the mon-keigh ruins clearly despite the pre-dawn condition and off to his right he could see the dark spots which clearly marked the obelisks of the Ancient ones the humans had uncovered. He felt a twinge of nervousness go down his spine and the Farseer's thoughts once again turned his direction and sounded loudly in his head. He realized after a moment that it wasn't he the Farseer was talking to but instead to the Phoenix Lord riding in his Wave Serpent with the Howling Banshees he was directed to deliver to battle. This was his first battle as a pilot, but he was confident in his abilities. Doubt gnawed at him though, it was his duty to deliver a Phoenix Lord, Jain Zar nonetheless into battle. A truly tremendous task! If he failed in that, what would become of him?
Chun Sosai transporting the Dire Avengers was the first pilot to report contact. This wasn't surprising, it was well known that their pilot was a bit rash. It was also said that he had come from the Saim Hann craftworld and had initially learned with their Wind Riders. Chun Sosai reported 2 Falcon tanks directly ahead of him. "This is it" Fo'glaim thought as he poured on the speed trying to avoid being hit by laser fire from a third Falcon trying to outflank. Gripping the controls, he swung his transport low trying to stay close to the ground to get cover from the ruined buildings. Feeling more confident as laser fire streaked nearby but not scoring hits he allowed a smile. Jain Zar's thoughts exploded into his head then.
Get Closer! she thought-screamed into his head. He could feel the contained rage behind her thoughts. It nearly drove him into a battle lust. He couldn't imagine what it must be like for those following the Path of the Warrior. For the Banshees it must be like going to battle with a goddess on their side or worse, driving them.
He pushed the throttle of his transport gaining altitude and climbing over the ruin ahead of him. At the apex of his maneuver, he saw an enemy transport targeting him and fired first. He scored a hit, but didn't see what kind of damage he did. Clearing the building he dove close to the ground again, looking for a place to allow his charges out safely and yet close enough to the enemy to engage. He thought he spotted just such a place and began to adjust his descent when a thought-warning snapped him back to wariness. A group of Fire Dragons beyond the ruin had drawn bead on him as he cleared the building. He had just enough time to silently curse himself for letting his attention wander when the whole transport jolted violently. He saw the energy field surrounding his tank flare and fizzle as it tried to compensate for the incoming heat weapons. He also felt pain in his mind through the mindlinks to his vehicle. Everything felt sluggish as he fought to keep control of his craft. He also fought despair as he felt imminet failure in his duty, but then everything went black.

Fo'glaim awoke to two things. The first was a pounding, both in his head and on the outside on the hull, which he realized was one of the enemy's Farseers trying to wreak further havoc on the crippled craft. The other thing was the psychic howl from the Banshee warriors as they crashed into the farseer. Fo'glaim didn't think the farseer knew what hit him. There wasn't much left as the Banshees turned and took off after other prey. Jain Zar was directing them to attack something to the rear, while she ran to attack the warriors that had brought down their craft.
He quickly took stock of his situation. His craft was down, the nose buried in dirt at the base of a rock outcropping. Carbon scoring and holes decorated the front of his precious Wave Serpent. He feebly tried the controls, and checked the power circuts. There was power to life support and the secondary weapons, but he was immobilized and his main weapons were offline. A powerful explosion struck nearby and he heard the psyichic death screams of the Banshees. Craning his head around and looking through the rear of the canopy he could see the ground littered with bodies amidst a crater. Beyond them was a squad of Dire Avengers reloading their weapons. Obviously they'd emptied them into the Banshees. Suddenly frantic, he glanced around. Dire Avengers didn't carry firepower enough to make a crater! Then he spotted it. That flanking Falcon had levelled them with a shot in their midst! It was drawing bead on him now. He curled up into a ball as best he could inside his cockpit in an attempt to protect himself. He could feel the hair stand up on his head a moment before the lasers rocked the entire vehicle sideways slightly. The dreaded explosion never came, but the rest of the systems registered no power.
The third Wave Serpent from his warhost slid into view to his left and just above as it disgorged the eerie Wraithguard onto a hill nearby. They were obviously trying to secure that hill as the enemy had deemed it valuable. Before the other craft could get clear, a missle slammed into the tank! The dull thrum of the engines became a pitiful whine as the grav systems failed. The other Wave Serpent settled to the ground with a crunch nearly on top of his own, but the pilot still had weapon control and began firing at whatever targets he could find.
Ahead, Jain Zar became a whirling storm of devestation as she engaged the Fire Dragons in combat. They pushed forward to meet her charge, but they met only death accompanied by the sound of her battle scream amplified by her mask to strike fear in the very soul. Not many could stand up to that onslaught, and they were no exception. Her blade cut them down one after another. They attempted to fight back, but seemed little threat to her. Before she could finish the squad off however she was set upon by the enemy's own Banshees! Terrible screams and flashing blades filled the air. Alone she stood against a full squad of her own Aspect. She turned aside blow after blow as she struck down her own kin. Her own warriors. They fought by her teachings, but she couldn't defeat them all. Blows were landed that cut through her armor as if it weren't there. Wounded and bleeding, she laughed. The mask amplified it into a horrible thing. The Banshees were not prepared for this and, gripped in fear they had not known before, fled from the battlefield. The Fire Dragons occupied her long enough for the Banshees to make it safely away before they were cut down. Fo'glaim watched as she turned and headed back his way. He could feel her fury burn as she saw the devastation that was only moments ago her own Banshee warriors littering the field. The Dire Avengers that had helped cut them down were climbing back into their own downed transport to finish reloading. She was very intent on them and didn't see the enemy Falcon bearing down on her until it was too late. Laser and missle fire hit all about her. When the smoke cleared there was nothing left.
Fo'glaim screamed at the Falcon in rage. He pounded on the canopy trying to get it open. He didn't know what he was going to do, but he had to do something. Maybe he could distract it to keep it from killing any more of his kin. He had just tripped the manual release when the enemy tank's own grav engines spat fire and it settled to the ground. Looking over his shoulder, Fo'glaim saw his own warhost's Falcon hovering nearby. The turret gunner gave him a thumbs up before swinging his guns around at another target.
Three jetbikes screamed down from above settling in a defensive position next to his tank. Whether they were there for his protection or some other reason he never knew. Before the jetbikes had finished moving into position they all exploded from the hail of shuriken from the freshly reloaded Avengers. Fo'glaim had dived back into his seat from the flurry of monofiliment disks peppering the hull of his craft. He didn't know what to do. He could try and run, but that enemy tank was still out there, even if it were immoble now. Those Avengers were going to reload and then come finish him off. He was sure of it!
Moments passed. The sound of laserfire and explosions had all but died down. He risked a peek out of his cockpit. Back towards his own side it looked like figures were cheering in the ruins. He looked round for the enemy Avengers but they were gone!! The opposing force were quitting the field. Somehow, they'd won!!

Much later, as the bonesingers were trying to coax his crippled craft out of the ground, he wandered over to the crater where he'd last seen her. He scoured the area but couldn't find any sign that Jain Zar had ever been there. No scraps of cloth, no broken armor, nothing. It was like she hadn't been there at all. He looked off in the distance wistfully, content in the knowledge he'd seen something that other Eldar lived their whole lifetimes and never witnessed. He'd seen a Phoenix Lord in action, doing what they do, the only thing they knew how to do. He smiled to himself hoping that it wasn't the last time he'd see it either.