Forum adverts like this one are shown to any user who is not logged in. Join us by filling out a tiny 3 field form and you will get your own, free, dakka user account which gives a good range of benefits to you: No adverts like this in the forums anymore. Times and dates in your local timezone. Full tracking of what you have read so you can skip to your first unread post, easily see what has changed since you last logged in, and easily see what is new at a glance. Email notifications for threads you want to watch closely. Being a part of the oldest wargaming community on the net. If you are already a member then feel free to login now.

I am eventually going to take part in an Epic campaign entitled 'The Autumn War' alongisde my friends 40KMunda campaign, I felt the urge to write a story...


Saerethil watched as the leaves tumbled from the trees, fluttering slowly to the ground in the slow, undisturbed dance of nature, he felt the urge to join the leaves and to dance on the breeze, but he had more pressing matters. He walked leisurely beneath the branches, Lucan VI, the Mon-Keigh called this world, but his people, the Eldar, used it's true name, Thaeresthil, The Echo of Moonlight. This planet had once belonged to the Eldar, before the Fall and he great Exodus, They had cherished it, nurtured it like a fragile plant. It was because of this that Thaeresthil was a diamond of a world, the most beautiful for light years around. Saerethil passed out of the wood and onto a grass covered hillside, he disapproved of what he saw...

A host of Mon-Keigh blackened the lush plains below him, hundreds of ugly humans and smoke belching war machines. Among the ranks stood three of the Mon-Keigh's crude 'god-machines' two smaller beasts and one that stood half again as tall. His eyes swept across the plains to the border of the woods, his keen vision picked out the Black armoured forms of his kin, Sleek jetbikes weaved through the trees and everywhere Eldar prepared themselves for battle...

The Mon-Keigh had come back to Lucan VI, they would pay for it in blood.

Saerethil sent a quick telepathic message to the Admiral of the Fleet above him, nearly instantly a blinding flash of light smashed into the larger god machine, it's explosion sent debris and shrapnel kilometres into the air, one landed about 20 feet away from Saerethil, but he wasn't looking, he was busy watching the Eldar pour from the trees, led by a burning monster nearly as big as the Mon-Keigh God Machines. So they completed the ritual, and not a moment too soon Saerethil thought. Suddenly a primal urge overtook him, that was the effect the Avatar of Khaine had on the Eldar, he could feel his heart thump in his chest, his mind sang out thoughts and he felt as though his blood sang them back Anger rises, Blood spills, Death wakes, War calls! The last thought rang out in his head and he ran full pelt towards the panicked Mon-Keigh, pausing only to spit on the fragment of the God Machines corpse. Even Gods could die, the Eldar had learned that long ago...

Saerethil ran wild-eyed, all sense of restraint lost in the thrill of the charge
KILL! FOR KAELA MENSHA KHAINE! KILL! BLOOD FOR THE BLOODY-HANDED GOD!
The last thought shocked him, it was too close to other cries he had heard from damned mouths, but now was not the time for doubt, his kin had closed with the Mon-Keigh, the incandscent Avatar fighting a duel with one of the Mon-Keigh God-Machines...

The fight had begun, there was a place for Saerethil waiting in the Maelstrom...

To Be Continued...

Private Jan Oldrich never thought he would die like this...

Eldar swarmed all over the battleline, the Titans were down and the Guard were in disarray, entire squads were being pulled down by bloodthirsty xenos, Jan barely had time for this miniature reverie before he was frantically thrusting his bayonetted las-rifle at indistinct, coloured blurs. This was no way to fight a battle, back on Jan's homeworld, during his training, the commissars had told him that war was a glorious thing were untold legions of humans pushed back and destroyed filthy traitors and cowering xenos. Lies, lies and propaganda is all it really was...

Another brief respite allowed Jan to gaze across the battlefield, the Guard were falling back, over half the Platoons fleeing and most of the rest destroyed, the fleeing troops made Jan's heart sink, that meant the Commissars, who had seemed untouchable during his training, were all dead, all of them...

He spotted the robed form of Inquisitor Grey, the man who was oddly modest for an inquisitor, staring defiantly at the Eldar's incandescent war-god, Grey lunged forward, his archaic sword gleaming brighter than the sun...

Jan's head exploded in pain and he cried out as he twirled to the ground, just seeing the fading form of the Eldar warrior clad in Black that had smashed his head in, no, this was not how Jan Oldrich had expected to die...

To be Continued...

Sounds good so far.Keep it coming.

And it was not...

The black lifted from his vision and he got groggily to his feet, Jan gazed around, seeing black corpses and ruin everywhere. The ratio was not good, there were at least ten Guardsmen lying in the dirt for every Eldar. How could they possibly win this war if this was the kind of opposition they were to face? He wondered if any of his squad, hell, any of his platoon had made it out alive. Anyway, here he was out in the middle of nowhere when his brothers-in-arms who had fled were back at camp, unless they had been scythed down whilst fleeing.

"It wakes" A distorted voice gurgled from behind him, he spun to see an Eldar warrior, clad in red and white armour that was impossibly bulky. Glowing orbs gazed back from it's Arachnid helmet. "Time for sport, yes?" Jan leaped out of the way as the creature charged him, he expected it to land face-first in the dirt, opening a window of vulnerability for Jan to strike, but it vanished in thin air. The hairs on the back of Jan's neck stood on end as he got a nasty feeling it had appeared behind him...

Instinctively he grabbed his lasgun off the floor and leapt remarkably high, porbably due to gravity or somesuch as the alien darted beneath him, he came down with perfect timing to plunge his rifle's bayonet into the skull of his enemy. The Alien convulsed in surprise, then drooped and hung limply. With a sickening sound, Jan unsheathed his bayonet from his foe's cranium and he stood up. He saw no point in waiting around here for another alien to come and kill him.

Without a moments hesitation, Private Jan Oldrich bravely shouldered his Lasgun and ran.

Without a moments hesitation, Private Jan Oldrich bravely shouldered his Lasgun and ran.

I love it. This is shaping up to be really good, p4nc4k3!

BTW, The beforementioned Epic Campaign probably will not happen now, but I'm finishing this story nontheless, just a small bit today

The Sentries were at first unaware of the black speck in the distance, slowly approaching the camp. By the time they noticed it it had become a dot, and they were curious...

Then it became a blob, and they became wary...

Then it became a figure, and they became concerned...

Then it became Private Jan Oldrich, and they were relieved...

"It's Oldrich!" One sentry exclaimed, "How the hell did he get out of there with all his body parts?"
"I don't know" replied another Sentry "But I'll wager he'll make Sergeant for this..."

To Be Continued...