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Somewhere on the Galactic Fridge

The great dragons moved as they had done for countless generations. The huge beasts moved across the fertile plains, their gargantuan bulk possessing its own measure of grace as the setting sun splashed against the deep hued reptilian flesh. Almost lost between the dragons’ shadows and the twilight, small groups of lithe humanoids strolled peacefully behind the great creatures, talking and laughing as another day drew to a close. Here and there, one stopped momentarily to pick up a piece of drift wood for the evening’s fire, displaying no concerns passed the immediate needs for food and shelter. It was a pristine scene and for a few moments, the person observing it regretted his need to interrupt it. Shaking his head to clear his mind, the observer began walking down towards his kinsmen where they had begun bedding down among the dragons for the evening.

A lone sentinel rose to challenge him as he crossed the grasslands, but he was quickly ushered forward on being recognized. Sure steps carried him through the encampment, the threads of the future having shown him where he would find the man he sought. He moved with the natural quiet and grace of his race, and for a second he hoped to even have the advantage of surprise over his quarry, but as he stooped to enter the makeshift shelter of fallen tree branches and bundles of grass, a lilting voice called out to him, “What would you have of me, Kae Kaedr Ed?”

The observer cringed at having part of his real name spoken so openly and turned towards the voice. Before him stood an Eldar who appeared young, save for the hint of countless centuries of experience present in his dark eyes. The Eldar’s body remained well muscled and in his hands he held a primitive herding spear as naturally as if he were born with it. The man’s savage appearance of loose hair and little clothing belied the fact that he was once one of the fiercest warriors of his people. Selecting his words carefully, Kae Kaedr spoke, “There is one final oath Khaine needs you to fulfill, Hae Con Ad.”

“I left the path of Khaine long ago. I fulfilled all my oaths at the cost of my soul. Now I am here to find it once more. You would deny me that chance?”

“The Monkeigh have found Persephone.”

With but a simple nod, the warrior ducked inside his shelter and pulled out a small black box inlaid with runes of warding that glistened a deep blue in response to Kae Kaedr’s presence. With a small click, the lid of the box slid back seemingly into nothingness from the depths of the box, a dark green face stared back at the two Eldar, red eyes hungering for blood in the moon light as a little tail seemed to coil in the darkness, preparing once more to strike at its foes and revel in their death.

Newly colonized world, code named “Kishar IV”

The planet’s beauty was not completely lost on Under-Sergeant Harper. In the back of his mind, Kishar’s rolling plains and verdant forests recalled ancient archetypes of what a paradise would be. He had even taken the opportunity to swim in one of the planet’s pleasant crystal blue lakes since the entire world was still pollution free. In the forefront however, the young NCO was focused on the task at hand. His body cramped from lying in the prone for the better part of two days, his left hand holding the detonator for a series of mines. He took care to remain motionless, using only his eyes to scan the dense undergrowth of the forest. His eyes caught on a small blur, seemingly half shadow and half light. Focusing on it, he saw the blur slowly move towards him, its colors shifting subtly with the odd movement. Eldar, a little voice whispered unbidden in his head.

Harper continued tracking the blur’s movement, its lithe outline becoming slowly more defined as it approached the Guardsmen’s position. In the corner of his eye, Harper caught and began tracking a second blur that seemed to follow the first but the bulk of his attention remained on the leading blur. The incandescent figure moved slowly through the forest, meticulously scanning the area and placing his footfalls gently on the forest floor, taking great lengths not to make a sound. Just a step closer…

The explosion spoiled the normal noises of the forest, shredding the Eldar’s protective cloak and leaving an all too visible ruined body on the ground. Harper swiveled his eyes to the second form and was pleased to see a second alien lying on the ground. A series of explosions fell nearby, as his partner fired a protective screen of grenades nearby to simulate a mortar strike. The quiet quickly returned to the forest, and the two Guardsmen each slowly counted to one hundred. Seeing no other noises or sounds, they slowly crept forward to search the enemy bodies. Under-Sergeant Harper rifled through the alien’s body, careful to avoid any of the weird Eldritch runes that still emitted their unearthly light while his partner kept a watch over the area. The search yielded nothing. It never really did, since any of the conventional items the troopers were taught to look for would simply appear alien and meaningless to them anyway.

Shaking his head, Under-Sergeant Harper and his partner melded back into the shadows, headed towards the next ambush point they were designated to overwatch. It would be another three days before he could break off this patrol and return to the regimental camp for some down time. Until then, the shadow war would continue in the depths of Kishar IV’s wilderness and as the troopers faded into the rampant undergrowth, the forest’s carrion emerged to claim the latest fallen.

Wow, really love it.

I hope that there will be more

I plan on updating semi-regularly. The frequency depends mostly on my level of motivation but I do intend to complete this thread. Next installment below. Enjoy.

Imperial Headquarters, Kishar IV

The underground bunker was bathed in soft blue light, frenzied staff officers tracking the yellow icons representing Imperial forces and marking the suspected xenos positions in red as reports trickled in from forward scouts. A central holograph showed the Imperial battle lines, 4 tightly clustered encampments that contained the battalions of the 62nd Veridian Infantry (Mechanized). The 62nd’s heavy equipment was already entrenched, Chimera’s and Leman Russes with multiple fighting positions supporting miles of trenchline and heavy weapons to protect the perimeters. Batteries of Griffons and Basilisks were housed centrally in each encampment, emplaced so that the heavy guns could support the defense of all encampments. Hidden inside these monstrous fire bases, the companies of the 9th Choson Infantry (Light) went almost completely unnoticed except for the occasional yellow blips near the encampment that designated a screen line from a Scout Sentinel Squadron or the odd patrol trying to come to grips with their elusive foes.

Chomping impatiently on a cigar, Colonel-General Radamov stared intensely at the display, trying to find the flaws and weak points in his positions. A tank commander by trade, Radamov was not accustomed to this type of war. A mere Captain during the Armageddon campaign, he had risen quickly through the ranks through a combination of attrition and merit. His company, and later his battalion, had earned reputations for aggressive attacks that had broken the back of more than one orc offensive in the ash wastes and he distinctly preferred that style to the sitting war he was engaged in now. For weeks now, he had been trying to come to grips with the aliens but any attempt at open maneuver resulted in devastating ambushes that left platoon and company sized formations decimated with little to show in the way of results. Instead, he had been forced to let his heavy formations sit idle, using their presence to unsuccessfully lure the Eldar to him while his light infantry fought as skirmishers underneath Kishar’s green canopies. The only vaguely comforting thought in that was that the 9th had acquitted itself very well so far, with over a hundred confirmed xenos kills for about an equal number of Guardsmen. And there were always Guardsmen to spare, but the best estimates put the total number of aliens at roughly five hundred…although they were five hundred of what his xenologist called “Aspects” and the notion of facing an army of warriors of which even the youngest had centuries of experience made his stomach a little queasy. Far better to fight orcs. At least those bastards try to kill you honestly.

“Sir?” the quiet, near whisper, voice of an aid interrupted his thoughts.

“What is it?”

“Fleet reports a massive warp signature entering the system. Location was approximately 3 light hours away from the planet, then the signature mysteriously cloaked. Intelligence believes xenos reinforcements are now en route to Kithar and will be able to make a significant impact on the fight in the next 24 to 48 standard Terran hours.”

A long string of curses shattered the relative calm of the command post as the aid frantically rushed to connect the Colonel-General to his forces in orbit.

Outer orbit of Kishar IV

Kae Kaedr stared into the vastness of space, his third eye seeing the frantic zigzagging of monkeigh escort vessels as they tried to locate his cruisers. It was a futile effort. The Eldar technology, along with Kae Kaedr’s psychic efforts would keep his small fleet well hidden until the reinforcements he brought were planet side. The main Imperial fleet lurked near the other side of the planet, keeping a careful distance from where they had seen the warp signature the Eldar vessels left upon entry into the system. If only they would come a little closer, the Farseer had little doubt he would be able to cripple the monkeigh fleet and force them to retreat from the system but the human admiral had apparently fought the Eldar before and had a healthy respect for what their ships could do at short range. A pity I couldn’t bring the craftworld… But his vision of the future had been clear that bringing the craftworld to the defense of this maiden world would have dire consequences down the line. Instead, Kae Kaedr would have to content himself with some heavier vehicles and more aspect warriors with which to break the monkeigh’s tenuous hold on the planet below.

The cruiser shuddered slightly as another flight of landing craft departed for the planet’s surface, the cloaked vessels streaking towards the beautiful greens and blues of Persephone below. Two more flights, and his forces would be in position. His scouts had tracked the monkeigh to a series of defensive positions from which they were not budging except for little patrols. An interesting strategy for the monkeigh, who were normally too impatient to fight that kind of battle. He would have to find a way to exploit their temperamental nature….and, Kae Kaedr thought as his eyes drifted to the piles of spirit stones retrieved from Persephone’s surface, avenge those who had fallen to bring him that information.

Turning sharply on his heels, Kae Kaedr strode towards the launch bay. The monkeigh did not have long before their weak souls would become so much fuel for the denizens of the warp.

Deep in the forests of Kishar IV

Hae Con fell silently from the tree branches, chain sword humming to life in his hands. He dropped right between the two Guardsmen who had been silently stalking forwards and in one smooth swing, his blade cut through the leading soldier’s torso and into the second soldier’s neck, leaving both of them dead before either truly registered the danger. Nearby, more chain swords made quick work of the monkeigh’s three other companions and as the pleasure of the hunt swept through him for the first time in centuries, Hae Con let out an ululating war cry that echoed hauntingly through the forest.

Hearing the cry, Under-Sergeant Harper paused briefly, trading a concerned look with his partner before both of them doubled the pace. It was tough going for the two of them, the Under-Sergeant nursing a wounded arm and his partner a badly mauled leg and they supported each other through the treacherous terrain. From his back pack dangled three green helmets with red eyes, their visages cast as predators ready to strike. The complexion of the shadow war had changed, and not for the better.

I like it. Good story already.

Imperial Firebase, Designated “LZ Red”

The earth rumbled, causing bits of dirt to fall through the cracks of plywood used to shape the bunkers overhead cover. Holoscreens flickered as the little clods fell through them and then quickly stabilized, the outbound rounds appearing as little yellow dots before reaching the height of their trajectory and plunging back to the ground. The results of their impact echoed through the trees from over the horizon and the whole process repeated itself every few seconds as the well trained artillery crews above the command post continued to fire.

Oblivious to the cascading dirt, Colonel-General Radamov chomped irritably on his cigar as he stared at the maps in front of him with the commanders of the 62nd and 9th Regiments alongside him. For the past week, the Eldar had harassed his patrols at every opportunity. The 9th had taken heavy casualties and despite some evidence that the xenos were taking losses, moral was quickly dropping as their foe continued to hide in the sylvan depths of Kishar IV while refusing any direct engagements.

“Bait. We need some kind of bait,” Radamov managed to tersely say while talking around the stub of a cigar in his mouth. He wasn’t sure what he could do to make the Eldar attack his prepared positions, but there had to be something he could do. He continued to ponder the problem as more clumps of dirt fell around the assembled commanders, the rounds this time arcing out to call in targets identified by a sentinel squadron miles away from the fire base.

Colonel Smiles, the slender, misnamed commander of the 9th Choson spoke up first: “The aliens will never attack one of these fire bases so long as they are well defended by armor. We need to give them a weak point somewhere.”

His counterpart, a heavy set, balding man who was never seen without the dumpy blue winter hat favored on his homeworld, snorted slightly in response: “If the damn xenos would just meet my armor on open terms, this fight would be over already.”

Radamov tuned out his two subordinates as they continued to argue over what exactly would induce the Eldar to attack. He tried to remember all the details his xenologist had told him about the Eldar race. Patient, smart, overbearing to the point of arrogance and a distinct dislike of all the younger races. They consider man to be particularly impatient and aggressive, barely sentient above a stock jungle cat or monkey. Certainly not clever enough to compete with them on equal terms. He let the various pieces of information bounce around his head like the pieces to a puzzle, trying to match them up neatly in his mind to form a solution. Finding something that he liked, the Colonel-General smiled slightly and held up his hands for quiet. Obediently, both regimental commanders quickly shut their mouths.

“The Eldar expect us to be rash. So we will be rash. The 62nd will remove all its vehicles and infantry from this fire base…here;” a quick tap of the map with a cigar to emphasize his point before continuing. “The mechanized forces will fall back unto Firebase Red using routes covered by artillery and air craft. Colonel Smiles, the 9th will occupy this fire base minimally. A battalion, no more. That should induce the aliens to attack. I don’t think they can resist the opportunity to destroy a part of our force piecemeal.”

Colonel Smiles shook with anger as he stared at the holographic projections. The Colonel-Generals orders meant that up to a third of his regiment would be left in harm’s way, with nothing bigger than an 88mm mortar for indirect support. It would be impossible to survive, let alone hold, the proposed positions. Forcing a measure of composure and decorum into his voice, Colonel Smiles turned on Radamov and forced out a strained tone: “And with this sacrifice, what would you hope to accomplish sir?”

“That is where I come in,” a deep voice answered from the corner of the room. Stepping into the dim light, the figure dwarfed everyone else in the room even though he was forced to stand hunched over. Despite the dark robes he wore, strong muscles were clearly evident and he moved with a subtle grace and dignity as he took his place at the war council. “The men of the 9th will not fight alone.”

Unknown location, deep woods of Kishar IV

Hae Con smiled beneath his mask as he surveyed the carnage around him. Blood stained the otherwise verdant foliage as his Scorpions made their way through the woods. Thick plumes of black smoke roiled through the area, being pushed by the wind from the flaming wreckage of a human war machine. Perhaps as many as a score of dead monkeigh now littered this part of the woods, none having survived his squad’s deadly ambush. Touching a rune on his armor, Hae Con scanned the woods slowly, transmitting images of the deadly scene directly to Kae Kaedr. In direct response, Hae Con received an image of a nearby shrine and he began making his way towards it. From the emotional undercurrents, the Scoprion Exarch suspected the Farseer had good news to impart to him.


Under-Sergeant Harper had decided that if he survived this campaign, he was volunteering for duty in a more conventional regiment. Throwing himself to the aside, he barely ducked underneath the vicious swing of a Scorpion’s chainsaw. The body of one of his squad mate’s lying at an odd angle in the underbrush told him not everyone was as lucky today. Rolling into a crouch, he flicked his boot knife straight forwards and smiled briefly as he saw it lodge in the throat of the charging alien as he sought to press his advantage. The Eldar dropped to his knees, the terrifying visage of his mask unchanging as the alien began choking on its own blood. Obviously never been in a street fight before.

Swinging around, Harper began firing his lasgun at two other Scorpions who were butchering their way through the other troopers. He had the satisfaction of seeing one of them go down, neat little scorch marks on the back of his armor before the other turned to face him down. Using a large tree to cover his back side, the NCO was forced to admit that the odds were not in his favor. Three of the aliens were still on their feet and seemingly unharmed; while only a single other trooper showed any signs of life as he writhed on the ground and moaned pitifully. Three of the aliens also lay motionless on the ground, but this didn’t seem to faze his aggressors as they split wide, coming at him from his front and sides at once, the seasoned warriors taking care to time their movements so that he couldn’t break against any of them at once and try to even the odds a little. Discarding his lasgun, Harper drew two more knives from his wrist pockets. He wouldn’t be able to parry the aliens’ swords, but he would have better odds of surviving than trying to fight them with a bayonet.

Some unseen communication passed between the three of them as they stopped their advance, the one facing him in the front drawing his pistol and aiming it squarely at Harper. He threw a knife in response, but gulped in horror as the alien casually deflected the darting missile with his sword. So much for that plan…

A deep thudding sound interrupted the unfolding hunt, the Eldar with the drawn pistol vaporizing into a fine mist of blood, bone and ceramite armor in front of him as a 40mm autocannon round connected with the unfortunate alien’s chest. Without thinking about it, Harper threw himself at the alien on his right, receiving a burn on his arm as the alien’s helmet shot something at him but he was quickly inside the Scorpion’s guard, tackling him to the ground and using his momentum to impale his knife in the xenos’ gut. More autocannon shells whizzed overhead as Harper pressed his elbow under the alien’s neck, pinning him to the ground as he retrieved his knife for a fatal stab in the throat. As the alien died beneath him, he scanned around for the last of his foes and saw another crumpled body. Thank the Emperor that sentinel pilot can shoot!

Wiping the blood off his knife, Under-Sergeant Harper ran towards the sentinel. The pilot had lowered his cupola, allowing the bloodied and battered NCO to clamber aboard. In passing, Harper noticed that the last trooper was still alive, but just barely. Grabbing the sentinel’s aid kit and litter, Harper quickly rigged the wounded trooper to the sled and with the pilot’s help they were soon underway.

“Thanks for the help. Didn’t expect to see you in the area though.”

“All patrols ordered to return to base. You’re lucky that came through the vox, otherwise we would have never found your squad in time to help.”

“Any idea whats going on?”

“No, but command didn’t seem happy about it.”

The two lapsed into an uncomfortable silence then, only the wounded trooper’s moans breaking the tension as the sentinel piloted its way through the woods to the fire base.


The pathfinder simply tapped a rune, allowing Kae Kaedr to see using his eyes. An endless column of vehicles was snaking its way down the forest trails, tanks and personal carriers providing security for artillery tracks. Kae Kaedr used his third sight to see what other scouts were looking at and in the distance, the Farseer smiled. The monkeigh had exposed themselves, and tonight he would make them regret ever coming to Persephone.

I'm loving the story so far. Also like your writing style.

Thanks! Glad to know someone likes it. Makes the motivation to write a little easier.

Imperial Firebase, designated “LZ Green”

Under-Sergeant Harper was distinctly unhappy with his current assignment. Earlier today, he had watched silently as the bulk of the 62nd’s battalion had packed up and driven away, the heavy tanks and artillery kicking up great clouds of dust as they trundled down the rough trails. Now he was hunkered down in a small fighting position that even the rawest recruit would consider exposed.

The fire base was set up in a rough triangle. Two sides of the triangle had steeper slopes that were mostly barren as they dropped towards the wood line. The third side had a gentler slope that was littered with miniature stones and significant divets that could be used for cover by a clever enemy. The first two sides were heavily defended with autocannons and missile launchers, their fields of fire expertly interlocked and triple-strand razorwire and mines covering the fighting positions. The third side was more open, with nothing bigger than heavy bolters providing support and the razorwire and mine obstacles were noticeably thinner even though the terrain here was most favorable for an enemy assault. In fact, if he hadn’t heard the Old Man personally approve the dispositions he would have begun rearranging the defenses in his sector. But for now there was nothing he could do except sit and wait for inevitable onslaught.

The NCO’s mood was not improved at all by the constant blabbering of his foxhole companion. The boy was new to the regiment, barely above five feet tall and incredibly skinny. Even the intense training programs on Choson didn’t seem to have toughened him up at all and his hands looked incredible frail and smooth as he nervously gripped his lasgun. Harper let him ramble on about virtually anything, hoping it would help cool the youngster’s nerve to speak about the family and home he had left behind but he seemed to have an endless supply of stories and anecdotes and the NCO’s patience was beginning to wear thin. Making an excuse to leave, Harper slid out the reverse of the fighting position, taking a moment to stretch out knotted limbs on the reverse slope of the crest before crawling slowly over to the fighting position housing the two other members of his fire team. He probably could have walked there, but the Xenos had been sniping at the fire base lately and he didn’t feel like taking a chance on having his head exploded like an overripe melon by one of those damnable shuriken weapons.

He was not surprised to see a similar scene to his own position playing itself out again. Private McMurphy, a veteran of several worlds and deadly skirmishes, was politely listening to the nervous talking of another new replacement. Harper interrupted them long enough to make sure they had enough water and food for the day and to make sure they were doing well. Other than the expected case of nerves, all was well with his little fire team. Well, except for the horrible positions he had been forced into. Making his way slowly back to his own fighting position, the veteran NCO noticed that the sky had become grey and overcast and a noticeable wind began to gust in from the other side of the hill. Picking up the pace, Harper was about five feet from his hole when the heavens opened up, drenching him and everything around him in an instant deluge of thick, cold rain. Great. Fething great.

In orbit over Kishar IV

The monkeigh were becoming distinctly annoying, Prince Al’drael mused to himself as he watched the ghostly blue tendrils of his cruiser’s lances reach out towards an Imperial frigate. He was too far away to see the immediate results of his handiwork, but a quick glance at the ship’s sensors told him the frigate was still alive, but noticeably slowed. Mostly like an engine or two had been destroyed and a subsequent volley would be able to finish off the crippled ship.

For the better part of the last eight hours, he had been trying to obey Kae Kaedr’s orders to bring the monkeigh fleet to battle but the human admiral had been doggedly refusing to commit his main fleet. Perhaps a half dozen frigates now drifted silently through the void, but it had cost Al’drael one of his cruisers when the monkeigh’s heavy weapons batteries had guessed correctly on which ship in the holofield configuration was the real one. Now they continued to dance around the planet below, neither side willing to abandon its position and risking being cut off from the fight below.

Placing his hands on a small crystal on his command pedestal, Al’drael silently communicated his orders to the other commanders. Kae Kaedr had warned him that it was critical to get the monkeigh to commit to an orbital battle. They were massing their armor on the planet below and it was evident from past experience that they would soon launch an orbital bombardment and a ground offensive. It was just like the monkeigh---destroy the planet instead of appreciating it. Al’drael would almost prefer having his soul taken by the Great Devourer rather than allowing the beautiful world below to be destroyed by rash and irresponsible lesser beings.

As his cruiser turned, he watched on his sensors as a sister cruiser swooped in and destroyed the crippled frigate. As the Eldar ship circled to rejoin the main fleet, a pair of human escorts swept in from behind the bulk of a previously destroyed frigate and launched their inert battery weapons at the cruiser, crippling its solar sails and leaving it drifting in base, its lance weapons firing frantically at its harassers in an effort to drive them off, ghostly rays crossing the void like streaks of lightning in a storm tossed sky. Yet even with a crippled cruiser, the monkeigh refused to close their fleet for a kill, seemingly content to allow their escorts to harass the ship like hyenas pouncing on a wounded lion. Pinching his lips angerly, Al’drael began to think of a new plan for forcing the infuriating humans to commit to a fight.

Outside of “LZ Green”

Once again, Nature had smiled on Hae Con. The rains had given way to a thick fog which blanketed the human positions, making it almost impossible for anyone to see more than a few meters at a time. The earlier rainfall had suitably dampened the ground, making it possible for even a monkeigh to pass quietly on and allowing his squads of Scorpions to walk almost normally as they approached the human positions. Concentrating on a rune in his helm, the Exarch quietly relayed the command to halt and he felt, rather than saw, his brethren settle onto the ground around him, taking covered positions behind rocks and inside divets to avoid even chance detection by the monkeigh. Closing his eyes, Hae Con opened up his other senses and then smiled slightly. The exposed human positions were no more than 10 meters in front of him. Even through the fog, he could taste the nervousness of the defenders as the smell of their desperate sweat carried through the night air. It was time.

As if reading his mind, the two far sides of the human encampment were suddenly overwhelmed with fire as scatter lasers, missile launchers, and shuriken catapults
wielded by Guardians and Dire Avengers slammed into the hill side, pulverizing enemy positions where they struck and forcing the Guardsmen to remain huddled to the nape of the earth and unable to move. The return fire was immense, but unguided, autocannon shells and frag missiles lancing through the air towards unseen aggressors in the woods and essentially gridlocking two-thirds of the camp with a deadly morass of shrapnel and bullets through which all movement was impossible.

On cue, Hae Con felt small vibrations through the night air as his squad members launched a wave of plasma grenades towards bunkers whose locations had been pinpointed earlier in the day. Further down the slope, Hae Con sensed the buildup of psychic energy as Kae Kaedr joined the fight, a raging storm of psychic lightning blanketing the bunkers on his right flank, stunning defenders and collapsing the hastily build positions on top of the monkeigh defenders, smothering them under the tons of mud which fell upon them. Activating his chain sword, the Exarch charged behind a second wave of plasma grenades, hearing his squad member’s foot falls behind him and feeling more alive than he had in the previous hundred years since he had left the Path of Khaine.


The opening rounds of the firefight startled Under-Sergeant Harper from a fitful sleep. The boy was already at the lip of the fighting position, blue eyes vainly attempting to pierce the darkness for a target. The NCO was still in the prone, retrieving his rifle when the first plasma grenade volley went off, the brilliant, white-hot flash of light catching the boy full on in the face and searing his flesh instantly. The force of the explosion pushed the boy backwards, slamming him into the back wall of the fighting position. The corpse slowly slumped to the floor, hands and face already burnt beyond recognition. Feth. That was fast.

Ducking out the back end of his fighting position, Harper felt the second plasma grenade blast on his back as the heat from it trailed him outside. Plopping down in the mud, he began firing his lasgun down the slope, careful to shift his position after every second or third shot so that the aliens would not be able to pinpoint his location and greet him with another one of those damnable grenades. Glancing to his left and right, he saw desultory fire coming from a few other guard positions but most had already been silenced. Quickly throwing a frag grenade down the slope to cover his movement, he ran to his right towards where he remembered a heavy bolter being mounted earlier in the day. If he could bring it back into play, maybe he could prevent the entire line from being breached outright.

An ululating war cry from behind him told him he was already too late. Looking over his shoulder, Harper saw a Striking Scorpion with a bloodied sword raised towards the sky, red eyes glinting with predatory delight in the darkness. Shuddering slightly, Harper ploughed ahead through the dark. Now if he reached the heavy bolter, he might be able to survive the night. The Imperial lines were already breached.

In orbit over Kishar IV

Prince Al’drael finally had a reason to smile. After hours of hit and run attacks, the monkeigh was finally moving into his trap. The human cruisers had turned towards him, maneuvering in a tight formation and being careful to keep the planet between them and the Eldar but in a few parasecs they would be sitting between the two groups of Eldar cruisers and caught in a deadly cross fire.

Squinting at his sensors, Al’drael frowned. Instead of proceeding in a standard formation, the monkeigh had turned suddenly, their broadsides pointed towards one group of cruisers with the human frigates protecting the ship’s vulnerable sterns. The human ships began disgorging an inordinate amount of ordnance, clogging the trafficable space with debris that the fragile Eldar cruisers would be unable to cross even though they were currently at the extreme range of the monkeigh’s primitive weapons. As the be puzzled Prince watched the monkeigh plan unfolded, the cold tendrils of fear crept up his spine as a lone human ship broke formation and descended to low orbit, fiery red streaks cutting through the atmosphere as it began launching at the planet below.

Great stuff again... really drawn me in

Can't wait to see what happens.

Action packed, keep it coming.

Hurah! Someone else likes it

Imperial Firebase “LZ Green”

Kae Kaedr scrambled up the muddy slope; dexterous foot falls preventing him from tripping over the myriad of body parts that littered the gentle incline. The battle was won, he could feel it. Just as he had foreseen, the weak part of the monkeigh positions had burst apart like an overripe melon and the terror of the human defenders at being so quickly overwhelmed was a palpable sensation in the dark, feeding his desire to complete their destruction as penance for daring to intrude on the unspoiled beauty of Persephone. Ahead of him, the dark green Scorpions headed towards the center of the monkeigh position, where the humans always put their command facilities, intent on destroying them to further disrupt the human positions and then blossoming out to destroy the besieged defenders piecemeal. Seeing a resisting human position still firing off to his right, Kae Kaedr paused and cast out his spirit, his ethereal self flying effortlessly over the battlefield until he found himself looking down at a prone guardsman, the human frantically firing into the darkness below in a vain attempt to stem the Eldar advance. Reaching out, the Farseer’s pale, incorporeal hands reached into the guardsman’s mind. The frantic, worried thoughts of the human flooded the Eldar’s mind, but the monkeigh were weak and this one flopped on the ground like a fish out of water, his emotions becoming increasingly panicked and erratic as Kae Kaedr’s ghost form flooded him with psychic energy and the humans brains melted under his touch. Only a thin trickle of blood out of the human’s ears marked what had happened to him. With a jolt, Kae Kaedr returned to his corporeal body and continued his ascent into the monkeigh base.

As he reached the crest, a new sound entered the battlefield. Ahead of him, the shadowy outlines of the human’s secondary bunkers erupted with miniature explosions, each one of the yellow-orange flares marking a previously unknown fighting position. The distinctive whine of bolt shells crossed the open ground and the echo of secondary explosions followed quickly behind, the massive shells sweeping the armored scorpions off their feet, rending limbs from their bodies, tearing massive holes into their torsos and filling the night with a fine mist composed of blood and pulverized bone. Within seconds, the first wave of aspects lay dead on the ground and the second wave was forced back on the defensive, hastily seeking cover. Robed defenders swept into the open, advancing steadily towards the Eldar under a relentless torrent of bolter rounds and frag grenades. A hail of shuriken fire met them, but did not visibly slow them down, tears in the dark robes revealing the glint of power armor underneath.

Snarling slightly, Kae Kaedr pointed his rune bedecked sword at the new group of defenders, engraved runes flaring with an unworldly blue-green light as he channeled his psychic powers into summoning a storm of eldritch lightning, willing the flaring blue-purple streaks to strike down this new foe. Kae Kaedr frowned suddenly, pausing for a second to take cover behind a good sized chunk of debris as he gathered his mental reserves. He wanted a storm, he needed a storm…but nothing was materializing. He could sense a new presence out there, blocking his efforts to channel his psychic might and he raged against the wall in the Empyrean, reaching out to smash it down so he could finish off his foe. He could almost see the smile on the monkeigh’s face as words crept unbidden into his mind: Not this time, Xenos!

Looking up, he saw a robed figure striding towards him. Runes flared in the darkness as the human drew his sword, the blade glowing with an otherworldly red-orange light as he closed purposefully on Kae Kaedr’s position. The Farseer’s runes answered the challenge, burning with an Eldritch light as he stood up and hurled himself at the offending monkeigh.

Under-Sergeant Harper heaved another grenade into the darkness, grinning with a feral satisfaction as more moans drifted up the slope following the deep krump of the explosion. Next to him, two guardsmen he had pulled out of the muck worked feverishly to keep the heavy bolter in action, the red tracer rounds showing their sweeps up and down the slope as they worked to keep the Eldar at bay. On the other side, several more guardsmen fired steadily down the slope, lasguns and grenades taking a steady toll of the Eldar aggressors who tried to take the final heights of the Imperial position. For the first time since the fighting began, Harper felt a glimmer of hope. The fierce, heavily armored Aspects had swept past him long ago, headed into the depths of the camp to continue their butchery and leaving the human positions on the flanks of the breakthrough to other warriors. While still fierce opponents, these Eldar wore only a thin ceramite coating similar to Harper’s flak armor and were, surprisingly, outranged by the Guardsmen as they tried to storm the last few bunkers with a combination of swords, pistols and grenades.

A gout of flame nearby announced a renewed alien assault. The napalm caught two of the defenders in its blast, the unfortunate victims flopping in a vain attempt to put out the flames as they were remorselessly burnt alive. Without pause, the aliens leapt into the makeshift position, pistols firing a hail of deadly shurikens that shredded one of the heavy bolter crew and temporarily knocking it out of action. Harper flung himself into the nearest one, tackling the lithe form and hearing the satisfying crunch of bone as he drove him into the ground. A boot knife appeared in his hand and a small red slash materialized on the alien’s throat, blood welling up quickly as the figure wriggled under him in a vain attempt to escape. Harper grabbed the alien’s sword, surprised by how light it was, and gave a double handed swing, the wraithbone sword passing almost effortlessly through an unfortunate Guardian and separating the better part of his torso from his lower body and spraying blood onto the aliens packing up the slope behind him.

He felt a sword swinging behind him and turned to parry, the two alien swords screeching as they ground into each other. The alien jumped back slightly, swinging lower this time, and then coming back high with a sharp riposte, leaving Harper backpedaling frantically while trying to fend off his faster opponent. A shotgun blast echoed from behind him and the alien flew backwards violently, chest cavity exposed by two gaping holes. Harper glanced over his shoulder and saw Private McMurphy giving him a toothy grin: “You’re welcome!”

Grunting his thanks, Harper drove forward, the wraithbone sword singing as it found the neck of an Eldar trying to scramble over the lip of the fighting position, the head rolling several feet before bouncing to a stop, the alien’s eternal eyes showing a profound look of shock in their final moments. Behind him, Harper heard the heavy bolter rattle back to life, red tracers once more stitching into the hill side, raining death upon the advancing aliens. Three more of the aliens fell trying to claim the crest, Harper’s new sword accounting for two of them and McMurphy’s shotgun another. Spirits shattered, the aliens scrambled into the forests to regroup, lasgun fire chasing them into the depths of the night.

“They ain’t never gonna take this position Sarge!” yelled a jubilant McMurphy.

Harper was about to answer when something massive landed outside in the forest, the tremors knocking him flat on his ass and taking his breath away.


Hae Con managed to keep his footing, if just barely. Turning behind him, he saw a newly formed crater behind him with some kind of monkeigh vessel in it. As he watched, the ramps dropped down and a massive iron clad figure stepped out, a steady electrical hum emanating from it as it swept an assault cannon over the Eldar trying to advance up the slope, killing them by the score. A brave soul trying to sneak up behind it to clamp on a haywire grenade died in a burst of napalm, the fires from the heavy flamer illuminating the remnants of another Eldar squad which were quickly caught in the metal monstrosity’s cross hairs and summarily dispatched.

More tremors emanated from the deep woods and Hae Con turned his gaze skyward and saw Persephone’s vibrant night sky lit up by streaks of fire, all of them monkeigh vessels hurtling towards the ground at fantastic speeds. Bolter rounds and napalm bursts from the treeline marked the positions newly arrived monkeigh units and already Hae Con could sense the guardians breaking from the new onslaught. The Dire Avengers fought desperately, buying time for the forward elements to break off the attack and retreat. Hae Con knew it was hopeless. The heavier aspects had been left behind covering the trails the monkeigh vehicles were expected to attack along, leaving his force without any substantial anti-armor equipment which had been an acceptable risk with nothing other than human infantry on the hill. But the situation had changed and it was time to leave.

Robed figures strode out of the center of the compound, bolters chattering a merciless litany of death as they closed on the surviving Scorpions. Hae Con watched as one of his brothers launched himself at one of the robed figures who carried a gleaming power sword, only to see him cut down with despicable ease, neither the fury of his assault nor the strength of his armor making an impression on the implacable warrior. Yes, it was time to leave before the humans finished encircling them completely. Casting out his mental commands, the Scorpions began picking their way down the slope, headed for the darkness in the wild where they could escape from the monkeigh and renew the fight later. Eyes swiveling in the dark, looking for Kae Kaedr to shield him, Hae Con found him just as another disaster struck on this star cursed night.

Wow, great stuff.

SM but what Chapter? Dark Angles?

Short update tonight. More to follow soon, work permitting. Hope y'all like it.

Imperial Firebase “LZ Green”

Kae Kaedr’s witchblade sung as he swung it towards the armored monkeigh. The man parried and sparks flew of the blades, the ghostly green light of the Eldar’s runes colliding fiercely with the red-orange hue of the humans, the two sets of runes twisting together and entwining as the two foes took each other’s measure. Kae Kaedr stepped back, twisting his wrist deftly and letting the witchblade shoot towards the man’s knee while arcs of lightning flashed from his out stretched hand. The psychic energy cascaded off the monkeigh, flowing around him without any visible effect, the massive energy strikes causing explosions behind him as they hit both human and elder alike. The monkeigh’s sword again parried his strike, this time answering with quick ripostes aimed at the Farseer’s torso.

Kae Kaedr held his ground, the two psykers trading a flurry of psychically enhanced blows with one another. Combat stopped around them as human and alien alike were drawn into watching the two champions. An almost electrical charge filled the air as the psychic energy unleashed in the duel filled the area, neither psyker giving ground as their movements became progressively faster, their movements becoming a mere blur to those watching, with streaks of green and red-orange vaguely marking each of their positions in the ensuing fight.

Casting his mind outwards, Kae Kaedr beheld a brief glance of the future. Smiling unseen beneath his wraithbone helm, the Farseer counted the sword strikes just as he had seen them play out, taking care to parry the monkeigh’s furious onslaught. One to the lower body, one to the right knee, a step back, a lunge, and then the monkeigh dipped low, exposing his back and shoulder…

Without hesitation, Kae Kaedr swung, his witchblade clamoring hungrily for blood as it drove into the monkeigh’s shoulder in a weak point between the main armor and the pauldron shielding. Blood flowed freely and the Farseer knew his opponent would be crippled, but in an instant the intense, unknowable joy turned into an equally impressive measure of despair, pain spiking through Kae Kaedr’s body as the monkeigh’s sword passed through his armor, runes of warding shattered by the destructive ones engraved in the human’s. The pain intensified, every nerve in his body screaming in protest as his body writhed in anguish. His sword dropped from his hand and Kae Kaedr gasped as beneath his gaze, his flesh shriveled and dried out. He fell to his knees, his strength deserting him at an astonishing rate under the furious assault of psychic energy passing directly into his body from the monkeigh’s sword. Kae Kaedr’s eyes swung upwards, the centuries of his life now reflected in his previously immortal frame and he wept bitterly at the monkeigh’s grim smile. Standing, the human towered over the kneeling alien as he spoke three simple words: “Victory demands sacrifice.”

The human’s blade flashed in the Farseer’s vision and then he felt nothing but bliss and serenity, eternal warmth suffusing his soul in the comfort of his soul stone. In the deep recesses of his being, he took comfort in the fact that he did not witness his head bounce unceremoniously across the mud of Persephone, becoming covered in slick trails of blood and mud before stopping, once vibrant eyes staring impotently at Hae Con.

Forest trail, designated “Route Cobra”

Captain Chekov felt happily alive as the forest zipped past him in an alarming blur, the trees merging with the darkness as his Leman Russ sped through the night. Ahead of him, the Chimera’s belonging to the squadron’s scout platoon pulled over to the side, disgorging their infantry to clear the ridge ahead. Anticipating his command, his driver decelerated and nudged the vehicle into a sheltered position from which the gunner would be able to cover the scout’s advance. Chekov’s mission was simple tonight: drive forward and engage the Eldar. He did not know anything about the fight going on at Firebase Green, simply content to be on the offensive again after being cramped into conspicuously small mud pits for the last several weeks while waiting for something, anything really, to end the boredom.

His wingman pulled into a similar position and Chekov watch dispassionately as several lasguns fired in the distance, one ear listening in to the vox should the scouts find something they couldn’t handle. The firefight was quickly over, the Eldar giving ground rather than risk being caught and the Chimeras swept over the ridgeline, the scouts piling back in as the vehicles swept towards the next obstacle that would require dismounted clearance. Motioning his wing man forward, Chekov was forced to duck into the hatch as a furious explosion rent the air, the Leman Russ exploding in a blazing fireball of twisted metal, diesel fuel and unspent ammunition.

“Where the feth did that come from?”

Good stuff as usual.

And remember, you don't really have to work to pay the bills, you could stay at home and write more instead

Still keeping me in the story. Great stuff.

Imperial Firebase “LZ Green”

Hae Con slipped seamlessly through the darkness, the soft ground masking his foot falls as he hurried away from the carnage. He reached out with his mind, ordering his brethren to disperse from the monkeigh’s assault and rally later. With vivid clarity, he recalled a serene glad on the far side of the forest, sending the image of a crystal clear waterfall and a large reflective pool surrounded by ancients trees whose green leaves glistened in the remembered twilight. Acknowledgements flooded into his mind as the rest of the Eldar dispersed, relying on their skills and agility to evade the clumsy humans in ones or twos until they could regroup. An intense sadness filled the Exarch’s heart as too many of his kin failed to respond.

With a single bound, Hae Con grabbed hold of a thick branch about ten feet of the ground and swung into the foliage. Balancing on his tip toes, Hae Con sped through the trees, moving above the levels that any of the monkeigh would bother to search. A small patrol passed beneath him, and he felt his anger mounted. It would be easy to fall on them from above and rend the monkeigh infantry limb from limb, tearing their bodies apart and letting their blood fertilize the soil as payment for their trespass on this unspoiled world. Shaking off his anger, the Exarch’s predatory gaze followed the patrol into the distance before he continued on his way, bursts of gunfire in the distance marking the locations where some of his kin were less patient and the blood of both Eldar and human fed Persephone’s future.

Under-Sergeant Harper had never felt so tired in his life. He took a moment to slouch against the edge of the foxhole, fighting off a mind numbing fatigue long enough to scan the area around him. On both sides, Guardsmen were frantically working to restore their fighting positions after the miraculous intervention which had saved them from further onslaughts. Harper had never seen a Space Marine before and he still had not seen one up close but for the rest of his life he knew he would bear witness to their fighting prowess. The time of their landing remained a blur. The force of the drop pods impacting the planet’s surface had leveled both human and alien and neither had recovered their balance before the ramp’s lowered with a deadly fusillade of bolt shells and napalm gouts. The xenos had fallen back in disarray, dozens of them killed in the initial seconds of the Marine assault. The Marines had pressed forward mercilessly and even now muzzle flashes in the tree line marked where the deadly killers were still pressing forward, offering the aliens no quarter and expecting none. Not that Harper expected to live long to tell the tale of this night if he didn’t get back to work.

Hauling himself out of the foxhole with a weary sigh, he turned to his flank and began yelling nearby Guardsmen to work faster. Crew served weapons had to be replaced, positions rebuilt and fortified, ammunition replenished, guard shifts established, and, Emperor willing, some food and sleep to be had. It was a tall order and one normally left to a senior NCO. But Harper had yet to see one left alive after the night’s slaughter and so he and McMurphy had taken charge by default, resorting to psychically dragging the odd trooper or two who was still dazed from the night’s combat from their foxholes and putting them to work on some task or another to keep them occupied. Even now, Harper could see McMurphy chewing out another private like he was a seasoned NCO already and Harper smiled slightly, glad that the Private had survived the night as well.

Turning around to give another section some well deserved attention, Harper’s jaw clamped shut as a giant strode towards him. The Astartes moved with surprising grace and dexterity, his huge armored frame glittering in the moonlight. The armor itself was a dark blue, almost purple hue, with green trimmings. The Imperial aquilla was emblazoned on the chest plate and the shoulder plates resembled some kind of mythic, scaled beast whose features were so realistically detailed that Harper could almost feel them feasting on the carnage the Marine’s had wrought, as if they were worthy scions of their mythological name sakes. Guardsmen dropped to their knees as the giant passed, the undersized Colonel Smiles passing unnoticed next to the Astartes as he struggled to keep up in his wake.

The giant stopped in front of Harper and the Under-Sergeant fell to one knee, his eyes fixed pointedly on the muddy ground. The Astartes spoke, his voice like thunder as it echoed through the trees, deep and resounding with centuries of command evident in it: “Rise, Sergeant. I hear you are the one responsible for keeping this flank secure tonight.”

Harper struggled to his feet, still unable to meet the Marine’s gaze and struggling to keep his voice from cracking: “I suppose so, my Lord. To be honest, I was just struggling to stay alive.”

“Sometimes that is all it takes, Sergeant. How old are you?”

“Twenty-one, my Lord.”

“That is a shame, Sergeant. A few years younger and you would have made an excellent recruit. You have all the qualities a Space Marine requires,” with that, the Astartes strode off to continue his inspection of the battlefield leaving the awestruck Harper behind him. They might have been only words, but it was the best commendation he had ever received.

Colonel Smiles appeared immediately behind him, an odd grin on the commander’s face. Harper could see the deep sadness in the man’s eyes at the night’s losses as he snapped off a quick salute, but he could also sense the sheer exhilaration at still being alive the Colonel shared with his men. Apparently the Old Man hadn’t expected this intervention either. Colonel Smile’s returned the salute smartly and then placed an arm on his shoulder: “Good job Lieutenant! I expect to see you tomorrow morning at the Officer’s Mess to discuss your new responsibilities and where you will be placed.”

“Sir…I’m just an Under-Sergeant.”

“Oh yeah? Well, these say you’re a Lieutenant,” Colonel Smiles said as he pressed a pair of diamond shaped pips into Harper’s hand. “Put them on and keep up the good work, Lieutenant. You have great potential!”

And just as quickly the Colonel strode off, leaving a bewildered Harper behind him. Shaking out of his daze, Harper turned his attention to the bedazzled troopers around him: “What are you gawking at? Get back to work before the fething Eldar decide to come back and feed you your own tiny brains and peckers for dinner!”

Haha!

Each section is better than the last. I can't wait for the next installment.

Orbit of Kishar IV

Runes flashed on the command console, colors deepening from yellow to dark red as different parts of the ship reported damage. The crews warlocks were busy trying to sing the wraithbone hull intact, struggling to keep the proud ship in the fight as Prince Al’drael slammed his fist against the console in frustration. He had planned to keep the monkeigh at a distance, using his superior speed and range to prevent them from closing inside the holofields protective range. Instead, the humans had used Kishar IV’s gravity well to gain additional speed and slingshot into the near group of Eldar cruisers, indiscriminately firing broadsides of the inert projectile weapons the monkeigh favored that simply sailed through the holofields to find the real ships beyond. The Eldar cruisers had taken heavy losses and only the arrival of Prince Al’drael’s group had kept them in the fight this long. Bodies and debris floated aimlessly through space, drifting along like flotsam on a river.

The cruiser shuddered on the impact of another monkeigh volley finding its mark and runes flashed with alarming frequency in response. The great ship listed under the impact, turning hard to port as its starboard engines were reduced to millions of little scraps under the impact. Al’drael’s lithe fingers flew over the console, subtle adjustments and decisive commands managing the right the ship. The situation was quickly becoming intolerable. Al’drael had lost all contact with the planet below and attempts to force a small landing had been thwarted. Even though the Eldar fighters were sleeker and more agile than their human counterparts, the monkeigh were far more numerous and quantity had proven itself to be a form of quality this day. Al’drael had lost 30 of his precious fighters and even though it had cost the humans over 200 of their own, they had kept the planet isolated.

Tapping the rune that allowed him to commune with his fellow captains, Al’drael ordered the fleet to turn hard to starboard, catching the rays of Persephone’s sun at the most advantageous angle for harnessing their energy for outdistancing the monkeigh fleet and making for a small asteroid clump near the planet’s double moons. He would need time to repair damage and formulate a new strategy for reaching the planet’s surface. He still had a good number of Kae Kaedr’s landing craft on board and with a warlock on each to augment its psychic shielding; he should be able to slip them discretely to the planet’s surface. But for now, the Eldar forces fighting on Persephone would be on their own.

Forest trail, designated “Route Cobra”

“Tank!”
“Identified!”
“Fire!”
“On the way!”

The Leman Russ lurched slightly as Captain Chekov’s gunner squeezed the triggers, the battle cannon shell arching through the air. Chekov’s eyes remained glued to his target and he swore fluidly as the alien skimmer dipped beneath the tree line, the battle cannon shell passing overhead.

“Over! Reengage!”

The breech slammed open, ammonia fumes from the spent shell filling the chamber as Chekov’s loader pressed the knee switch for the ammo well, the door flying open on its hydraulic hinges. The loader’s hand swiped the clip holding the next shell in place and the projectile dumped out of its holding cell into the waiting hands. The loader’s torso rotated a half turn, the shell passing seamlessly into the breech and the back half rising up to close behind it. A quick swipe to ensure everything was level and then the loader swung the arming handle upwards, jerking his body out of the path of the recoil at the same time.

“Up!”
“Identified!”
“Fire!”
"On the way!"

This time Chekov caught the eldar tank on its way up, the alien weapons launching streams of dark energy and high velocity missiles towards his wingman. The battle cannon shell impacted directly underneath the alien’s cockpit, the delicate crystalline matrix shattering under the explosion and rending a massive hole in the skimmer’s armor. The skimmer fell stiffly to the earth, all grace gone from its movement, and a blossoming fireball marked its final resting spot.

“Scan for new targets!”

But as quickly as the aliens had emerged, they were gone. A quick vox check later, and Captain Chekov’s face went pale. Out of the ten tanks his company had begun the patrol with, only three answered over the vox. His scouts continued to report a running engagement with black and red armored alien aspects but even they seemed to be falling back towards a new position in a very organized manner. Even though it appeared he had accomplished the mission and reopened the route to LZ Green, he couldn’t shake off the tragic sense of depression that resulted from smocking Imperial wrecks and silent voxes with only two Eldar tanks to show for the effort. An uneasy feeling crept over the Captain. The Eldar had folded here far too easily…

Keep the story coming.