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Malquia's heart slammed back and forth in her rib cage, her blood was a torrent raging through her body. Her skin was alive and burning with every nerve ending throbbing with the passion and heat of the moment. She could feel for the first time, her senses more focused than ever before.
Now truly she felt alive.
Yet she felt also a deep, painful hatred for this state, a feeling of sadness turned rage. And she wanted to lash out, to destroy - something, anything, anyone.
Like the blow of a hammer she felt her guide and mentor and friend Tal'dae'qu'Easo'lon place a gentle hand on her shoulder and from within came a cool calmness that spread evaporating both the heat and the passion.
For just a heartbeat more she longed again to feel that deeply again, to draw on the bottomless well of her races emotions but then it was gone.
Her mentor gazed at her calmly, his kind eyes had seen stars burn and the destruction of all he held dear and yet he could still be so gentle.
"Your fist time in the presence of the Avatar of Mensha Kain?", his voice calming her nerves and filling her with the sureties that she needed.
She bowed her head in acknowledgement.
"The thunder in your blood can be addictive can it?"
It was not a question.
Again Malquia bowed her head but this time raised it high. She could fight this call for blood that sang in her veins because she had too - she was Farseer of the Alen'sar.
"You have led the Host before have you not."
Again it was not a question.
"You have brought success have you not."
She tilted her head in question.
"Because this time you are to seek the opposite - we need the Monk-eigh to believe that we have something that we want on this world. They must come here in force and with the warriors in numbers that we as a people can no longer match."
Malquia's head remained tilted, she knew what was required but as to the why that had been denied her, until now.
"We have excluded you from the spirit guides in this case because we do not wish you to be influenced. The monk-eigh are an unsubtle beast that needs little provocation to resort to force. We now have deduced from the runes that they will be required to be on this planet in sufficient strength to deflect the course of an Enemy Fleet. This foulness has slipped from the crone worlds and has by passed the outer guards that the Monk-eigh have in place there. On board of the lead Battle Barge is an emissary of the Great Enemy. They will be passing here on route to another location. If the Monk-eigh are here preparing for an attack by us then they will be ready to deal with the emissary. Your role today is to convince them that we are planning a major offensive against this world."
Malquia saw how the strands of fate had landed her here now, she was among the younger of the seers on Craftworld Alansar but counted as one it's finest war leaders.
Her mind brought the world map up and she again studied the dirt bowl that would be the trap for the Emissary. It was of no genuine interest to the Eldar. It was a true monk-eigh world, lacking both harmony and beauty. There were no serious orbital defences and these could be removed silently from afar. There were several continents, all polluted and inhospitable outside of the cancerous growths that the beasts called cities. These were of a typical design, huge spikes into the sky each housing a billion or more beasts. They were connected by tubes of rail connection that were raided by outcasts and renegades. Her eyebrows raised in questionable displeasure, even on this world where they have made it there own they still create something to fight.
They ignore the chance for harmony and exile and allow themselves to deteriorate to less than beasts.
Pathetic.
There was a mountain range than ran along the largest continent that had several cities spearing it. These were more isolated than the others, connected by underground rail tracks that left the range hollow and subsidence was common. They relied heavilly on flight power to communicate. A well placed strike on one the main city connection ports would destroy a substantial range of the underground net work and her finger traced in the air over a polluted river way. She stopped in mid air, over a lake the size of a falcon port. This was used as a dump site for the waste that could not be recycled.
If the pipe work were destroyed here then the waste would flow back into the purified water systems. Once this inital strike was done then they would lure the searching monk-eigh into several ambushes allowing them to see whom they fought and then back off. This would allow them the time to bring in reinforcements. By which time the Emissary and his fleet would be in the system and the Eldar would be able to let the monk-eigh deal with them.
Firstly then she would need an obvious bridge head, her minds eyes located a plateau that would be perfect.
"You are ready?"
"Prepare the Host, we are striking."
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"Brigadier General Chatterton reporting, I say is this bally thing on"
"Yeth thirr.Jutht preth the thilver button and intone the thpirit to activate."
"What, just like this - testing testing."
"The thprit is recording thir"
"Odd though there would be more to it than that. Anyhoot - Brigadier General Chatteron IVth Massachusist Guard, Third support Division. Been sent to, By the Golden throne what is the name of this spit of planet we are on?"
"Marlell"
"-"
"Thir"
"Good, um yes, well, Marlell. Been a bunch of reports that there has been sight of, sight of, sight of what damn it?"
"Pirateth thir"
"Yes, that was it wasn't it. Nay more than that a splat of a place and they are having illusions of grandeur. Think that some damn foul xenos pirate type chappies want to take over their world. Blasted stupid if you ask me, any hoot the job of the Glorious iVth is as always to be first in last out."
"thir?"
"What? oh yes. Mission briefing then. From recent vid pics and what like the clever boffins over in adpetus inteligentus have deduced that following recent forays etc that the prime land siting for these damn xenos is a plateau on the Alpha continent - full coordinates etc and the rest of the techno babble, no offence meant Magus, will be viewable on mission briefing as of 04:45 hrs STT. .."
"thir, ThTT thir"
"Yes, oh right, STT- standard terran time. "
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