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The grey storm clouds rolled in over the war torn hive that was attempting recovery from the destruction brought by both Ork and Astartes. Countless millions of dead civilians and soldiers lay dead all across the world and the general feeling all around was one of doom and gloom. Even if the Orks where gone and the imperium had prevailed. But there where those who asked for what gains beside the dubious honour of being yet another world to be bombed back to stone ages had they gained from staying loyal?
There where powers that could liberate one from the daily toll, and secure a position of strength for those willing to toss of the shackles of oppression and rise up in arms.
But such individuals was yet few and far between... or so most people believed. Others swore to not lift a finger to help the guard forces left behind to guard the ravished world from further predations by the enemies of man.

They came first as mere shadows that crept into the ruined under hive and monitored the movement of both guardsmen and those civilians still dwelling in those dark depths.
It became clear to the observers that the might of the servants of the emperor was feeble at best.

A cadre of fifty warriors stood in silence as their leader removed his helmet that bore the tell tale mark of the hunters, their leader was a veteran of the long war who had for countless centuries brought ruin and death to the savages that infested this galaxy he called home.
His scarred face was a mess of old and recent marks of battle. In his hands he gripped the weapon that had served him for so long, letting out a almost mournful sound he sent a message to his lady.

“Farseer, we have finished our reckon of the sites pointed out to us by the treads of fate. It seems the humans have begun to squabble amongst themselves.” he said and smiled a crooked grin to his second in command,
the reply was as expected. “Well done warrior, the war host is coming but it will take time to make the finale preparations for our task at hand.” the harsh voice of the few beings that could fill his hearth with fear. And without any further communication between the two the link was cut and left the fifty strong reckon party awaiting their kin.

Meanwhile this was taking place other events was taking place, the population tired by war and driven on by anger. Partially provided by agitators that urged the crowd onwards they begun slip into anarchy.
Guardsmen where pelted with stone and broke bottles. But soon these simply objects where replaced by a hail of auto gun fire and the hiss of las weapons as the rabble rouser shifted from protesting to forming a slowly but steadily movement that would spur them onwards to the path of damnation and heresy.

As weeks passed I became clear to the imperial guard commanders that they had a full scale rebellion on their hands. One commander remarked about how quickly the population had gone from outright happy to have them here, to be baying for their blood. And taking up arms against the forces of the guard.
While the fires of rebellion begun to take hold something was awoken in the depth.

A great bone white creation marked by the passing of the ages begun to simmer with energy, swirling patterns of blue and turquoise merged and former new yet more intricate patterns. With a low almost humming sound the portal took its finale shape.


A lone figure appeared and walked calmly out into the great chamber, with eyes that had seen the passing of millenniums the farseerer gestured to her kin to come forth.
Out came those who had been chosen to be her companions and defenders while she undertook her mission here on this wrenched world filled with the barbaric race known as humans.

She stood surrounded by her closest companions. She felt their gaze upon her as she considered the choice of paths this quest could take, oh how she hated to deal with the humans. They seemed to posses the ability to breed rebellion and strife by simply being alive, or being more than two at a time in any sort of environment.
Grasping the spear and pulling her blood red cloak around herself she spoke.
“This world is doomed, it will die in a cataclysm of fire and brimstone. We will be the spark that set the fire free. They will all die here on this forsaken rock.”

One of her warlocks stood some distance away from the others, his mind lost in a web of options and repercussions to said options. It seemed to him that the very fabric of fate where tangled like the wild and unkempt hair of a beast of sorts.
He seeked the lone tread he needed to find, but as ever finding the right tread was hard. But he pressed on, sweat pooling down his old and worn face. Just as he was about to abandon the search he found, hidden amongst countless lesser treads he managed to hold on to it. Speaking with a weary tone in his voice announced his success. His comrades gathered round and lent him a hand as he regained his footing.

“I have seen the promises of the future and its contents fills me with woe. It seems darkness is gathering like a brooding storm. If the dark prevails I fear all will be lost.”

Upon hearing this words his fellow warlocks merely stood silent, one of them reached out to their lady and bid her to join them. She did not speak a word, only intent on hearing the message.

“ We came to set this world ablaze and sacrifice countless lives to stave of the threat of the green skins to our craft world. But as I delved in the realm of fate I became clear of a new and far greater menace. The living nightmare is coming for this world and all who stands upon it. We can not let them fall my kin.” he concluded.

The farseerer nodded upon hearing these grave words, and with a nod of her head new plans where put into motion. The warriors of a fallen god destined to rule the stars and layed low by treachery would not stand alone.

As Dire avengers, the citizen soldiers of the guardians and the rangers marched to war beside towering wraith lords and sleek but deadly falcons the men who struggled to defend this world had gained a new ally. But even with these fresh souls victory against the nightmare that the Tyrannids represented was guaranteed.

“To war my kin, to war and ruin under a blood red sky.” the farseerer said as she donned her ghost helmet and gripped her singing spear.

Wow this could turn out to be an epic struggle with so many factions coming into play. Nice hope to read more soon.

This is an excellent intro. Very nicely written.

This is pretty amazing!!!

It's a nice read, but you need a new Shift-key Trondheim. This one seem to be broken.

Aside from that it's nicely paced and I like the story, I would maybe however have liked more details around the Imperial Commander who pondered how the populace had gone from content to rebellious, there you have an excellent opportunity for drama (which I'm a slave to).

Of course it's my viewpoint, and you are free to disregard as you see fit Trondheim.

Cool stuff!

Thank you all for the feedback. And no, my shift key works very well. Its the transition from the text program I use to Dakka that makes it such.

Running like a whipped dog sergeant Erik barely managed to get across the war torn street, breathing heavily he cursed his rotten luck and dared to peek out of cover. Some fifty meters downwind a huge mob of citizens where unleashing a storm of auto guns and lasguns their way.
What they made up for in good aim they made sure to compensate for with sheer volume of fire he thought as a round slammed into the pillar right next to his head.

“For fraks sake! Someone suppress those arses” cursed over the voxnet and to his dismay got noting but static. He was all that remained of his platoon, the rest of the 227th Anaheim light foot regiment was slowly falling apart under the onslaught from both Orks and rebels. They where not trained not equipped for these kinda prolonged and bloody urban conflicts. They where masters of ambushes and reconnaissance mission in the wild or in rural areas.
They had been deployed here as a temporary occupation force until other more suitable solutions could be brought to bear upon the world. It had not taken long however for things to start going sour for them.
Being a somewhat poorly equipped and undermanned regiment fresh out of the Sabbath world crusades they expected this deployment to be a refit and reinforcing one. Hence the general mood was rather bright. But this all changed when the first bomb detonated and took the life of their senior commander and several officers. Almost over night the locals went from thankful to hostile, the base compound was subjected to riots and attempts at storming it.
Taking stock of what he had left of munitions he rammed a fresh magazine into his lasgun and took aim down street. If he where to get out of this mess he needed to thin them out a bit.
Firing with the skills honed of a lifetime spent at war he begun to drop those foul rebels. But he soon realized it was like pissing into the wind, rather useless and a waste of shots. As he begun to look for an alternative way of escape he muttered a silent prayer to the Emperor. Being a pious man he took pride in his devotion and worship of the father of mankind. Knowing he only prayed for deliverance he did not expect a immediate answer but as events around him unfolded he indeed got his divine intervention sooner than expected.
Like a trio of shadows the figures moved amongst the rubble, they long cloaks concealing them form sight. Each of them was armed with a long slender rifle that itself was a work of art and technological grandeur. The leader apparent raised a hand and the other two stopped as turned into stone.
Activating the com link he spoke with a soft voice. “ We have reached our destination, it seems the rabble are content with killing their own. “
listening to the reply and with a single word he closed the link, their task clear at hand and their weapons eager for a fight they took aim as one.
“Make them fear the shadows my kin” he said and sent the first shot racing towards its target.
It hit like a meteor striking a planet, slamming into the skull of a rebel and disintegrating it in a shower of gore and bone, the now dead rebel dropped to the ground with a thud and left his comrades dazed for a moment before panic begun to rear its head as a steady stream of shots claimed yet more life’s.
The lone guardsman who had taken shelter heard the unmistakeable ring of sniper rifles as the fire that was coming his way begun to ease up. His spirit rose when he saw the dead that littered the ground and the mob beginning to disperse. Trying his vox link again he felt rather pleased about it all. Even if his squad lay dead and the whole bloody war was going south faster than you could say Ork.
“Command come in! Any friendly snipers operating near the old trade district?” he asked and awaited a reply.
There where a short moment when all he got was static but then a voice broke trough it all.
“Negative no friendly snipers operating anywhere in this city sergeant.”

“Feth it command! I just saw a mob get waxed by one or more snipers! And you tell me no friendly snipers are operating? Who you suggest are then?” the rather weary and now somewhat paranoid sergeant said and begun to quicken his pace as he ran for friendly lines with his breath ragged and the taste of blood pounding at the back of his mouth
“Okay sergeant, thanks for the heads up and stay safe” the vox operator said and cut the link with a flick of the switch. The man let out a deep breath and lit himself another Ilho stick and fixed his weary gaze upon some distant point in the broken skyline of the city.
Meanwhile the tree spectres who had delivered volley upon volley of precise and deadly shots looked down upon the now eerily quiet streets, only faint sounds of gunfire and the odd guttural war cry from one of the green skinned brutes could be heard. It seemed the last survivors of the ork invasion was putting up a stiff fight but even their unending lust for war could not hope to match the forces arrayed against them. It would only be a mater of time before the humans killed the last one.
But there was something far deadlier that had their attention than mere mop up operations conducted by the humans. The devourer was already present on this world, not a full invasion but something just as deadly if not as numerous. A lone hunter stalked these ruins, it was a foe even they knew better than to disregard as a simple mindless beast. To do such a thing was to invite certain death lather on.

“Farseer we have done as instructed, the rebellious ones are no more.” the leader said and looked down upon the enemy dead with a rather unpleasant taste in his mouth, god how those barbarians reeked of filth. Had they never heard of personal hygiene?

Meanwhile sergeant Erik of the Anaheim 227th had reached the place he had been making his way to, greeted by fellow troopers and in relative security behind the fortifications of the compound he allowed himself to fall into a deep and dreamless sleep after delivering the dog tags of his fallen comrades in arms. And giving a lengthy report on his encounter with the unidentified sniper or snipers who has aided him in his quest for friendly lines.
While both Eldar and man prepared for what was to come when the sun yet rose something else stirred from its resting place, it reared to its full height and cast a baleful glance down upon the world below. Feet driven by immensely strong muscles and long scything talons helped it navigate the heights and a pair of keen eyes observed anything that was of interest. Growling like a beast of the legends of old it fixed its gaze upon the collections of camp fires that blazed in the ruins of a old imperial church. Tonight was the night of the hunter, the stalker that hunted man and ork alike. Tonight was the time of the lictor.

Treads of Fate. Holy tanks of the Emperor!

Woo! Lictors!

Alright, so we have... Eldar, Guardsmen, Rebels, Orks, and now Tyranids. Damn, this gunna be crazy to keep track of.

I liked the end lines most of all. Yeah it's guna be crazy, but it should be good

The possibilities here are truly exciting.

So much scope for so much varied mayhem.

I'll try not to grow attached to any characters, as I reckon the death toll will be through the roof ...

 Necroagogo wrote:
The possibilities here are truly exciting.

So much scope for so much varied mayhem.

I'll try not to grow attached to any characters, as I reckon the death toll will be through the roof ...

We can only hope

Sergeant Erik woke up and felt like hell, his body ached and throbbed. Attempting to get up from the makeshift bed he had slept in for some twelve hours, his body did not take kindly to the amount abuse it had received. He knew that age was taking its toll of him but he still managed to turn heads when he stretched. Reaching for his jacket and boots he cursed this damned world and anything not wearing a imperial eagle on their shoulder.
Having dressed and feeling somewhat alive he walked out in to the day that awaited him. Outside he was greeted by a trooper he knew, asking for news about the regiment he only got grim news. It seemed of the almost thousand men that had set out two days he was the lone survivor. Thus the regiment that had on deployment been fifteen thousand strong was reduced down to a mere five thousand. This loss added to the other casualties taken in the last month had left the men still alive ragged and on edge. Lighting a Ilho stick he drew a deep smoke filled breath and began to make his way to the briefing that was due to start in a few minutes.
Sitting beside a buxom and rather pretty Cadian captain he tried to keep his mind on the briefing, and not the absolute clusterfrak the manoeuvre him and his boys had tried on. The sheer amount of rebels and the way they had turned on them made his hair stand on edge. It was then he realized he would most likely die here on this bloody world but by the power of all things holy he would sure as hell die fighting.
Looking to his side he saw the captain blink at him and as she passed him a small paper note with details far from mission oriented he realized a smile had crept onto his weather worn face.

Farseer Lothica gazed upon the myriads of threads that surrounded her as she sat in silent meditation, her face not revealing the swirling chaos inside her as she consider the countless options she had layed out before her. She was unlike most of her kin, her face ruined by a long and hideous scar that ran from the line of her black hair and further down beneath her robes to the harsh and ice cold voice of hers. She was considered by many of her kin to be a mistress of ice and hate alone but none could deny her prowess as a seer and as a warrior. Her body bore the evidence to back those claims up. Letting out a sigh she ended her attempt at finding inner calm and rose from her place of rest.
Exciting the small chamber that was her own she found herself flanked by her two most senior warlocks and the eerily figure of the Banshee exarch. That woman was one of few that could claim to be her match with a bladed weapon and yet she was so far apart from herself as one could possibly become, lost upon the path of the warrior she had become a spectre of death whenever she left the shrine she called home back on the craft world. To see one who could have risen to untold heights being held in one path alone made her hearth weep and her mind damn all those who had caused the Eldar so much grief.

Followed by her bodyguards she stepped out into the day, a cold wind swept across the compound and greeted her with its cold embrace. The sky was the colour of steel and showed promises of rain.
“Show me then warlock, display the reason for dragging me out into the cold!” she said with poorly concealed annoyance, her old injuries ached but the pain was only a fleeting notion and something she had become used to living with. Even if it did cause her suffering.


The one in question did not delay in doing so, he lead the group over to where several rangers stood motionless with their long rifles slung over their shoulders. The leader bowed deeply for her and begun to tell of the discovery they had made.
“The camp was noting short of a charrnelhouse, the humans who had occupied it had been ripped to shreds. At first we assumed it was the work of the Orks or perhaps Astartes, but we found no spent shell casings or footprints. What we did find however was far, far more disheartening. The massacrer was the work of a single creature.” he said and paused for a drink of water from his flask. Putting the flask down he continued.
“It is my firm belief that a vanguard organism did track them, and ultimately attacked and killed them all. However the best was wounded it seemed. We found several large pools of ichor that could only have come from a Tyrannid.”
Reviving these news she took a moment to form a acceptable response.
“I see ranger, you and your brethren have my thanks. I will ask one more thing of you however, find that beast and slay it! You will be given what you need to do so, name it and it shall be yours.”
The seasoned wanderer nodded and offered a few words of thanks before turning to discuss with his fellows.

As she walked away she said to her warlocks.
“prepare the host for battle! Too long have my kin gone without battle. We will strike at these fools and show them the wrath of the Eldar!”
The ones in question nodded and left her to preform their tasks, this left her with only the Banshee exarch as a guardian. And that suited her just fine, she knew her old comrade seldom felt the need to talk or other things. She was too busy reliving battles past and the coming ones to nurture social relations.

While the Eldar begun to form up for battle someone else was busy with something else. Sergeant Erik lay on his back and let out a sigh of pleasure, well he never imagined briefings could end in that way. His chest and biceps was covered in marks left by the nails of the Cadian Captain who had slipped him a note informing him of her interest in a private post briefing “consultation”.
After watching her rather half heartedly getting dressed and walking out of the conference room he too got his uniform back on and made sure to get any lipstick washed away. The last thing he wanted was to bump into that snarling wildcat of a Commissar with traces of red lipstick on his chin. Granted she knew the men was weary and all that followed but by the Emperor one thing she enforced with a iron hard hand was that all on duty personnel should appear somewhat awake and cleaned up.
He entered the communication bunker some time later and walked over to the same vox operator he had talked to while inquiring about the unknown snipers.
“Any news for me and the lads? And one more thing Id appreciate if you would do for me, let me know if anyone else run into those unseen helpers of mine.” the private nodded and informed him that there was no news that had not been discussed at the briefing. Deciding that he should get his men brought up to speed on their new task at hand he left the smoke filled communication bunker and once more stepped out into the increasingly could day.

Nicely written. That Lictor ain't gonna go down easy.

Oh rest assured, the Xeno will play a important role in this story, and thank you LoneLictor

Lictors are the greatest thing to ever happen to 40k. They're giant Cthulu commando assassins with hooves, claws, and scything talons.

Liked this chapter alot, well done

I think you maybe your setting us up for a mighty clash of swirling dust and choke of battle. With the odd screams of battle rage, the roaring of the guns, and clatter of arms with the sounds of the dying as an under tone thrown in. Can't wait.

Good to hear we agree on the Lictors! I first had a Carnifex cast for that role, but then I realized a monster the size of a house would hardly manage stealt. And as for battles, when have I not included one or more of those

This story is awesome!! please continue

The beast growled and its talons flexed as it disregarded the last of the prey items it had claimed. It had felt the sting of the prey several time and it had felt its ichor dripping down onto the cold ground. Its chitin covered form shuddered as it sucked the last remains of the brains out of the head it grasped in its nimble mandible.
The head with a bloody hole punched straight through is left eye socket fell down and joined the others who lay there gaping with eyes frozen in terror. Having gained what it needed to speed up the mending of its wounds the lictor flickered its tale and begun to move at great speed due west, it followed a familiar trail of pheromones.

Scrambling across a burnt out wreck and the corpses of dead rebels the beast propelled by powerful legs landed with a thud on the roof, it stood there for a moment as if regaining its breath before once more breaking into a pace of speed almost unimaginable for a creature its since. Anyone who could have seen the glitter in its eyes would have sworn the beast looked like it was enjoying itself. Raising its scything talons to grab hold of a broken ledge and hauling itself up it found itself looking down upon a raging battle. Below the green prey fought the pale prey in a territorial battle it seemed like to its bestial mind.
Emitting a low grumble it was about to hunker down when a tingeing sense told it was being targeted by unseen pray intent on killing it. Leaping high up into the air and turning before landing the beast let out a fierce howl and looked for its foe, it was then a shimmering streak of light missed its head by a mere inch.
Realizing its foe was not in the immediate surroundings it activated its biopowerd cloak and vanished as if into thin air. However the beast felt the urge to shed blood creep into its mind. And a familiar inner sense told it to seek the hidden foe and usurp its mind.

It spotted a faint hint of movement a hundred meters or so ahead of it and began to make its way there while maintaining its cover. As it drew nearer its mandibles started to flicker and the great talons was poised to strike.
It was then it realized the prey had deceived it, a howl that would have broken the mind of any other mortal creature echoed across the roofs and shell marked town squares. A prey with blood red and glittering skin armed with two shimmering objects of biting vaulted over a rubble pile and came rushing towards it. Behind this foolish prey several others appeared armed with those hated long weapons that spat biting rays of light.
However now it had its prey where it wanted it, dropping the cloak it rose up and snapped angry with its scything talons, launching itself forwards intent on tackling and ripping the prey apart then making its escape it came on hard. But its prey simply melted away and rewarded it with a stinging bite in its left flank. The beats now realized what kind of foe it faced, this was no normal prey. But a leader prey that needed to be handled with care and disposed of accordingly.

Exarch Nimrosa stood silently as a statue as the ranger took the shot, and she watched with a small sense of pleasure as the shot missed the foul beast and alerted it to their presence. Perhaps she would get to slay it herself and claim its head for the bloody handed god. The rangers alerted her to the approaching beast and the seasoned warrior sprung into action, her powerful frame allowed her to vault and bypass the obstacles in her way as she raced to intercept the foul creature. Seeing a faint reflection of light upon its hide she activated the mask she wore and howled her mournful and hateful song of battle.
Her mirror swords was drawn from the scabbards as she landed in front of the beast and looked upon her prey, its massive frame and coal black skin broken up by old wounds and new ones was like a map showing of its time spent rampaging this world.
When it delivered the first blow towards her she had anticipated and simply melted out of its path while rewarding it with two fast but rather shallow cuts to its flank. That seemed to trigger a change in how the beast viewed her as a opponent.

Snarling behind her mask she dashed forwards and jabbed upwards with her blades, only to connect with two immensely strong paws that gripped the blades and in one fell twist shattered them, showering the both of them in a fountain of razor sharp shrapnel.
Now she knew she was doomed to die on this roof, managing to avoid a swipe from one of the scything talons she looked for a weapon of sorts. Seeing a long slender iron pipe she made a dash for and picked it up with steady hands.

Kill prey now! Rend and tear then flee! Was the commands the voice muttered in its mind as the alpha broke the two annoying prey things who had drawn blood from it. Striking with its talons it barely missed and snarled in displeasure. The main pray had found a new tool to wield as a weapon, the long thing looked like it would not harm its chitin covered body and as it drew closer it could almost smell and taste the brain of the prey. Yes the hive mind would use this prey to gain more knowledge.

“Get out of the way Nimrosa” the ranger yelled and attempted to line up a shot, he felt a shiver of dread creeping up his spine as he viewed the two fighters duke it out.
Nimrosa was being forced backwards by the sheer ferocity by the attacks of the alpha lictor. She was a very capable warrior but this beast strained her skills, but she relished the thrill of battle and the rush of adrenaline surging in her veins. But suddenly the beast managed knock her down and pinned her down with both of its scything talons. Just as it raised its paw to strike a shot hammered into its left leg making its screech in agony.
The beast growled in anticipation of the kill to come, and raised its paws to rip it apart and savour its brain, it knew it needed to make the kill fast and then disappear. But as it was about to do so a stabbing pain blossomed in its left leg. Howling it forgot the prey before it and a new directive came to mind. Run! Hide! Recover then resume hunt for prey!
With a last screech of anger the lictor made its escape as the downed banshee was helped to her feet by the rangers who had provided aid when she needed it. Blood pooling where she had been brought down, the beast had escaped them but not for long. The rangers would resume their hunt when they had made sure the downed Exarch had been given over to those who could tend to he hands of those who would mend her wounds and make her fit for combat once again.

As they left the roof who had been their battleground a pair of eyes followed them, hidden in a burnt out tower it watched them disappear into the maze of ruined streets. Rumbling as if angered by their behaviour it slammed its talons into the wall in a outburst of anger and animalistic behaviour. It was I no shape to pursue them but the pheromones one of the rangers had accidentally stepped in would later be enough o guide it after them. And then no one would escape its ambush.

Who said you couldn't write from a nids point of view, that was very well done and i liked it very much, good work!

My I just say sir that that was AWESOME

gak, that fight was insane. You described it really well, to the point where I started visualizing it and reading it was almost like watching a movie.

Damn, Lictors are badass.

 LoneLictor wrote:
gak, that fight was insane. You described it really well, to the point where I started visualizing it and reading it was almost like watching a movie.

Damn, Lictors are badass.

Thanks and glad you found the beast savage enough,

Farseer Lothica looked down upon the dying man laying on the ground before her, his guts a bloodied mess as a direct result of the last blow she had delivered. All around her the last of the human rebels where being put out of their misery, either by sword or by gun the aspect warriors ended these primitive brutes suffering. However this one would get no such thing as a easy or pain free death. This was the leader of the rabble and he would die according to his traitorous standards.
Yanking her spear free she spat on the whimpering mortal and left him to die in agony.
Her Dire Avengers had preformed as they always did, reading the battle like a seer might read fate or the future they had cut the defenders to ribbons while the rangers had picked f heavy weapon crews and such foes from afar. But what had broken the defenders of this heavily fortified compound was the trio of Wrath lords who towered above their kin, and who had brought their immense power to bear upon their foe. Sweeping trenches and wrecking the enemy armour they had broken the enemy. Now they stood silent and unmoving but ready to spring into life if needed once again. Their wraith swords who looked to the untrained eye to be cast from bronze glittered in the sun.

As she walked to rejoin her warlocks and the leader of the Dire Avengers a voice she knew and loved spoke to her in her mind.
“The battle is won, as it was foreseen. We walk the path of fire and war once again, for this you have our thanks.”
Turning to look at the one who had spoken those words who sent shivers of longing down her spine a single tear dripped down her chin, and fell to the ground as a leaf might do in autumn.
The speaker was the Wraith lord who stood nearest to her, once he had been a shining example to the whole craft world but now he was reduced to this form of life. Only kept alive by his soul stone.
“You need not thank me my love, hearing your voice is like the sound of paradise to me.” she replied and found it remarkable hard to keep her posture when a well of emotions suddenly came to life in her wounded hearth.
To this the lord of wraiths had no reply, he only seemed to dip his massive form in a bow to her and then turn to once again loose himself in the memories of days long past.

None of those observing this spoke about it, they knew all too well not to ask any questions regarding the unlikely pair. For that was to tempt the wrath of the farseerer who could rival any other creature when her ire was up, and her veins throbbed with almost uncontrolled rage.


Meanwhile while the Eldar counted the slain and returned to their war camp something else was also on the hunt for prey.
The alpha moved with a slight limp along the rubble strewn street, no one was to be seen or smelled. This calmed it and allowed it to focus on tracking, a foul stench filled its nostrils as it sought to find the green prey who had left these tracks. If a beast such as this could have worn a face of utter disgust ti would have done so. The green things tasted rather bad and the smell they made was not pleasant either, but the worst thing was their habit of travelling in large and well armed groups. Even a lone green was a dangerous and challenging foe for it.

As it turned the corner it found itself looking directly at a massive green surrounded by other massive ones too, countless others also swarmed around it. This was something that made the beast forget any thoughts about prey and more concerned with avoiding detection. A fight with all thee prey would have dire consequences the familiar voice told it.
Hide and then seek out the leader prey, slay and devour under the cloak of dark the new directions told it.

“What you mean the rebels are all dead? Did they all bloody shoot themselves!” asked a rather annoyed Sergeant Erik as the lowly private told of what they had discovered while out on a patrol. It was not that he minded dead rebels, far from it. But he did mind having a unknown force going about and assaulting heavily fortified compounds and then butchering anyone in it without leaving any casualties behind. As he stood there and fumed and tried to make sense of it all the shaking private who was one of the new arrivals into this war dropped something down on the desk in front of him.

“We also found this embedded in a wall, one of the other lads managed to get it out though."
this caught the attention of the sergeant who almost dropped the cup of recaff he was holding and muttered a low curse.

“Bloody hell! Well this is bad, you have any frakking idea what this is private!” he asked in a rather excited voice.
“Uh some kinda shrapnel?” the young boy asked and begun to look somewhat worried.
Getting to his feet and grabbing his jacket and indicating that he should follow the sergeant begun to walk at a brisk pace while giving him the answer.
“No far from it, this bloody thing is a piece of spent Eldar munitions for those xeno weapons of theirs! Oh and private you got a new rank, you are as of now field promoted to corporal for handing over this piece of the puzzle!” the sergeant said as the pair set a straight course for the command bunker.

Why do I have the feeling that Sergeant Erik is about to have his brain eaten by a Lictor?

Great new entry.

well he got his jollies so least he can die with a smile on his face Nicely written, more please.

sounds like there is gonna be a showdown between the ork warboss and the tyranid alpha lictor!! cant wait need more!

The command bunker was busy as always when the two men walked in,one a gaunt and scarred man who drew near to the age of forty years, while the second was a young boy barely out of his teens. The sergeant patted his young comrade in arms on the back and said.
“Tell them what you told me, and try to relax. You did bloody well out there, any of the lads who where with you will swear upon that.”
Drawing a small bottle containing Amasec he offered some to the nervous and newly promoted youth. The boy took the flask with some hesitation and took a sip, and promptly gasped for air. Handing the bottle back and coughing he muttered several words that would have peeled paint of walls.

“Not much of a drinker eh? “ asked Erik and put the flask away while grinning like a wolf.
“No sir, cant say I am. You know how us city boys are” the boy said and regained his posture.
Nodding in approval of the answer Erik lead the way for the last stretch until they reached the main C&C room.
As they turned the corner they found themselves looking directly into the barrels of several hell guns. The cadre of storm troopers who stood guard took no chances, even with people they had seen come and go countless times before. Each visitor was searched for weapons and hidden items while under heavy guard.
Satisfied the two troopers from the 227th Anaheim light foot where not rebels or anything like that they opened the heavy blast doors and allowed them entrance.

Inside sat a score of officers and other Imperial personnel and awaited the news the duo was carnying, but the figure that caught their eyes first was the gaunt and stern faced commissar who walked in behind them with one hand resting on her power sword. She was a imposing woman who had on several occasions proved crucial when the heat of battle raged. She was as skilled with the sword as she was at putting the fear of the god emperor back into those who thought they could avoid doing their part in the war effort. As a wraith clad in black she took her reserved seat at the back of the room and sat down with her great coat hugging her frame.

Erik got the go ahead to begin telling the assembled officers and command staff what one of his reckon squads had stumbled upon.

“ladies, gents and commissar. As you are aware of one of my reckon teams made a discovery early this morning that could in my humble opinion have a great impact on the war we are trying to win.”
With those words spoken he nodded to the tech priest who flicked a switch and much to the amusement of the assembled men and women he cursed in binary and kicked the holo projector hard when a improper image appeared on the screen. The screen flickered once more and a recording began to play, it showed a compound layed in ruins by a unknown force, and hundreds of rebels put to the sword. Great craters covered the ground and the smouldering wrecks of tanks and transports could be seen on the blurry screen.
The voices of men who was used to war and carnage but seldom had seen anything like this could be heard while the one operating the camera remained silent. As the film progressed the audience could see the crucified remains of what seemed to be the leader of the rebels. The man had been gutted by a blade of sorts and then had been nailed to a massive door who had been blown of its hinges.

Then the camera went black and the presentation ended. It was then the good sergeant and his newly promoted companion displayed the shuriken star the young man had secured as a potential clue to who or what had committed the slaughter .


“Before anyone says anything about damned Xenos and such let me say what we all are thinking” the colonel and got to his feet. Looking to his assembled men he composed himself despite the wounds who caused him much pain and said.
“Everyone here knew this was not going to be a easy one. Lord knows we have enough with the blasted green skins and rebels thrown into one massive frakfest without those damned Eldar creeping about! Instruct your men to take no unnecessary risks, we need everyone alive and kicking if we are going to managed to break the deadlock we are currently in. I got word from th higher ups that we can expect reinforcements in three weeks time. Until then we are all that holds this place. Now up and at them boys and girls” he said and slumped back down onto his chair with a horrid mask of pain on his face.

As the officers filed out Erik and Thomas could see the commissar kneeling beside the colonel and handing him a packet of painkillers and a reassuring pat on the shoulder. The bond between the two was well know. Both where as if made of the hardest steel but with the occasional soft spot emerging to show than they had not lost their humanity along the way. More importantly was the fact both knew, soldiers needed leaders who was not afraid of facing the music even if it meant death and serious harm to one self.

“Keep that in mind lad! You will be hard pressed to find a more reliable ally if you need one in the commissar. She is far more than a simply tool for keeping cowards in line, she is the glue that binds us all together in the hard times we face. Add that to the bond that already exist in the regiment and you get a rock hard foundation to build on.” Erik said and lead the way back to barracks.
While the two Anaheimers walked back in silence with only the howling and bitterly cold wind as company the colonel suffered horrid pains while the commissar never left his side. She sat by his bed and held his hand as the waves of agony assailed him.
No one who could have seen her tear drenched eyes and red face would have thought of her as a figure of dread and nightmares to new recruits and those who sought to slip away from duty.