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Venerable Ancient
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PostSubject: Death Squads - Eldar Battle Reports   Mon 18 May 2009 - 7:01

This is a copy of the stories created by our Eldar player, James. While a little long, the stories are AWESOME! Enjoy! Very Happy

Exarch Naois' Warhost Journal

Was the Farseer an imbecile? The thought gave Exarch Naois no pleasure as he perched atop the wreckage and the twisted remains of the downed spacecraft. First the Farseer demanded deception and double dealing with the foul orks upon arrival at this planet, and then the discovery that there is another group of orks seemingly working at odds against the first group. How did the Farseer not know of this? The thought of his Temple’s weapon in the hands of those filthy animals…

The Exarch’s blood pounded in his viens. A hot wind blew across the plain and whistled through the ruined buildings. Some of the ship’s wreckage creaked and moaned under its caress. The Eldar force didn’t make a sound as they searched for more of the valuable objects his most trusted warriors were already carrying.

The Exodites had performed well, Naois thought, they almost made up for the Farseer’s second mistake. The Exarch had been instructed to form his perimeter around the human orbital defense towards the side where the second moon shown low on the horizon. The Farseer had been specific! The fury of Khaine pounded in the Naois’s heart at the thought. Sometimes when dealing with that Ancient being it felt as is he wasn’t even there. The Seer would sometimes look right through those he advised seemingly unaware of them as he spoke of inconsequential subjects, and then other times he could see the exquisite pain that drove Naois’s soul and speak directly to it.

Maybe the rumors were true, maybe it was time for the seer to join the crystal forest and pass his mantle on. Some called him senile, but none yet moved openly against him. Naois wasn’t sure just how he felt yet. His temple surely hadn’t flourished under the Farseer, but he was a young Exarch and those dark happenings had been so long ago. Now he was the Farseer’s pawn in this clandestine gamble, on this unknown world hardly worthy of the Craftworld’s notice.

He had been denied his bloodshed! The Orks crude teleporter had expelled the foul beasts in flash of green light on the opposite side of the weapon! How had the Farseer made this error? The thought darkened his mood, and his hand moved to the hilt of his sword in anticipation of the slaughter that had never come. The Orks had destroyed the weapon in seconds! The Exarch’s Warhost had moved to prevent it. Naois had even taken out a Greenskin attempting to conceal itself!

Naois chuckled to himself, as sneaky as an ork was an insult amongst the Scorpions towards the Aspirants; goading them to use their anger in order to focus. Only Moina, promising young Guradian that she was, had managed another kill; Having shot an Ork cleanly though the ears. Naois was surprised it had died, as there wasn’t much between those features that an Ork relied upon.

The resulting explosion had punched the Eldar force to the ground and in the smoke and haze the Orks, with their mission complete had moved off. The Exodites could have tracked them easily and the Eldar Warhost could’ve caught them, but the sharp eyes of Vruhar had noticed that somewhere, one of the primitive human orbital defence weapons had launched and in the resulting explosion high in the atmosphere a terminally damaged craft was rapidly descending.

Was this what the Farseer had forseen? Was this the objective? Coincidence is a forbidden word to the Eldar, and so Naois had made the only choice he could and moved off towards where the scouts had indicated the craft would come down. Having secured several of the items the Farseer was interested in within the wreckage, the Scorpion Exarch wondered
now if all he had been through was indeed part of the Farseer’s plan or if the Ancient advisor only babbled about disjointed visions as he neared the end of his illustrious path.

We are not alone Exarch, Mon’Keigh approach. The thought shot through his considerations, and brought his focus back to wreckage of the ship and the ruined human shrine it had landed amongst. His Warhost sensing his sharpening tension melted silently into the long shadows formed by the columns of the wasted church. The though had come from Vruhar, formerly an Exodite, now returned to the path of Guardian for reasons of his own. Once again along side some of his Exodite brethren his razor sharp skills for scouting had returned to the forefront.

The two Exodites looked at one another, then at Vruhar, and bowed their heads at once in both respect and
envy. Locate them. Naois directed his thought at the Exodites allowing them a chance to redeem themselves. One split off into the remains of the whistling church, disappearing into its ruined arches, the other climbed up a sun bleached column and peered carefully over the top.

They come across the plain Exarch, they must be unaware of our presence. The scout’s thought made available to the entire Warhost. Kahine’s promise thundered in the Exarch’s ears, his soul craved the destruction about to commence. Was this the moment? Naois thought to himself. Commissar Dabank, apparently some kind of Mon’Keigh officer, had the Ork known Naois had heard that name before? How could he? Was this the time, were these Dabanks’s humans?

The Farseer had told him this name, that his and the Mon’Keigh Dabank’s fates were inexorably entwined. That neither could live nor die together, that all they could do is collide together. The thought finally gave the Exarch some pleasure; that somewhere on the forsaken rock there was an enemy worthy of his attention.

Enemy mine, thought Naois, is now the time?

The bunch of humans closed in on the crash site so loudly they’d have woken a sleeping Grox. The scouts looked disgusted at the poor display of stealth, by comparison the Orks had been good. They were even speaking in the blunt barking tongue, humans called speech. To Naois it sounded more as if they expelled gasses, than anything intelligible.

Corrupted scavengers.

The thought implied the condescension the scout felt. An image of the ragtag band of human was passed to each of the Eldar from the Exodite’s position on the bone colored spire. One of them even had obvious mutations. These creatures were blight upon the universe that they could even allow such to walk amongst their own!

Nothing more than wasteland scum coming after the prizes the Eldar had already seized. Not Dabank, not like the images he’d been shown by the Farseer. Yet to come then, the Exarch thought. These humans will pay in blood for his impatience to find this Dabank.

The Humans came out of the sun and began to cling to what little cover the wrecked craft provided. The wind screamed even louder as they approached, roaring through the spindly remains of the buildings and shrieking through the pointed windows.

Dry relentless heat was all the wind brought, the promise of violence was in the air; it was as if the wind knew it and craved it. Perhaps that is just my soul, thought Naois, and not the wind.

Even the howling wind wasn’t enough to cover the noise of their approach. The main body of the human force shifted into the cover of some high rock walls as they got close. A few of worst equipped covered themselves in the wreckage of the spacecraft’s cockpit well away from the human leader and his guard. Their error was plain in his mind, those humans were exposed. Though they were hiding it would take little to tempt them to reveal themselves, and then they would die. Move forward, make yourselves known to them, but keep to the cover. As one the Eldar Warhost darted from spire to spire in the ruins at the Exarch’s psychic command, only the Exodites remained still sighting their rifles to where the human rabble lay.

The humans took the bait, as the Exarch had known they would. The Rabble raised a short snub weapon and aimed it at Moina, who had made it closer to them than any other. The primitive gun belched forth a blunt slug that hit young Guardian with such force that it knocked her out of cover and the humans took the chance to fire again.

Naois wouldn’t have been the least surprised if they had begun to throw rocks as primitive as the weapons they used were. The wound was superficial, and at the last second Moina turned her fall into an elegant roll; the human bullets flying over her as she sprung back into cover. The Dire Avenger flanked out behind the second Exodite, as sharp buzz issued from his Laser rifle. One of the humans pitched back as his skull erupted in a red plume, a white line flashed between the scout’s rifle and the bloody ruin.

Yes, bring them the message of Kahine!

A web of finger width beams of light issued forth from the Warhost’s position. The flanking Dire Avenger opened up with his Shuriken catapult, sending a hail of razor sharp projectiles through the wind into the humans. Realizing their peril, the humans charged forwards out of cover in a last desperate attempt to do some damage to their attackers and make their escape.

Brave but futile, short lived and in such a rush to die; the Exarch Naois thought that he would never understand the Mon’Keigh. The last of the exposed humans were cut down: one by the elegant dual Laser pistols of the Aspirant Avenger Lhir, the other by the well placed shots of Vruhar. Without firing another shot, the corrupted Mon’Keigh leader and his personal guard left the crash site. Falling back in a covered formation, now showing they wouldn’t be so easily taken a second time.

Shall we pursue, Exarch? No, we need to get these items back to the Webgate, we’re expected. At least Naois hoped he was, that the Seer’s vision was so accurate.
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Venerable Ancient
Venerable Ancient

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PostSubject: Re: Death Squads - Eldar Battle Reports   Mon 18 May 2009 - 7:02

Week 3 Game 1: Breakthrough!

The items had been taken to the webgate and sent on to the Craftworld to be delivered by Vruhar. He had volunteered for the honor, and could hardly be denied by the Exarch. If he had not seen the descending craft and found its crash site, the items would never have been found. Before leaving he had handed his shuriken catapult to Guardian Iden, and disappeared into the insubstantial nothing that formed the gate’s portal. There was an odd melancholy that all the Eldar sensed, a finality of sorts, which left them confused. Only the Exodite rangers, seemed to understand; but they revealed nothing to the rest. Vruhar returned a few days later, but something was different. He once again carried the Eldar long rifle he had long ago foresworn for the rigid paths of the Craftworld. Naois was taken aback.

“Tell me then, you have made the choice?” He asked accusingly in the Eldar verse.

The lilting note of Eldar speech mingled with the avian songs of the native fauna deep in the woods where the Webgate was hidden. The birds changed their song to be part of the harmony of the Exarch’s voice, as if what he had said had come from the very soul of the planet itself.

For a fierce moment Vruhar looked into the reflective sapphire eyes set into the Exarch’s helmet, and unable to hold that awful gaze for long he turned his eyes down.

I will continue to serve as I said I would Exarch, I hold honor above all else. However I will do so free from the monotony of the Craftworld’s paths. I will do so only as a truly free Son of Asuryan, I find myself once again Exodite.

The Exarch’s mood turned black. The birds stopped singing abruptly. All the Eldar cringed at the psychic pang of Naois’ fury. What a loss to the temple, he snarled inwardly. That Vruhar’s talents be wasted to the capricious ways of those not focused enough to follow the Craftworld paths, much less the way of the warrior.

The conflict between Vruhar’s usefulness and the terrible loss to the Scorpion temple his choice represented was as if psychic storm tore through the Eldar in the glade. Desperate passion and stoic pride crashed as between the ocean and shore.

“Fine then.” No birds dared sing with the Exarch this time. “You’ve spoken with him?” Yes, Exarch. He told me… The Pathfinder paused. The thought finished as if deflected from its course.

He told me Moina is to be accepted to the order of the Banshees.

The Eldar felt the rush of Moina,’s pride, the fierce resentment of Naois faded into the back of their minds. The Exarch turned his head in her direction and nodded in approval. Her intake of breath swelled her inner strength, and seemingly her stature; she held his eyes long enough to look away proudly.

He also wonders, Exarch, if you have found the Nexus of which he spoke to you.

Fury once again clenched at Naois’ soul. Days passed and the Warhost was no closer to finding the Nexus. That continued until Ela’Ashbel began to guide them. The beautiful witch had begun to feel the presence of one of the ley lines that lay beneath the surface of this planet and formed the path to the Nexus.

The path led them to a war torn Mon’Keigh city. Many buildings still stood, but none of them completely intact, but beneath this city lay the nexus. By the looks of it the Imperial city had prospered up until recently, probably never once even suspecting why their fortunes had been so grand.

This Nexus had that kind of power, but as they approached the psychic pulse that was their objective Ela’Ashbel grew weaker and feinted. The Warhost had to stop, each of the Eldar’s love for the fallen witch forming a protective cushion and carefully suspending her from a psychic collapse.

Eventually, she opened her eyes. Dreamily at first but rapidly spreading to panic as her eyes betrayed her fear.

It’s corrupted! Her psychic wail seemed to hold still even the constant wind for a moment. It’s unpure Exarch, were too late. A lone tear ran down her beautiful face.

Why were they here then? The desperate ache in his soul began once again, everything turned red in his vision as if covered in blood. Was the effort useless? The Farseer had to be confronted with this and it had to be him that did it.

We move back to the Webway! Now! Naois sent. Moments later the Warhost moved rapidly through the city. They had to get through as soon as they could.

Ela’Asbel stumbled and gripped her head. We will not make it without conflict. Even now a trap is prepared for us, her mind-voice a gentle whisper in their heads.

Good, thought the Exarch, he wanted this fight. Whoever this enemy was they must pay for their impudence. We need to get through though; the news of this fallen planet’s fate had to reach the Farseer as soon as could be. He wanted to deliver it personally, if possible. Ahead lay an open courtyard surrounded by high buildings. The buildings barely held together by their supporting construction, many holes in their sides and roofs; too many windows from which to fire down into the courtyard from cover. A single tall tower stood, it too partially ruined.

This is a killing field, a perfect place for Maugan Ra to harvest souls. This is where I would set the trap. They are here, I know it. Vruhar take the scouts into this building and cover that courtyard. Lhir, take Iden and Ela’Ashbel and see if you can find us a way through. The Exarch’s thoughts ran as ice water through the Warhost.

The Exodites moved into the two story house past the mundane items and ruined furniture left by the human families that, must’ve once lived here. Vruhar paused briefly on the stairs to the second level and turned to the scouts, Hold this level and kill anything that gets close. Vruhar then darted up the stairs four at a time, gracefully missing the broken steps.

At the top of the flight Vruhar settled against the window and brought up his Long rifle, few weapons matched it in sophistication and grace. He laid it through the window and peered though its sight. It immediately identified a Mon’Keigh pathetically attempting to conceal itself against a catwalk support not large enough to hide its bulk. The Pathfinder played the scope across the nervous features of watching sweat drip from his brow.

I have one in my sights, Exarch, sent Vruhar.

Confirmed, I see one with a crude fire weapon cowering behind the archway, thought another of the Exodites. These humans appear to be more organized than the last group; their uniforms show them to be soldiers of the human’s Corpse God.

Do not hold back, bring them death! The Exarch thundered in the minds of the warhost.

Vruhar sent a psychic impulse to his long rifle feeling its hunger and bade it to fire. Its silent but powerful shot knocked the human to the ground in pain. The scouts on the level beneath opened fire on through the breezeway of the building on the opposite side of the courtyard and into the second story where they sighted movement.

Lhir flanked out to the right with Iden and the Witch Ela. They came to a high wall and heard the opening shots as the scouts began to fire into the Mon’Keigh waiting in ambush. He drew his ancient laser pistols and hopped around the wall into a narrow alley behind a burnt out two story home. Through the gaping hole in the middle he could just make out the movement of humans and saw one fall as Vruhar found his mark.

Here, around to the right. We may yet find a way through! Lhir sent to his nearby companions. As they rounded the corner the three of them were surprised to find two of the Mon’Keigh warriors skirting around the house, who looked just as startled to see the Eldar.

The astonishment lasted the briefest of seconds and then all hell broke loose as they opened up fire. Iden launched a hail of shuriken at the humans while Lhir still coming to a halt fired both of his laspistols. Ela’Ashbel, still unused to the violence and chaos of combat struggled to bring forth her power to aid the Avenger Lhir in his aim. She couldn’t quite get the incantation right and her attempt dissipated on the winds of the warp.

Dirt and long bladed grass kicked up from the ground where bullets hit, splinters shattered off the ruined home as shuriken atomized the exterior walls, and black holes surrounded in flame appear where Lhir’s shots had gone astray. In the first exchange of fire not a single shot hit its mark.

A bright orange light and scorching heat pushed out of the doorway to the left of Lhir. The plume of liquid fire cascaded down upon Iden whose psychic scream was cut short as he fell to the ground covered in burning promethium.

Ela had all she could take, the voice of Khaine focused her rage into a powerful psychic force and she rushed forward hands extended in front of her, fingers spread wide. With the young witches’ face contorted in anger; interlacing tendrils of electric purple formed in thousands of arcs and reached out to embrace the two humans. Both began to spasm and one began to burn in unnatural purple fire.

Lhir began to fire his pistols in rapid succession, and Ela’Ashbel still focused by her anger successfully reached out to guide his aim. Lhir’s lances of super accelerated light blasted great holes into the human in three places. The Exarch rounded the corner behind Lhir in time to see the human die.

Vruhar saw the flash of the flame weapon stab out from the great hole in the center of the house towards where Lhir and Ela were fighting. Then he felt Iden’s psychic shriek. Where had that flame weapon soldier come from so quickly?

Scouts, Vengeance for Iden! Terminate that trooper with the fire weapon!

Vruhar coaxed his Elegant rifle to fire once more, with a soft pop a great beam of light blew a body sized hole out of the wall above the head of the flame trooper. Exodite Varlun redirected his Lasrifle away from the building above the breezeway where he had already dropped a shirtless human jungle fighter, and fired at the flame trooper as well. His shot hit part of the ruined wall short of its target and it exploded in a cloud of rockcrete dust.

The last Exodite realizing his shot must count, twisted in place and snapped off a fast shot over the shoulder of Varlun that slammed into the Mon’keigh trooper with the Flamer. The hit severely wounded his shoulder and pitched him to the ground crying out in pain, saving Lhir and the Exarch from further flame attacks.

Good work Exodites! Rain death upon the courtyard! Keep them from moving on the Exarch! Thought Vruhar.

Below him Las and autogun fire peppered the first story of the small building the Exodites occupied. The shots knocked one Exodite to the ground and the Varlun took a shot in the neck that nearly separated his head from the rest of him. Exodite Varlun was blown back against the far wall of the structure and slumped to the floor. His waystone upon his breast was now alight with the soft blue glow of containing his soul; keeping it safe from She Who Thirsts.

Across the courtyard two suicidal humans began to approach the Exodites position. Vruhar brought his Long Rifle to bear, and the remaining ranger on the first floor took over firing from the window where Varlun had lost his life.

Ela’Ashbel turned towards the Exarch, her deep blue eyes still wide with the violence and pain she had caused. Exarch they are closing the trap, the door shuts we will not be able to get by them! Her panic was evident in her mind’s voice.

Naois understood now, the human
commander must consider his trooper expendable. The fight so far had been to tie him down while the rest of the Mon’keigh moved into position to prevent the Eldar from escaping. No chance to move out then, so let them come; they will pay a high price for this prize.

Fall back behind the hovel, we will hold there and fill the streets with their blood. Naois commanded.

The Warhost fell back into the cover of the Exodite’s fire around the corner, back behind the blown out house. Ela’Ashbel peering over the wall and through the middle of the ruined home saw the threat first. A second flame trooper was moving into position to force the Eldar out of cover.

She focused inwardly, letting the rage at Iden’s injuries flood her with psychic power. She looked at the approaching flame trooper and fixed his stare and dove into his mind. She forced to the surface his insecurities and pain, his feelings of hopelessness and found a fear greater than all; and image familiar to her from her discussions with the Exarch: Comissar DaBank. It was this Mon’keigh officer that this trooper feared over all else, even more than his God Emperor.

She brought the vision of the wrong end of the Commisar’s weapon to the fore of his thoughts and in his mind it fired upon him for his cowardice. The trooper fell to the ground immediately clutching his head, feeling pain from a wound that had no physical scar.

Ela drew back from the gap in the house, slamming her back against the wall the Warhost was using for cover. She could see the Exodites firing out of the first and second story windows and past the hovel from the building behind their position, the Mon’keigh return fire stitched across the front of it.

Exarch, it’s Commissar Dabank. These are his forces! Ela sent to Naois alone.

Ahh, now this made sense! The farseer was right; here was a worthy foe indeed. How many more Mon’keigh would he sell to slaughter the Eldar? Naois knew if the humans pressed forward the Eldar were too few to stand for long.

He hasn’t shown himself, not even fired a shot, leading from the rear and buying his victories with the blood of his servants. He would expect nothing more out of a human than this; a human’s life was as cheap to humans as it was to the Eldar.

A blunt bullet fired through a nearby window whisked past Lhir. He half stood from where he had been hiding and fired his pistols quickly in return, striking the shooter and knocking him senseless.

Naois stepped forward and stared thought the hole in the house searching for this Commissar Dabank. Instead a great ball of fire roared up and fell just short of the Eldar position. The Flame trooper had been disoriented by Ela’s attack but not killed; but in his confusion he had fired his weapon just out of range. Lhir fired off four quick shots and finished what the witch Ela had been unable to do. Naois hit the trooper who had fired at him seconds before with a quick burst from his shuriken pistol sending him down.

The glorious end was coming, to fall covered in his enemies blood overwhelmed by a worthy foe was enough for the Exarch. He would choose death!

Ela stood next to him and brought her gaze down from the sky. It’s over Exarch, their warship moves above us and will fire soon and they withdraw to escape its wrath. We have our chance to flee. Around him Naois heard the sounds of battle cease. It was over and he had been denied the glory of an honorable death in combat. He was becoming used to disappointment; it was apparently part of being an Exarch.

Next time Dabank. Sons and Daughters of Asyuran, we’re leaving; gather the fallen or their stones. To the webway!
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PostSubject: Re: Death Squads - Eldar Battle Reports   Mon 18 May 2009 - 10:57

Hey, hey we're the Mon'Keighs...sorry I was having a '60s moment there. geek
VERY well written narrative from the perspective of the Eldar, who MIGHT JUST be EVEN more obnoxious, effete, & arrogant than their Elven forebears. COOL STUFF! thumbsup
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PostSubject: Re: Death Squads - Eldar Battle Reports   Mon 18 May 2009 - 18:32

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