The tension was
palpable among the squad of chosen, the silence the choice that they had all
unanimously agreed upon - unspoken at all costs. Nervously they walked forward, knees bent,
crouched in the shadows as much as possible.
This served two purposes: first of all, it would hopefully allow them to
approach the Eldar position unnoticed and allow them to take the filthy xenos
by surprise; the second function kept them out of the attention of the two
commanders in their midst. Sorcerer
Yurfalk's foul mood tainted every move he made, facial expression, grunt and
curse uttered. He jerked around as he
talked to himself, muttering about authority and some other things about orders
and hierarchy. Lord Bontav smoldered,
his eyes an inferno, his bearing overwhelming, every step seeming to leave
cracks in the concrete.
Explosions went off
far off to their right, screams following, the crash of hundreds of las-guns
being fired, the sporadic volume of ork 'dakka'. None could remark on it though, not if they
valued their lives. In absolute quiet
they clung to cover and advanced, Lord Bontav only occasionally giving further
orders to the squad of chosen or over the comms unit in his helmet. The 'disagreement' between the sorcerer and
the lord had been about mission objectives and deployment of troops. The sorcerer had wanted to kill all of the
xenos on the planet, and perhaps negotiate with the other chaos present on the
planet. The lord however wanted to only
do what was needed on Iothas as he had been ordered to, securing the supplies
and only killing as necessary.
Nyrtus gave a start
when Lord Bontav ordered their halt, wondering what was happening. He nervously checked his bolt-pistol, sliding
the ammo cartridge in and out with a click.
He noticed on his tactical display in his own helmet that they were
waiting for some other troops to arrive at their own destinations. In this industrial portion of the planet he
knew that the bikers had needed to weave in and out of many alleys to avoid
walls of rubble or massive pits in the earth that would easily swallow their
vehicles. Suddenly there was a boom and
thud just over his left shoulder, but he knew what it was even before he
glanced that way. The ferocious Helbrute
had plowed through a wall and, seeing some enemy that Nyrtus hadn't noticed,
fired its multi-melta, the searing substance zooming past and partially blinding
the champion as it found its destination and a resounding explosion could be
heard, followed by what was likely the targeted vehicle (for the explosion
denoted the target to be likely some sort of hovercraft) was brought to the
ground.
Swearing, Lord
Bontav ordered the absolute charge of the Chosen and the Sorcerer, and damn it
all if the bikes didn't make it in time.
Roaring their battle cry, "Death to the Virtuous!", he and his
comrades burst from their cover to a scene of complete chaos - and not that of
the warp. The burning wreckage of some
sort of skimmer was visible, its landing into an industrial complex's wall
leaving flaming debris everywhere. Eldar
were dashing around, their complex formations not instantaneously discernable,
some rushing past the destroyed vehicle, others crouching around an
unidentifiable artifact, more deploying out of transports and scrambling up to
higher levels of surrounding buildings.
There were a few transports and skimmers covered with heavy weaponry
that soared on past, but most seemed to be turning and facing the Helbrute.
Unfortunately for
him though, Nyrtus and his Chosen were in between the Eldar forces and the
Helbrute. Suddenly a fusillade of shots
spewed out from the Eldar, the vehicles and infantry unloading everything they
had. 3 of his Chosen fell to the shots,
crying out in agonizing pain as they were left behind.
"Feth it
all! They're using poison!"
Nyrtus shouted to
Lord Bontav and his squad, as well as Sorcerer Yurfalk. And then in a moment there was no time to
speak, no wondering what the Helbrute was firing at, or what those other sounds
of shots going off were aimed towards or where they even came from. Around the corner of that industrial complex
with the burning skimmer, the enemy suddenly rushed past and they were in a
fatal melee, every moment that of life and death. Strange blades wielded by horned adversaries
faster even than the Chosen were thrust towards him at every moment, the
swinging and stabbing motions barely fended off by Nyrtus' parries and
instinctive defense.
Who knows how long
he stood there, watching his remaining Chosen fall even by his side, unable to
help them in his own struggle for survival.
He barely registered the presence of an Eldar commander - an Archon he
thought distantly - matching Lord Bontav strike for strike, or the swift
flashing of Sorcerer Yurfalk wielding his force weapon with deadly skill. Out of nowhere a blade blossomed out of his
stomach, and suddenly he was falling off of the klaive, hardly breathing as he
slumped against the nearby wall.
Given his moment of
respite, even if he wasn't likely to survive it, he was able to tune out the
clash of power sword on klaive, the agonized cries of these horned warriors cut
down by the Chaos Chosen who were diced by others in turn. Nyrtus fought the rising fog in his mind,
unwilling to slip away as Lord Bontav fought against the shimmering Archon by
himself, fighting against a shimmering shield and simultaneously turning aside
the deadly weapon the Eldar wielded. One
by one the Chosen fell, their armor unable to hold off the unknown blades,
until only the Sorcerer remained, defiantly holding off all the remaining
warriors single-handedly. With flowing
movements, almost invisible to Nyrtus' blurring vision he forced back the
Eldar, while still the Lord fought against the strangely invincible
Archon. But then in one moment it was
over, and Lord Bontav slid his power sword into some part of the glowing field
and gutted the Eldar leader, and let him fall to the ground already dead.
The two commanders
then stood back to back as the strange warriors gave them a small bubble of
space, appreciating how deadly the two were.
Nyrtus could do nothing but try and hold his innards together. He felt more than saw the bikes rumbling
closer, and they careened into his vision past the horn helmeted xenos and
zoomed further on. He could see them
being beat upon by hundreds of shots by the enemies, but they would not fall as
they seemed to fly towards the Eldar huddled around that artifact Nyrtus had
already forgotten about. Round after
round they fired, and even as more Eldar poured in they simply sent off more
shots and then crashed into them, those 3 bikes seemingly against every Eldar
not fighting the Lord and Sorcerer.
And even that number
had risen. With a howl that shook him to
his bones there were scantily clad xenos leaping about and whirling around the
already exhausted commanders. Nyrtus
recognized them, for he had faced some like these in the past, though that had
been a campaign many years ago. Eldar
wyches, their swiftness a far greater armor than flak and sometimes even
adamantium.
The two commanders
did not give in though, not after all the battles they had fought in the past,
not when their cause was still unfinished.
With renewed vigor the two clashed with the Eldar swarming them,
something like 20 Eldar against the 2 of them.
But they would not give an inch, and the two danced the deadly
choreography with the xenos, stepping in time with the enemy blades and swaying
left, and right, then left again, and slowly but surely they started to cut
them down. The Eldar fell one by
one. Try as they might to kill the Lord
and the Sorcerer though, the Chaos Gods must have smiled on them - not that the
Virtue Forsakers particularly wanted their blessing (but it was never discarded
either) - and the two sliced through the filthy creatures. When the Eldar had realized they were lost,
they tried to turn and run but the two had no mercy, and coldly cut them down
in their efforts to scramble away.
Somehow in the
commotion the Nurgle bikers had slain dozens and dozens of other Eldar, and
several vehicles lay inert clearly of their working - the presence of melta was
clearly missing. But alas they had
fallen as well, twitching in pained agony as even their heightened resilience
was unable to protect them from the deadly poison these cursed Pirates
utilized.
Nyrtus shuddered as
the Helbrute trudged past, noting the almost casual loping the commanders
adopted as they moved on. The battle was
not over yet, but Nyrtus' part clearly had ended. He plummeted into the darkness of
unconsciousness as his wounds overcame him.
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