The Mymearan Crimson Hunter removed the restrain devices as soon as the Warp Spider appeared. He grabbed the Shuriken Pistol which was made for cases like this on a holster at the side of the seat. The man grabbed it and climbed out with one jump. "Aid the others."

He ordered the Warp Spider without any sign of thanks, except a nod of acknowledgment. The fire of the Sororitas did nothing to him, only his craft as luckily he was on the other side, although meeting an old foe. The Imperial Pilot.

Seeing that his concerns regards him were confirmed on his uniform. Indeed he was no ordinary pilot but one of the higher ranked officers. Without hesitation the Shuriken Pistol came to live via psychic command, aimed for the hand that held the primitive trigger of the Mon'keigh weapon.

Both thought they were the hunter and the other their prey. But they were both wrong. The Eldar and the Human were both hunters alike. One a fury, the other a crimson. Hunting in the void was their objectives on each mission they embarked on, now it would depend on the skills they had beyond their piloting.

For a true hunter knows not just how to hunt in the own areas, but also beyond.

<Architect>

The Avenger's grenade transformed the pair of Sororitas into a pile of gore and lost limbs, while the warlock's shock threw in complete disarray the six surviving members of the squadron. This gave way to a perfect opportunity for a sweeping advance from the Avengers.

<Fury pilot>

The man had raised his pistol in unison with the Crimson Hunter, pulling the trigger. Both men were impeccable in their aim, but it was futile to compete against a warrior who had trained hundreds of years more than the humans can even live.
The gun was shot from the Fury pilot's hand and the las shot hit the Mymearan straight on the gut, penetrating.

The Crimson hunter bit his lips to ignore the pain, walking up to the human with the weapon raised, the other hand on his wound. "Die. Mon'keigh." Is all he said, using the tongue of Eldar, the Shuriken Pistol aimed on the chest of the human, shooting a salvo right into the center, wanting to bring him to the edge of death... But not beyond, not yet.

The Hunter had to claim ultimate victory. And that would be to make the other hunter realize he indeed became the prey.

<Redren>
Flitting to and fro the Swooping Hawk analyzed their enemies defenses with contempt. How would they of not been prepared for a Hangar Insertion? They had bodies to spare in every other scenario why weren't there a hundred already on guard here when the Mon'keigh were always so very willing to expend several Craftworld's worth of lives to conquer a planet? Snorting as he sighted down his Las-blaster the Saim-Hanny dared closer to their foe before deciding it wasn't worth using a grenade from his pack.

"Blow them aside brothers and sisters! Stall here and they'll simply drown us in the bodies of their 'warriors'! " If they could be called such, he had dueled with the odd human force many times in his life and walked away less than impressed each time. As his fire raked their position he found himself offering begrudging respect to these 'Soroitas' though, they appeared more resilient than the Imperial's he had faced before and were notably less cowardly.

"Up here darlings!" A mocking laugh followed as his ploy seemed to of worked, one of the Celestian's finding her face perfectly in line with a blast from his weapon that boiled flesh away before making full contact and throwing her back with a black rimmed crater where her face had been. Swinging his wings about their ball joints swiveled and he glided away from return fire, a bolter shot clipping his enlarged profile but doing nothing more than insult he and his wings previously impeccable coloration.

Turning his attention toward their Spider and Crimson Hunter Redren swept over their position to provide covering fire and make a tantalizing target of himself to help cover his allies below.

<Fury pilot>

The human's knees did not give as the pilot held his footing, staring still defiant at the Eldar, spitting blood.

The Spider had seen that the Crimson Hunter was alive and fit for battle, so she needed no further urging to get back to the fight. In any case, in the back of her mind she could recall the duels of honour among the many proud Biel-tan pilots, and she knew better than to interfere with one such moment. She focussed her attention on the incoming attackers, readying a twin spinner shot, but as soon as she could bring her targeting array to bear there was a sudden explosion of flame, and only gory fragments remained.

Kara recalculated and jumped again, landing near the edge of the fray to take bites from around the edges,m cautious not to be caught in the whirlwind force of the Warlock nor the storm of spinning shuriken that rained down like flowers from Hell.


[OOC Crimson Hunter vs Red Baron!]

<Architect>

The five remaining humans in the Adeptas Sororitas' tactical squad regrouped, forming around the two remaining warriors of the heavy weapons team - who had reached a good enough positioning to shoot at the host's Wave Serpent. Their weapons opened fire, but the crafty transport's pilot dodged as if the craft was her own body. The shuriken catapults in her Serpent then aligned to fire at the heavy weapons team - pinning them down.

One could probably say that when the Avengers rose up from their cover as one, it looked like a oncoming tidal wave of blue monsters. Sporting technology far superior to any in the galaxy. Firing as one. Fighting as one.

So was Grath amongst his comrades, firing into the fray which the Lock was...for lack of a better word, locked into. Taking great care to not risk hitting his ally. Focusing fire on the final few Sororitas atop the raised pathway. Graths eyes though spotted the bird-like form of the Swooping Hawk as it devastated one of the armored women-warriors, almost with a savage glee it seemed-before swooping back off to support the downed pilot and Spider.

Languid, slow and graceful was his approach as he kept a steady amount of shot flying down range-leaving a small trail of blood from his calf, but it was slowly closing and the bleeding subsiding with it.

The Crimson Hunter smiled upon the enemy, behind his helmet. He was truly a warrior, but still just a Mon'keigh. The Mymearan shot a salvo between the legs of the human, knowing that their reproduction organs are a weak spot of such primitive beings.

Perhaps even a gift was granted to this Mon'keigh as She Who Thirsts would be no longer interested in this being. And if there was one thing a Mymearan was good at... Then it was destroying Mon'keigh of their so-called Imperium!

Pah! There was only one true empire and that was the Eldar Empire that has reigned for eons before the Mon'keigh knew how to communicate! The glories of the past overshadowed anything their puny so-called Imperium. Their 'God' Emperor was nothing to the Eldar Gods, for they were true gods!

It made the Hunter sick to even think about that these creatures attempted to reign over a Galaxy that was never theirs to begin with. They are nothing but a wrong creation. The only option for them was to be extincted. Like anything else that would oppose the Eldar! What else could there be done?

Perfection reincarnate in all possible ways. Physiology, Mentality and Finesse were ultimate in an every Eldar, where the Humans are nothing but slightly smarter Orks with another skin color! Brute, led by their desires, naive, stupid and plain out ugly.

<Desek>
The Warlock watched as their foes retreated from their advance to form up a new position only to walk right into the Path of that which they sought to destroy. A touch of guilt was felt as he bore down on them, they were proving rather brave to stare such a force down with so few numbers. Each warrior here had probably walked their path for several of these human's life times but yet they were stubborn enough to fight on. A shame it wouldn't amount to much, but not so great as the shame or sorrow of losing one of their own.

With a quiet twitch of his lips he thanked the first women he came down upon, having sprung off a wall to get make himself airborne, striking from an angle that would give them as little reaction time as possible. His thanks was met by a sneer and primitive curse until the Heavy Weapons sister was silenced by his Witch Blade parting her spine with a downward stab through the back of her neck.

Landing into a crouch he broke off with a spring of his legs like a Gyrinx making off with startled prey, blood flying from his blade as he made for cover against the return fire; his role in their death was done, it was up to the others now and he allowed his mental channeling to end, unnatural grace ebbing away to the norm.