"Good spread, Korlynth. Reapers, you're looking good. All; we're standing by for the Banshees to secure the final building to move on. Killing the advancing armor is priority until then. Tymus, monitor the Banshee's approach and cover them." "Moon Eclipse shrine reporting," Simius sounded off on comms, "We were predisposed crossing from the forest. Their armor calls for obliteration, tell me where to go." The exarch's hollow voice rung through the radio as they crested over the first building on ethereal jets of energy. "Fuegan's inferno shall clear the tanks! The Spectres can handle the others," Pyrus chimed, demanding the better target. "Know your home, whelp! Irillyth's works take precedence!" The ghostly Spectre defended. "Homes are irrelevant," Selhiat corrected, "Irillyth or Fuegan, Asurmen or Jain-Zar, they're all aspects of Khaine, and all aspects of destruction. And those tanks demand destruction. I do not give a damn about your preferences. Spectres; position yourselves three blocks down here and aim your first volley at the base of the tanks' turret and its right tread. Dragons; delay the charge until the transport crosses it. The Spectres will fire when the melta bomb is fired. Then Dragons will move onto the flank of the vehicles and you both will work in tandem. The Scorpions will assail the idle infantry moving around the armor. Arkash, you port in the moment the melta bomb goes off and help clear the infantry. No-one get too near to the tanks as secondary explosions will be close by." "Is that understood?" Sel waited for that to clear and idly wondered, ok, I've got Simius, now where's Siel?
"Arkash, you port in the moment the melta bomb goes off and help clear the infantry. No-one get too near to the tanks as secondary explosions will be close by." ''Understood. We are still in pursuit, closing in on your location fast,'' Arkash reported, peering out of a second floor window at the Imperial Guard passing in the street below. ''When their transport vehicle is destroyed, that is our cue. I want none standing to fire back at our brethren as they lay fire down upon the vehicle.''
It hung upon the ether, the foul corrupting winds of chaos. Siel felt the gnawing presence of an unfamiliar emotion, reluctance. A servant of the dark ones beckoned them forward. The Specters stalked the Host, bleeding over the reeling defenses of the imperial slaves, pausing only for calculated shots. Another ostentatious Commissar torn asunder by the Prisms heavy blast. Despite himself, Siel grinned beneath his helm to see how his blood danced in the glistening fire of his rifle. The Autarch's words echoed in his thoughts, but they were not alone. He felt the crawling presence of warp whispering within his mind, promises of rewards unfathomed, of beauty undreamed. Silence Daemon, my soul is not yours to claim. He concentrated long, feeling the eyes of his brothers boring into him as they held fast amongst the shattering landscape. "Exarch, the Host beckons. What are we to do? Why do we linger here?" Siel stayed silent, lifting himself from the edge of despair. He must push forward, no matter the threat of damnation that lay before him. Without a word, he signaled the rest and pushed on into the city, focusing on the roar of the crude tanks of the Imperium to guide him forward. The guardsmen below scurried the city streets, rushing in desperation to counter the fliud movements of his kin, blind to the Specters as they glided from roof to roof in search of the thundering artillery. Finally, he gazed at the entrenched artillery blindly bludgeoning all before them in their attempts to drive away the advance. Again he paused, a frontal assault would be foolish, but his kin suffered in their absence. He settled for a shallow flank, descending to the surface they advanced in a crouched formation, loose ranks to so as to avoid losing too many to a stray shot. Silently they circled the armored line, careful to not be spotted before the final advance. As they passed the peripheral vision of the artillery spotters Siel signaled the push. As one the Specters took to the sky, soaring over the roaring lines of the enemy. At each opportunity as they passed over the guardsmen the Specters fired into the lines. Siel prided himself as his own rifle scoured the roof of a Russ below, lancing through a imperials skull who had denied to view the barrage from the open hatch. His fire crashing through the open hatch, silencing the main gun. The Specters landed just to the rear of the battle line, immediately pouring fire into the panicking mass. Prism rifles scored easy hits into the exposed rears of the volleying tanks, the blast of their dying husks lighting the sky with brilliant flames. As the tanks fell before the lightning onslaught, half his number drew crackling power blades to silence the crewmen as the others ensured no artillery would continue its duty. The Guardsmen disciplined enough to turn their fire upon the materialized threat of the Specters were cut down first, but the fleeing soldiers were to receive no mercy, as there was no room to leave future threats. Along the line the Specters continued their grim work, unrelenting until the last bastion lay in ashes.
The armoured vehicles rumbled down the thin avenue, pouring their putrid, black exhaust into the clean air of the maiden world. Selhiat watched the front tank carefully. It approached their ambush site without a clue of the ambushers. The Guardsmen walked down the street beside and behind it brazenly. Had they not heard of who they were fighting? Sel was surprised by their gall. "Hold," he assured on comm. The tank pressed over the weak street, tearing asphalt as it moved along. It stopped early. It was unclear where it was relative to the charge from Sel's angle, but the tank was somewhere near the bomb. The tank commander popped out of the hatch and looked to his high left. "Hold." A guardsmen jumped onto the tank and pointed high left directing the commander to the second floor where the Dark Reapers lay. "Reapers, you've been spotted. Go to ground." Then the commander stood and stared intently at the second floor. And the turret began to traverse. "Dragons! Spectres! Change plan! Fire now!" The melta charge detonated near the rear of the tank. The engine block at the rear of the vehicle quickly slagged though it was difficult to tell how effectively the thick armor had been penetrated. Almost simultaneously, the Spectres' Prism rifles fired at their designated marks. Some hit directly, others seemed to be ever slightly off. The front right tread had been torn, and the exarch had focused the turret, so his damage prevented the turret from continuing its traverse. In spite of this, the commander ducked in his turret and the behemoth tank fired its main gun. The shock of the cannon blasted all dust from the ground and rung the ears of all nearby, while the building the Reapers were in was glanced by the off aim of the tanks' damaged turret. The shell passed through the building's corner in between the second and first floors and detonated in the next building behind them. It tore chunks from the wall and caused a corner of the second floor to collapse, though the building and its occupants were still intact. All within this first second after the melta charge had fired, the Scorpions and Spiders leapt after their prey as the Dragons rushed in to finish the tank and destroy the transport before their guns could retaliate.
Maiev led her shrine to the next building. She chose a new strategy and simply charged in, her screams terrifying those within the building. Those who tried to fire upon the incoming Banshee were shot down by the Pathfinders. The rest of her shrine followed en suite. Maiev leapt into the building cutting through a Guardsman with her Triskeles. Her banshees followed quickly springing upon the Guardsman. Many fell in an instance but not enough. One of the Guardsman turned in time to fire upon Haeneth. The projectile from the lasgun caught her in the side causing Haeneth to recoil and drop her blade. Her cries invigorated Maiev. She recognized it instantly, the cry of pain, not one of the wails she was accustomed to. Maiev turned to the offending Guardsman. He heard her coming and turned to Maiev. She pushed his lasgun away with her Triskele and unleashed her rage upon him. A vicious array of slashes across his chest. She then disemboweled him with her blades and decapitated him. Maiev then rushed to Haeneth. "Sisters secure this building, I want no more injuries!" She shouted. She then contacted the Selhiat. "This is Exarch Maiev. We've got one wounded! The building is in the process of being cleared!" Maiev shouted over the device. "I am... fine Exarch. There is... no need." She pleaded. "We need to get this taken care of, lest you may not be." Maiev replied. OOC: Just because I found it odd no one had taken the slightest of wounds yet.
The human canon fired, their shot ringing out through the derelict building, trying its hardest to deafen the Warp Spiders. ''Spiders, cover fire,'' Arkash ordered, smashing away the frame of a door-its glass having abandoned it when the tank fired-which led to the balcony outside, overlooking the Guardsmen. It made for a fine firing position and, whilst ducked behind the rockcrete wall which lined the edge, it made for decent cover too. The five Warp Spiders, their presence previously a fact the enemy were ignorant of, made themselves known to the Mon-keigh. Razor sharp death rained down upon the unsuspecting Guard, as their Death Spinners fired. The humans ducked out of the street, trying to take cover where they could find it. ''Is that tank destroyed, Elirian?'' Arkash asked as the group looked out over the Guard, unable to see for himself through the thickness of the smoke. Elirian was closer to the tank than he was, though, perhaps he had a clearer view. ''Negative, Exarch,'' the Spider reported, his voice laiden with obvious disappointment. ''Exarch, the transport looks to have taken a liking to us,'' Hwaith yelled, ducking as the Chimera's shots peppered at the rockcrete they were hidden behind. Chunks of hard stone were flinging away as the transport chipped away at their position. Arkash's ears pricked up, he could hear movement on the floor below, footsteps against the hard floor. The humans were many things, but quiet movement certainly wasn't one attribute they enjoyed. ''Spiders, we move, the Guard are in this building with us,'' Arkash said. ''Across the street, we keep their aim moving as they try to stay with us, and buy our brethren time to close in.'' The Guardsmen reached the second floor of the building, their lasguns raised and their minds eager for the kill. They found no Eldar here, just a rug of debris from where the Chimera had fired at the rockcrete.
Fadren and his aspect warriors were unphased by the display of fire power. Ereth had nearly been pulped in the blast but his heavier armor saw him through it and he was firing only half a second later than his Exarch and the streets were once more filled with their heavy fire, Fadren sending a hail of explosive shells into the side of the tank then a single anti personnel round through the hole created to tear apart the tanks crew. "Maiev has cleared the next building! Ereth, Banin, Draklith forward! " Fadren took aim at the transport with the multi-laser harassing the Spiders and ripped it apart it's weapon turret in a flurry of heavy weapons fire, guiding his shots next to those guardsmen exiting the building as they tried to track down the slippery warriors. With Reapers entrenched on both sides of the street they were able to open fire on whatever targets demanded their attention. " Norten get across and check the road beyond the next building, make sure nothing is approaching! " Both warriors hurled themselves from their positions atop the crumbling floor, it collapsed soon after their departure and all five Reapers were now stationed in the most recently cleared building. The ambush was proving effective and for the first time since the assault began he could hear short pauses between his pupils fire, targets making themselves sparse. "Autarch how close to the entrance now? This lull won't last forever."
The Seer Council moved swiftly through the ravaged streets. They darted from one ruined building to the next. From time to time, the passed a patrol of guardsmen, but they never saw the Eldar as they passed. Ilidarian's shroud masked their forms from their mortal eyes. However, from time to time, so of the humans drew too close, and Ilidarian had to distract their minds with subtle manipulations. An unheard order over the vox here. The sounds of Xenos coming from behind there. It was all to easy. Though their progress was swift and the wake of the Warhost easy to trace, they were still falling behind. They had to employ far more silent methods then the others. Ilidarian refused to engage any of the humans, no matter how easy the kills could be. They could afford no distractions and to alert the Imperials to their presence, so far behind the raging battle in the streets, would be their death. Too many patrols wandered this area, attempting some form of encirclement. They wasted their efforts, however, as the Autarch maintained to brisk a pace to allow the Mon'Keigh to catch them unawares. Still, even with obvious success so far, the linger presence of Chaos was growing ever more obvious. A far grander design was guiding the events here. The hands of the Dark Gods were evidently in play. The Lord of Skulls had set his mind to sate his never ending thirst on this world. He supped well on these witless humans, but he would be denied the Eldar vintage he so craved. A familiar ripple through the skein drew his attention. Pain. Pain echoed around him. One of their number had been injured. Not mortally, but a blow all the same. It was Haeneth, one of Maiev's Banshee sisters. Her pain was shared by all of them. Even those who held the warriors of the Foreboding Doom in contempt. Such was the gift of the Eldar. A blessing and a curse in equal measure. Though the many centuries had hardened their hearts against loss, no Eldar could ignore the pain of another. Ilidarian sighed deeply, as they paused a moment in a gutted out administrative building of some kind. The Council was roughly five hundred meters from the main body of the Warhost. The sounds of battle were close now. The all too familiar sounds of elegant Eldar artifice, all but drowned out by the more numerous cacophony of crude Imperial weapons. It was so unfamiliar to him. He only vaguely recalled the last time he had taken to the field in the Craftworld's defense. He usually preferred to let others see his visions enacted into reality, while safely contemplating the endless webs of fate in his chambers. It was no wonder he garnered so little respect from the others. After all, who was he to order them to a course of action, no matter how dire, when he was not sharing in the danger himself? It was all to easy to send others to die, when you did not have to share in their hardship. How many missions of dire import would have gone differently, had he been present to see them through? Some, perhaps, but the outcome of many would have been the same, regardless. The only difference would have been his own life counted among the lost. Instead, the Craftworld had been steered safely away from danger all these centuries, thanks to his guidance. Was that acceptable, though? Were the lives of so many of their kin worth his own? What was the value of one Farseer's life, against that of another? Ilidarian pushed such contemplations aside, for he had no time for such a morbid train of thought. His kin that yet lived needed him now. Those that had departed would have time enough to stand in judgement of him, when it was his own turn to lay down his life. For now, he was needed here. On this world, for this mission. Nothing else was of import. 'Farseer, we must move soon. The Warhost is pressing on to the objective, an we must not fall behind' Paramev warned, as he regarded the Farseer. He had noticed Ilidarian drifting off into his own mind. The Farseer's concentration was slipping and the shroud was beginning to dissipate along with it. He could not let Ilidarian gaze inwards, while a war raged around them. His focus was needed in the present, not in the past or future. At least for the moment. 'You are right. We move to join the others. We must make our way through the square, into the adjoining buildings in the next district. The others cannot afford to wait for us. We must make haste' Ilidarian agreed, as he reigned in his wandering thoughts, focusing on his shroud once more. Silent as the shadows, they pressed on. Heading towards the sounds of chaotic battle.
Hearing the toll on the radio, "Avengers, move in to cover the Banshees!" "Dragons, finish the beast already!" Sel demanded. With the Scorpions and Spiders drawing fire, the Fire Dragons leapt from their cover and raced after the tank. Diving for the closest cover - a disabled human ground car - the Dragons focused their fusion guns at a single spot behind the right sponson of the tank. The tank attempted to wheel about, but it merely grinded on its torn tread as the engine blasted its now superheated block to shreds. Coming in from the rear, Pyrus directed his firepike at the center of their fire, penetrating and setting off a chain of internal detonations. They took cover as the tank commander, now on fire, popped from his turret screaming and jumped from the top of the Leman Russ in a crumpled mess. The charges on the inside of the tank erupted in a flurry of flame and sparks, blasting the turret free and detonating the next shell in the breach. As advised, the Scorpions were busy well behind the destruction, free of the blast. The Fire Dragons ran laterally, staying low on the sidewalk. Identifying danger, the Chimera began to reverse. Before it could pull back too far, the longer ranged firepike of the Exarch sliced the right tread free. A colossal beam of energy tore through the turret of the Chimera, removing it clean from its bearing. The Spectres clearly did not want to be left out of this. Stopping behind a row of barriers, the Fire Dragons stayed clear of the Guardsmen that Korlynth had claimed, and repeated their same tactic. A circle of fusion guns, with the Pyrus' pike punching into the Chimera. The ambush had still been too late, as the troops on board the chimera had already escaped, but Pyrus was confident that Arkash would have his fill of them. Their task completed, Pyrus commanded his Fire Dragons fall back through the building behind them towards the building housing the catacombs. "Fadren, Simius, your task is done, move to meet the Banshees and lay down a defensive perimeter. Pathfinders, go high and watch for approaching troops. Ilidarian, we need you at the final building to clear the way to the catacombs. The way is clear. Korlynth and Arkash, clear out those mon-keigh and then regroup with us." "Where is Siel!? Does anyone have eyes on our second Spectre team!?" "Autarch, I did briefly see their transponder approaching the enemy artillery batteries," Pyrus answered. "Siel! Respond!" Selhiat tried his long-command band, hoping the exarch still had his ears on, "We're about to reach the catacombs, don't make me leave you!"
"Acknowledged Autarch, the Imperial Artillery is ashes, we're enroute to the catacombs." The Specters departed from the ruins of the position, moving with haste to the Host's location.
