Larese stumbled to his feet using his spear as a support. Already the spirit stones on his belt were feeding him psychic energy, at this rate he would be combat ready again in a 4-5 hours, if he poured all of his energy into healing. He explored the room a bit before checking who these eldar were, assuming they were even eldar.

The Room was similar to the Spiritseer council room. Covered in dust and such, it took him quite a while to see that an Eldar in robes were sitting in a chair at the end of the room. Probably dead from starvation, dehydration and age. The body had turned into a skeleton.

The runes on the clothes were of Mymeara, only the waystone seemed to be unaffected by time nor dust. It shined and was completely untouched... Larese could feel an uncanny sensation coming from it. "Flee." He heard once again in his mind.

''Exarch,'' Sithian muttered as Arkash came across him. Ten dead men lay at his feet, and yet the warrior wasn't stood victorious. Arkash knelt beside him, noting the cracked armour, his blood patterning the teal of the chest plate.

''Exarch,'' he repeated with a dulled sigh. ''I am sorry.''

Arkash's fist tightened around the grip of his power blade. How dare a lowly Guardsman strike down one of his own. To be gunned down, by humans no less, was hardly a fitting end to his eyes.

Two his left a trio of Guardsmen staggered in to view. Their faces, dirtied from the battle, dropped as they saw the Exarch turn toward them, with so many of their own dead by his feet; the assumption clearly made that it was his handiwork. They hesitated.

Akrash did not.

He lunged forward, skimming through the warp to appear beside them, their eyes unable to follow him as he moved in an instant. His Death Spinners struck the first down. Guard armour offered little protection to a frontal assault, but from the back they offered almost nothing. His powerblade pierced the kidneys of another, the third felled by another volley of Spinner fire.

Arkash returned to Sithian, as the other Spiders found their way back to him.

''Exarch, is he...'' Hwaith asked, looking to the fallen warrior.

There was a moment of silence between the soldiers. They knew what had happened, there was no need to say it. The Exarch stood fully upright again, collecting the spirit stone of the slain warrior.

''We must regroup,'' Arkash said, his eyes turned away from his fallen soldier. ''Back to the Autuarch's position.''

The Seer council took shelter at the entrance of a narrow alley, it opened into the square, which was choked with the burning wrecks of vehicles and the corpses of guardsmen. The exquisite handy work of the children of Mymeara. Even now, as clouds of black smoke billowed from the still burning wrecks, the ominous rumble of more treads converged upon them. More of the inferior Mon'Keigh vehicles. What they lacked in sophistication, they more then made up for in numbers.

It was not the approaching tanks that gave them pause, but the sickening surge of warp energies that had sundered the veil between the materium and the aether. The foul magics of the Blood God had run their course. It would not be long before the brazen children of Khorne were drawn to this world. They were running out of time.

'We must move with all the haste that can be mustered' Ilidarian warned, his thoughts awash with concern. 'We cannot be caught in the open, now that the enemy has played their hand. We have lost one of our own already. That is one soul too many as it stands. No more. We can ill afford it.'

'Farseer, I sense the approach of aircraft' Paramev exclaimed, from his position at the mouth of the alley.

'Yes, their intentions are obvious. They wish to kill us, along with the guardsmen being sent to their deaths. Only such a large sacrifice will lure the daemons here. We move, now!' Ilidarian commanded, as he urged the others forward with his mind.

They moved as fast as their legs could carry them. Ilidarian leading them, with Paramev and Yulieth a few paces behind. Even with the inherent fleetness of their race, they would not be able to cross the square in time to avoid the devastation of the impeding strafing run. They would be caught in the open, there would be no avoiding it. Had they stayed in the alley, the Imperial's would have simply surrounded them and hunted them down. Better to die on ones own terms, then by their enemies.

Ilidarian's mind raced as he ran, trying to fathom a way to deny the fate of this outcome. All of their lives would end. The blast would consume the whole district, taking the entirety of the Warhost along with it. There must be a way. There had to be, but Ilidarian could not divine a method that did not end in death.

++There is one way, Farseer++ came the familiar thoughts of Paramev, as he pulled away from them, heading down the square, rather then across is, as they were. As he did so, the shroud lifted from him, revealing him to the enemy. Several explosions followed, as the leading Imperial tanks fought to find the range on the lone Eldar.

++What are you doing, Paramev? The path you tread ends only in tragedy. You see it as well as I have++ Ilidarian warned, but he knew it was wasted effort.

++Yes, but you have always taught that the whole is greater then the sum of it's parts. Our mission is to great to allow the Mon'Keigh to jeopardize it++ was Paramev's simple reply. There was no fear, only a hardened focus behind his thoughts.

++Paramev, I forbid this. Return to us at once++ Ilidarian commanded, forcing his will upon his protege. It did not do any good, for Paramev had expected him to do as such. The Warlock brushed off his efforts, his focus too strong to be broken so easily.

++Brother no!++ came Yulieth's brazen psychic shirek, but even her pain would not deter Paramev.

++I am sorry sister. Live on, for both of us++ Paramev comforted. ++Ilidarian, know that I have always held you in the highest esteem, but I have made my choice. My path is my own to tread and I lay down my life gladly for the Craftworld. May you walk always in shadow++ came his last words.

The thunder of the enemy tanks, and the wail of the Valkyrie engines above, drown out Yulieth's screams. The first of the missiles were loosed upon the rear of the Imperial troops, as they flooded into the square as ordered, intent on killing Xenos. They died in their hundreds, completely oblivious to their fates. The detonations flowed forwards, in a tidal wave of fire and screams of agony. Those on foot lived only long enough to feel the intense heat sear their flesh, before they were incinerated. Those who were huddling inside of transports or tanks, only staffed off their doom by few seconds. They died in much slower agony, as they were boiled alive inside their own vehicles. They suffered the briefest torment, as they watched in horror, as the flesh of their fellows melted off their bones like wax, before their own eyes burst.

Their unfortunate souls were quickly devoured by the hunger entities of the warp. Their cries to their God Emperor going unheeded and unanswered.

As the blast rippled down the plaza, it veered off to the right, as the missiles chased after the xeno life signs on their auspex. They disappeared promptly, as the blast wave over ran them. The pilots reported back the success of their strike run, then banked right, heading back towards the space port to refuel and rearm.

~~~

On street level, as the fire threatened to overwhelm them, Ilidarian had to physically drag Yulieth along, as she fought his grasp and tried to chase after her brother.

'Forgive me, Yulieth, but he is gone. You must accept it. He is sacrificing himself, so that we all might live' Ilidarian growled, as he fought to keep them moving, while she twisted and squirmed, trying to free herself. He could feel the intense heat following them, so he made a last ditch effort to save them.

Yanking hard on her arm, he managed to offset her balance, allowing him to get his arm around her waist. As he latched onto her with his left arm, he swung his staff around with his right and focused a tremendous wave of psychic energy behind him, which hurtled them forwards like a projectile, aimed at the front facade of the building that the others had occupied.

They hammered through the broken glass windows on the main level, blasting apart the heavy frame and throwing the squad of Dire Avengers that had been guarding it onto their backs, their cries of surprise drowned out by the roaring flames that trailed behind the two seers.

The pair slammed into the rockrete floor and tumbled together for several feet, finally coming to rest with Ilidarian on top. He shielded Yulieth with his body, as the intense flames flashed over them. Thankfully, their impromptu arrival had made the others go to ground, fearing it had been an tank shell that had just hammer through the windows. Their fear had saved their lives, as the flames washed over their heads by scants inches.

With nothing for the flames to consume, their own force snuffed them out. Leaving the lower level of the building choked with smoke and residual heat. Yulieth wasted no time in pushing the singed Farseer off of her, and racing towards to door. She was intercepted by a tall figure, which prevented her from proceeding foolishly back into the hellish inferno that the plaza had become.

Selhiat held onto her as tightly as he could. Not wanting to see another of his Warhost rush headlong to their death, even as Yulieth's grief overwhelmed his senses.

'I'm sorry, Yulieth, he's gone. Paramev is gone' He whispered quietly, as a silent tear rolled down his face.

Mon'keigh be damned, why have we lost two?! This is preposterous, why are we stuck?! Selhiat fumed at the loss of his two kin, and the broadcasted grief of the seers was not making his task easier.

"Pull back! We're at the catacombs with the Seers, and we are going underground before any further losses are had! This is already unacceptable! We cannot stay here!"

"Ilidarian, move underground quickly. Banshees and Avengers, stay with him! Siel, Simius, Fadren, pathfinders; suppress all approaches to this building! Korlynth, guard the underground entrance and stop any stragglers that make it inside! Simius, Arkash; regroup, we cannot wait for you or they will converge on us!"

"Pyrus. I have a task for you. You still have most of your melta charges, yes?"

"Affirmative Autarch, my scorpions and I shall teach any Mon'keigh who attempt to follow to fear our stings." Under cover of the other's suppressive fire, Korlynth leads his squad in a fighting retreat to the catacomb entrance. Once in place the scorpions take concealed positions watching the opening.

(That bastard Selhiat, leaving us to guard the exit. That damn Banshee' s gonna get all the glory.)

One of the Dire Avengers moved to assist Ilidarian, as he hauled himself to his feat. That had been the most brash action he had ever taken in all of his millennia of life. At that moment, he felt ever single one of his many years of life. It was a most unpleasant sensation. He had indeed grown soft over the centuries.

With the Dire Avenger's aid, he righted himself, using his staff for support, while he caught his breath and familiarized himself with his surroundings. They were indeed near the entrance to the catacombs. He could feel the faint whisper of psycho-reactive wraithbone. It was distant, of course, but it would allow him to lead the others to their objective. It would be a long journey. Several days march at least, and that was if they encountered no obstacle. He doubted the forces of Chaos would allow them such luxuries

That was of course, unless they made pursuit impossible. At least for a time.

'Autarch' he managed to breath at last, as he pushed the intense emotions of Yulieth's grief aside. 'If I am to lead us to the entrance of the Catacombs, then we must be sure that the way behind us is barred. Once our forces are safely below the surface, this entire structure must be leveled to deny the Arch-Enemy the chance to pursue us'

He strode warily towards foreboding stairwell that descended into the shadowy depths of the city. It was wide enough for ten Mon'Keigh to stride shoulder to shoulder and fashioned of the same crumbling rockcrete that the entire city seemed to be fashioned from. Humans and their inelegant architecture. To the right of the stairwell, were a pair of large service lifts, able to hold twenty men apiece. Though Ilidarian was loath to trust human artifice, it would be much faster then taking the stairwell.

He reluctantly motioned for the Banshees and Dire Avengers to make use of the lifts. The Banshees filled one, while Ilidarian occupied the other with the Dire Avengers. He could feel the glare that the Exarch Maiev was giving him, and he had no desire to suffer her insolence for the duration of the descent. He sensed that the lifts would only take them down a few kilometers at best. The remainer of the journey would have to be taken on foot.

What awaited them there, he could not say, for all manner of dangers could inhabit the depths of a human city. Mutants, alien beasts, primitive bands of savage humans and even worse things besides. Alas, they had no choice. He was confident in their ability to deal with any local fauna, at least, for it was the enemies above that gave him pause.

The pulsing throb of warp energies still nauseated him, as he felt the savage hunger of Khorne tear at the thinning of the veil. It would not be long now, before it was thin enough for the Daemons to pour forth. Then, the hapless mortals would know terror the likes of which they had never seen. Khorne would spare no one. Imperial and Traitor alike would be offered up to the Lord of Skulls. It would be mindless and horrific. He prayed that Larese would be safe, hidden away in the ruins. He took heart that the Spiritseer would know when to seek the safety of the Webway, should the ruins come under threat. He hoped more so that he had been successful in evacuating the souls from the Infinity Circuit buried beneath the ruins. Too long had their forgotten kin been left to the ravages of time. They deserved the tranquility of a restless afterlife, within the safety of the Craftworld.

The rumble of the lift activating, roused his mind from his thoughts. His last train of thought left only a nagging guilt, one that would haunt him for the rest of his days.

Their would be now tranquil rest for Paramev. His soulstone was likely shattered in the blast of the Imperial airstrike. His soul was lost to them now. Either devoured by a daemon, or thrice cursed Slannesh. He prayed that was not the case. Instead, he choose to believe that Paramev now wandered the warp as a lost soul, doomed to follow it's currents and eddies for eternity. A preferable fate, then oblivion.

Either way, one thing was certain. Yulieth would hold him responsible. He could understand that. Their bond had been strong. The two nearly inseparable. The fact that Paramev had subscribed to Ilidarian's teachings, while she had been closer to Larese, had locked the two in an endless rivalry. Despite their differences though, they had cared deeply for one another. As all siblings do.

He sighed deeply. She was right to loath him. Paramev's death was as much his own fault, as Paramev's. After all, he had worked tirelessly to impart his teachings unto the impressionable Warlock. He had been his greatest pupil, and would have been a worthy successor, when the time finally came for Ilidarian to join the other Farseers in the Infinity Circuit.

It would have been a worthy elevation, for so skilled a Warlock. One Ilidarian would have been proud of. Alas, his loss would burden Ilidarian until his final days. Such as every soul who had been lost, in the fulfillment of his prophecies. No matter, when the day finally came, and he stood before his departed kin in judgement, he would face their wrath with an unburdened heart, as he had only ever acted in the best interests of the Craftworld.

Just as he did now. Just as he always would.

"We hold nine of our bombs," Pyrus replied.

"Ten paces ahead of you. Pyrus, I need one planted to cave in the catacomb entrance and four planted at the critical joints of this building. Weaken the rest with your flame and set the charges to finish the deed. We need this building to fall to stay their pursuit. You have a third of a millicycle. Do it."

The Fire Dragons scattered at his behest, attacking columns and load bearing joints. Masters of destruction, they knew what was and wasn't necessary to keep the structure standing. Two incinerated struts while two planted charges, Pyrus monitored their deeds to assure that the act was committed properly; the Eldar could not survive it falling unintentionally.

"Simius and Arkash; you have less than a millicycle before we leave. Their air support threatens us, but their armor is slowed by the rubble and barriers of the streets. Fadren and Siel; clip their wings."

The Imperial March continued on where the Eldar walked. The few remaining forces fought furios, mainly containing of the heretic survivors, therefor the war cries have changed from "FOR THE GOD EMPEROR" into "BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!" and whoever startled was sacrificed to Khorne.

Sentinels and Chimeras were charging after the Eldar, shooting with Lasers and deploying whatever little troops they had left. A few thousand Guardsmen of the experience of PDF were leftover, as almost all forces of the Imperial Regiment that had been stationed here had been loyal into death, but most of them died upon the Artillery Strike on the Main Plaza.

"Soon our salvation comes... The true Angels of Death.... Not the Adeptus Astartes of the God-Emperor but the agents of the Warp!" A voice announced over the speaker system across the city.

The Reapers had taken to the streets in front of the building to do their duty, Fadren taking a road of his own while two of his pupils each took to another road. Debris and burned out tanks made excellent cover for both sides but the Aspect Warriors advanced weaponry made short work of any who approached. A hellhound came forward trying to carve a path into the building with jets of flame but Fadren's Tempest Launcher saw it's fuel tanks detonate and turn the area around it into a roaring inferno, the chemical compound in the oil left the flames to linger and essentially cut that road off to the Guardsmen.

"The clouds shall weep tears of Mon'keigh blood Autarch. " Fadren sprinted into a corner building and climbed to the roof, bracing himself he watched the marauder's approaching in formation and planned his shots, clipping their wings would leave them to crash and he couldn't risk them colliding with the building, he would have to disable them and then blunt the burning hulks approach if they were set on a collision course with the Fire Dragons.

"Banin, Draklith up here swiftly! " The order was punctuated by his weapon firing, shearing the wings off of one plane causing it to roll into the one beside it, a devastating and brilliant explosion flared as their bombs detonated with a second stream of cluster bombs. Burning plates of metal fell from the sky amongst approaching Imperial reinforcements and Fadren couldn't help but feed off their anguish; it was a fine distraction from his own over their fallen. Banin and Draklith braced beside him and aided the duty of pushing approaching air support off course. Fadren crippled the vehicles with blistering weapons fire while his students dealt with the wrecks and pushed them off course away from the entrance building.

"Enemy armor is pushing up Exarch!" Norten reported up to him and he casually assessed the information. "Banin, Draklith the Spectres and I shall handle their air support now. Cover the streets from above, focus on their vehicles, disable their weapons first then destroy them when they are in the perfect position to stem the tide of bodies. Nortehn, Ereth focus your fire on the infantry, your brothers will handle their vehicles. " Much to his surprise the Guardsmen had mustered a competent tactic and grenades were launched up by weapon and by hand onto the roof; the road he had assumed blocked by the burning Hellhound had sheltered gathering forces from view and now they may him pay for his oversight. Seven grenades detonated all over the roof and he simply had to ride out the blast of anti-personnel ordnance. When the smoke cleared all three Reapers targeted were still alive but battered, their heavy armor once again proving a life saver against the foe. Shrapnel was lodged in their armor and some had managed to bypass into their flesh forming light puncture wounds or small lacerations, a nagging pain in his side told him that one such projectile was lodged between two of his ribs.

"Damnedable Mon'keigh!" He tilted his launcher back and arced a burst of cluster fire onto the streets and satisfying screams of pain answered as each one detonated in similar fashion to the grenades, he left them to bleed out and suffer. Banin and Draklith had recovered and their own launchers joined the fray once more. Fadren sprayed launcher fire into the air and detonated the missiles within a Vendetta's weapon pods. "Time's up! Fall back! Ereth, Norten hold the way! Korlynth we are falling back to your position now! " The trio atop the building filed down to the streets below and booked it into defensive positions where all five Reapers now fired on the enemy waiting till the last moment before Pyrus announced that the building was ready to blow. Lowering their weapons each pupil fled into the building, Fadren staying behind and laying waste to nearing Cultist and Imperials till the Spectres were safely within, only then retreating into the catacombs.