The Rhythm of War
The Craftworld of Alaitoc, once one of the mightiest refuges of the First Born drifted silently through the void of space, it's great buttresses, arching spires and silvered skin distorted and dispersed.
To those few that could see through its disguise they would see nothing except for an abandoned world ship, drifting despondently through the void.
Not so within. The razor-sharp focus and will power of the Alatiocans that was legend among the Eldar was being stretched to the limit. They wished to cry out in joy, in song. To dance in joy for their release from She Who Thirsts.
Alas it was not to be, they must stay the course, silent as the night as they approached their pray. All the divinations of the Farseers had led to this moment, bait had been set and so carefully brought to the attention of the Infinite to draw him personally out of his home and away to the other side of the galaxy, far enough away that he would not be able to return immediately.
So too had the Farseer's struggled with the defences of Solemnance, against the pitifulness fortifications of one of the greatest Crypteks to ever live that rendered their fumbling with the skein of fate as worthless the cries of children.
And yet, despite all that they were triumphant. They knew where and how to free them, the last remnant of their ancient allies and they were willing to die to the last in the effort, for on their efforts lay the skein of fate.
All those that remained in the Craftworld gathered together, as Autarch Lisenel the Darkblade stood forth, the last Autarch of the Craftworld and the most skilled to have ever graced its halls. He spoke to them of their duty.
He spoke to them of their honour, of their duty, of their ability. He inspired them and gave them hope even as they knew they were marching towards certain doom and they were.
For they went to Solemnance, the endless gallery of Trazyn the Infinite. His armies were beyond count, organised by some of the greatest minds of the Necrons, with technology and secrets so advanced that it was legendary.
And yet they went anyway, their faith in their purpose assured. With the full power of their psycic abilities restored they began their assault, the rangers teleporting down to the planet below cloaking themselves in shadows.
But, even the legendary abilities of the Star Striders could not protect them for long from the watchful eyes of Solemnance who could monitor their very souls. Soon the halls of the eternal gallery ran red with the blood of the Eldar, as the frozen faces of millions upon millions of kidnapped beings watched on, unchanging and unblinking.
However, these deaths were necessary for they hid the two who were making their way deeper and deeper into the depths of the gallery, their passage hidden by the deaths of their kin.
Arisrith gritted her teeth as she moved silently through the deserted halls, deep deep within the planet's core, hidden behind uncountable layers of traps and puzzles. She was one of the brightest Star Striders of her generation, but she would have been at a loss to move through this labyrinth if not for Lisenel, who's steady hand had guided her through the danger and forwards ever forwards.
She did not know why she had been chosen, only that the prophecy insisted that she was required. And that the Autarch would die. He had accepted that as his fate, but she still felt troubled. That he should die, and accept it so casually felt wrong to her.
Then they stepped through one last gate and she felt something change. It was the weight. The sheer age of this place was overwhelming a cloying suffocating thing that pressed down upon her due to the how ancient this place was, that had sat undisturbed for uncounted millions of years.
"We have arrived." The soft voice of the Autarch recovered her to her senses as she saw and gasped. Alcoves millions of them moving up higher and higher, until she could see no further. She looked left and right and saw the same thing.
"This is the centre of his collection, his maybe even his first I do not know. But our quarry is here, and we must find it." She nodded and followed him as they moved past the countless exhibits moving deeper and deeper into this place until finally he pointed.
An alcove, but unlike the rest sealed off from the others, necrontyr runes emblazoned in glowing green across the sealed door. She could read them, they warned of danger and terrible punishments for any that attempted to access this vault and she understood that here was what they were searching for. What they would find exactly she did not know, but their time was at hand.
Glancing from side to side she approached tense, terrified at the sound of her own breathing the only sound she could hear in this place of utter stillness and quiet.
But, not threat appeared. Instead they came to the console and she knew what she had to do.
Then they heard the sound. A hideous cracking sound as behind them emerged a form. Black as the endless night and it looked at them with silvered eyes, before it appeared in front of her it's clawed hand about to enter her stomach.
With a dull thud so unlike metal on metal the black blade of the Autarch deflected the hand from crushing her heart, though it dragged a hideous trail of blood and torn flesh in her chest as she gasped and fell back on the control console, the wound the creature had inflicted steaming, shrivelling and dying.
The Autarch stood in front of her sizing up his enemy that merely cocked its head before going on the offensive so fast that he was instantly forced on the defensive, slowly being beaten back.
Arisith turned her attention to the console while her protector fought in the back ground, the training she had been given in the Necrontyr tongue supplemented by her rapidly accelerated course in divination and history to unlock and bypass the securities that the Infinite had woven into his lock.
But not fast enough. She could feel the Autarch weakening, his blade invulnerable, but even his skill was nothing compared to the creature he fought spawned from the mind of Trazyn, which seemed to grow faster and more skilled as he weakened.
Soon he was beaten back and fell to the floor desperately struggling to rise as his flesh shrivelled and decayed as blood poured from gaping tears cut into his body as the creature turned its attention to her.
It walked over, seeming to relish every moment of it, as her fear grew harsher and harsher against her mind threatening to overwhelm her concentration. And then she was through. With the last strength in her arms leaving her she finished the final combination as the silver specks that seemed to be the creature's eyes widened as if in horror.
Its foot was coming down upon her head within moments, but it was still.
Too.
Slow!
A great green arm reached out and grabbed it, thicker and longer than her whole body as the body of the creature was reduced to nothing with a flash of green lightning the roar of a creature long held echoed around her deafening her.
The cell finally opened, and she gasped in instinctive fear. Seven metres tall, with green skin so dark she could almost mistake it for black, clad in armour that sparked with green lightning. Behind it lurked several other massive creatures dressed in similar manners.
Krork.
Her mind instinctively provided her the answer, these were the Krork. The Warmasters of the Old Ones.
Her saviour's eyes jerked down to her and with a small motion the other smaller Krork stepped forwards eyes alert for any sign of danger as it motioned to one of them, dressed in white armour. "Tend to the Aeldari."
As the white armoured one knelt by her saw its hands spark with the green energies of the waagh, which instead of being caustic and harsh were warm and soothing. A stark difference to the Weird Boyz who wielded it in the wider galaxy. At the…Doctor Krork's touched her flesh she immediately felt the difference as her wounds began to close and heal, her desiccated flesh returning slowly to pinkness and health.
"How long?" The largest Krork stood before her, before she stood and bowed though she jerked up as a growl emanated from its throat. "How long Aeldari? How many years have I been gone from the front that your kind have been reduced to such…pitiful weapons and armour?"
Swallowing the fear, she felt in her heart she looked the Krork in the eye. "It has been over 60 million years, my lord." As she said those worlds she could hear sharp intakes of breath from around her as the other Krork understood. Though it was the leader she focused upon as it's fists clenched, the green lightening that surrounded it convulsing and growing brighter.
"Trazyn! That cursed skeleton!" With that it roared. A roar of loss and sorrow. Within an instant it turned to its subordinates. "Free them, we must make haste. This world will burn." With eager nods the others left leaving her alone with the warlord who turned to her.
She couldn't let this happen, they had just freed them after so long. She could not let them perish for some foolish desire for revenge.
"My lord, you mustn't." It stopped and looked at her, a grin sliding onto its tusked visage. "Mustn't you say. It really must have been 60 million years if one of your kind are the ones counselling caution. Very well tell me. Why must I not burn this world to ashes?"
She mustered her courage and spoke. "The War in Heaven is not over. Even though the Star Gods lie shattered the Necrons still live, the Silent King is distracted destroying a threat that threatens the galaxy itself. We need your people, the Warmasters of old to defeat him when he returns so weakened are we. Weakened by our own mistakes, our own foolishness and pride for we have nearly damned the galaxy ourselves."
"I cannot let you fall now. Not after all we have sacrificed…" She choked, for she saw the Autarch's body. A contented smile still glistening on his face.
"
Ahh foolish Aeldari."Its voice like the clashing off two worlds rumbled and shook the ground in front of her. "Did you assume that I would attack this world without a plan?" No that shaking was something else. The march of feet.
"Your kind must have forgotten us for some reason." She shrieked as she was lifted from her feet by a finger and thumb large enough to pulp her body and turned around and what she saw made her eyes expand wide in shock.
Krork. Hundreds of thousands. Millions. Billions of beings that resembled orks marching in lockstep formation, guided by the towering forms of true Krork.
"My Brethren! By now you no doubt know of what has transpired. Our mortal enemy Trazyn, had trapped us within a cage of time. No doubt he though to humiliate us, to make us eternally fail our calling. But, his little joke has backfired." With that he stamped, the shock wave ringing across the floor setting a rhythm for the rest to follow, stamping along in time.
"Because we. Are. The. Krork. We are those that bring slaughter upon our foes. We are the ones that were forged in war, moulded by conflict and tempered by duty. We are the Masters of War."
The stamps were growing louder and louder as a green haze filled the room, lightning striking again and again only to be channelled to the tall Krorks bearing staves emblazoned with sigles of power.
"We are the Krork, we are Slaughter, we are…"
It was like she was waiting for the approach of a thunder storm; the sudden silence was deafening. In that instance she knew what she was. An insect looking upon the mightiest predators to ever grace the galaxy.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR"
From uncountable throats came the roar as, the sheer power in that one word echoed out denting the living metal walls of the labyrinth of Trazyn as she was tossed across the shoulder of the Marshall as he led the War of the Krork into the Battle once more.
Trazyn the Infinite knew something was wrong. He had linked himself to the cell of his most prized and feared artefact millions of years ago. He could not allow it to be freed. He returned utilising science and methods incomprehensible to most.
But he was too late. The Krork were free and they were on a rampage. With fury in his mechanical heart the master of Solomnace turned too it's defence and such a battle was waged within the heart of that dread world that it spawned a million songs of lore.
The two rivals of the War in Heaven met on the field of battle once again as the infinite legions of the Necrons met with the masters of War for the first time in millions of years.
In the end the outcome was certain, the Krork escaped aboard the craftworld. Solomnace was battered, but it was not broken. Slight comfort to Trazyn who raged within his home. His galleries destroyed by the rampage of the Krork.
Or worse.
For the Krork had not escaped alone, for with the guidance of Arisrith, they had freed all those that they could and all those that wished escaped with them in their flight as they carried away the artefacts the Infinite had so jealously hoarded.
When they finally stopped safe from the wrath of Trayzn for now, it was not merely the Krork that disembarked, but also thousands of regiments of Imperial guard who had served as props in Trazyn's many pieces, at least one squad of every chapter that had ever existed in the Imperium from the time when they were loyal, for Trayzen's obsession with completeness would allow nothing less. Eldar by the thousands, entire species of Xenos who were long thought extinct taken in under the aegis of the Krork.
And one golden custodes who's skill impressed even the Krork, who slipped silently away.
I just couldn't resist the idea.
Paging in
@Durin
