The Long Night Part One: Embers in the Dusk: A Planetary Governor Quest (43k) Complete Sequel Up
- Thread starter Durin
- Start date
Death Comes to Helm's Deep
- Location
- A Place Miserably Bereft of Cats
Requested by @Doomed Wombat.
Death Comes to Helm's Deep
---
It had all ended so quickly.
With a blinding wave, and a sound like thunder the walls came crashing down. Thousands died in an instant. Millions in barely more than that. A crushing tide of horrors poured in-- wheels of a hundred burning eyes, beasts with seven wings unfurled, revealing the unspeakable shape below like a teratoma shaped from porcelein and gold, growing fat upon the terror of man. Helm's Deep was lost-- a fortress-city had been rendered into a valley of death. What little remained of the city's populace were cast into white-gold funeral pyres by a chorus of triumphant angyls, eagerly feeding flesh and spirit alike to their gluttonous master. Hark now, herald angyls sing:
Glory to the Eternal King.
But not all of Helm's Deep's citizens yet burned. A great number were simply buried in the rubble, choking beneath the walls and ceilings that were once their homes, workplaces and defenses. The roughshod latticework of ruined infrastructure glowed crimson from the lingering flames of burnt-out pillboxes and the eerie glow of Avernus' setting sun. The city's conquerors were greedy things, hungry for every last living soul the city could supply, and was even now being combed by polycephalous, spindle-limbed cherubs. Beneath one slab, a pair of lovers held one another and prayed for salvation, but found only the twisted rapture of the golden pyre. Under another, a mother clutched a crying toddler to smother its wails in the hope of sparing them both, not realizing that she was slowly suffocating her own child. And beneath yet another, a young girl sobbed into a soldier's chest as his last breath left his body.
Terror had a firm grip around her heart-- it was impossible not to be afraid. She'd seen the walls collapse, the corpse now draped over her had rushed to try and shield her, only for the both to be pinned beneath the rubble. It had all gone wrong so quickly. So quickly. Nobody had any time to think, to do anything but fight and die.
Her breath hitched as the slab suddenly began to shift. The fortification crumbled to dust around her. Golden fingers, thin like needles, jointed like the a spider's limb, pierced the dark and tore the ruined city from her hiding place. She screamed, filling the world with the sharp rapport of a child-sized impaler. Slugs of molten metal slammed into the porcelein thing that had found her, disturbing one mask with golden, spiderwebbing lines.
"BE NOT AFRAID," said the thing as it reached down, plucking her almost delicately-- almost lovingly-- from the wreck. "THE EMPEROR LOVES ALL CHILDREN. SUCH INNOCENCE HE WILL SAVE. REJOICE, FOR YOU SHALL BASK FOREVER IN HIS ETERNAL GLORY." It spoke with four mouths, smothering her screams under a chorus of four-hundred voices.
"I don't wanna--" she wailed, hammering desperately at the cherub, fists pounding, impaler spewing its final few rounds of ammunition as the Angyl's golden radiance began pushing at the very fringes of her mind. "I don't wanna die! Mommy! Daddy! Someone, please--"
Far beyond the girl's comprehension- her mind was so captured by fear and golden glory that she could hardly fathom it- the last light of dusk bled away. Twilight fell, and as the sun finally disappeared beneath the curvature of the world, a dim, emerald glow flashed across the horizon.
On any other day, it could have been a trick of the eye. A simple optical illusion.
Nearby, a moth's wings beat gently against a Radiant lamp.
The light died abruptly. The girl was suddenly aware of the world once more as the golden haze drained from her mind. She fell to the ground with a soft thud, and saw with tearful eyes as the cherub's many faces were struck suddenly in an agonized rictus. Its golden limbs began smoldering, burning black from within. The cancer spread unchecked, surging from a single beachhead of infection at the base of one spindly leg. A gloved hand grasped at the thin thing. Another followed, as the soldier's body drew itself up--
No. Not his body. Not anymore. Flesh and muscle and viscera all melted away from what lay beneath. His eyelids turned to ash, burning away as his eyes boiled and burst with pale, azure flame. The inferno spread across his face, down his neck and across his torso, down his arms and legs, toward his fingertips-- and then into and across the convulsing, dying Angyl.
The girl was speechless. Terror and shock both seized her mind, even as the last golden embers flickered away from her soul. "What--" She lifted her impaler with small, trembling hands at the thing that was once a member of the PDF. "What are you?"
She nearly jumped out of her skin as the thing's grinning skull turned towards her, smiling amidst a bonefire halo. "Why hello there, young lady," the skeleton said with uncanny cheer. It released the disintegrating angyl, a crown of ruby-red gems blazing into being atop its head. "You're a brave one, aren't you? Your kind never ceases to amaze, such courage in the face of death. I am Ziusudra, but you can call me Z, if you prefer."
"You-- you're not here to hurt me?" The girl gasped, feeling as though fear might at any moment stop her heart.
"Hurt you?" Ziusudra chuckled, reaching to lift the girl up onto her feet. "Oh, no. The opposite, in fact. You'd like to live, wouldn't you?"
She felt herself nod before her mind registered the motion. The skull's grin seemed to spread wider, "Good. What's your name, little one?"
"Susan," Susan answered. "Susan-- look out!"
"Well, that's quite a last name, I--" A beam of light smashed into the skeleton's shoulders, burning away what scraps remained of the PDF uniform still hanging from its bones. Ziusudra's expression seemed to shift suddenly, but not necessarily from pain. It held a skinless finger to its nonexistent lips, "If you'd give me just a moment though--" A surge of porcelein and gold had turned towards the site of the dark miracle. Ziusudra clicked its teeth together like a schoolteacher about to lecture a misbehaving student. "Now, now, now, what is this?"
Darkness poured from the gaps in the skeleton's frame, swallowing uniform and armor alike. It swirled upwards and cascaded downwards, billowing in clouds across the broken earth. A great slab of iron emerged from the depths of its tenebrous cloak, clutched at the hilt by a hand far too small for the blade it grasps. Without a sound, the iron slab scythed through the first of the host. "You are disturbing a /very/ important meeting. Such rudeness..."
"...IS PUNISHABLE BY DEATH."
The darkness surged further, flooding across the landscape and smothering all light. Tendrils of shadow curled through the rubble, seizing corpse after corpse after corpse after corpse. All as one, the city of Helm's Deep seemed to shudder and rise as the city's ruined husk ruptured, bursting like a pustule full of tar and terror. Skeletal figures drew themselves out of the ruins, carrying half-spent weapons and burning with blue-black flame. Here, there, everywhere, the dead were conscripted into a legion of walking corpses, skulls chittering with menace, hollowed voices rising in a vengeful paean that seemed to drown even the angylic hymns.
Ziusudra laughed as his black blade slid through the chambers of an Angyl's heart. He waved one hand, conjuring a wave of necromantic energies into the host of angyls, turning white and gold to mounds of grey-black ash. Imaplers, bolters, all manner of weapons began to roar all throughout the city as the dead took up their old arms or seized new ones.
Susan had heard all about what Psykers were capable of. Everyone knew. The power of Avernus' sorcerers were world-famous. But this... She'd never heard of anything like this. "Mister, what... What /are/ you?"
The skeleton turned, its eyes glowing with mirthful fire. "I am a king, my little princess. Come along now," he offered his hand-- she took it, stars in her eyes. "There is still much to do before the night is done."
------
Helm's Deep would someday be reclaimed. Avernites were, after all, nothing if not a resilient people. But it's said that the most curious thing about the reconstruction was not necessarily how its defenses failed so spectacularly, or how such faults might be repaired, but rather that what few remains could be found in the wake of the disaster were fundamentally wrong. Only a few such bodies were found-- rendered utterly bereft of bone, as if it had all been torn wholesale from them.
Members of the Biologis initially suspected some kind of mutation of life-eater fungus, but what scant security footage remained told a different story.
Death had come to Helm's Deep with a smile upon his face, a spring in his step, and a legion of the dead in his wake.
------
@Durin I was told the Radiance was summoning things out of the caverns. And so, here you go.
Death Comes to Helm's Deep
---
It had all ended so quickly.
With a blinding wave, and a sound like thunder the walls came crashing down. Thousands died in an instant. Millions in barely more than that. A crushing tide of horrors poured in-- wheels of a hundred burning eyes, beasts with seven wings unfurled, revealing the unspeakable shape below like a teratoma shaped from porcelein and gold, growing fat upon the terror of man. Helm's Deep was lost-- a fortress-city had been rendered into a valley of death. What little remained of the city's populace were cast into white-gold funeral pyres by a chorus of triumphant angyls, eagerly feeding flesh and spirit alike to their gluttonous master. Hark now, herald angyls sing:
Glory to the Eternal King.
But not all of Helm's Deep's citizens yet burned. A great number were simply buried in the rubble, choking beneath the walls and ceilings that were once their homes, workplaces and defenses. The roughshod latticework of ruined infrastructure glowed crimson from the lingering flames of burnt-out pillboxes and the eerie glow of Avernus' setting sun. The city's conquerors were greedy things, hungry for every last living soul the city could supply, and was even now being combed by polycephalous, spindle-limbed cherubs. Beneath one slab, a pair of lovers held one another and prayed for salvation, but found only the twisted rapture of the golden pyre. Under another, a mother clutched a crying toddler to smother its wails in the hope of sparing them both, not realizing that she was slowly suffocating her own child. And beneath yet another, a young girl sobbed into a soldier's chest as his last breath left his body.
Terror had a firm grip around her heart-- it was impossible not to be afraid. She'd seen the walls collapse, the corpse now draped over her had rushed to try and shield her, only for the both to be pinned beneath the rubble. It had all gone wrong so quickly. So quickly. Nobody had any time to think, to do anything but fight and die.
Her breath hitched as the slab suddenly began to shift. The fortification crumbled to dust around her. Golden fingers, thin like needles, jointed like the a spider's limb, pierced the dark and tore the ruined city from her hiding place. She screamed, filling the world with the sharp rapport of a child-sized impaler. Slugs of molten metal slammed into the porcelein thing that had found her, disturbing one mask with golden, spiderwebbing lines.
"BE NOT AFRAID," said the thing as it reached down, plucking her almost delicately-- almost lovingly-- from the wreck. "THE EMPEROR LOVES ALL CHILDREN. SUCH INNOCENCE HE WILL SAVE. REJOICE, FOR YOU SHALL BASK FOREVER IN HIS ETERNAL GLORY." It spoke with four mouths, smothering her screams under a chorus of four-hundred voices.
"I don't wanna--" she wailed, hammering desperately at the cherub, fists pounding, impaler spewing its final few rounds of ammunition as the Angyl's golden radiance began pushing at the very fringes of her mind. "I don't wanna die! Mommy! Daddy! Someone, please--"
Far beyond the girl's comprehension- her mind was so captured by fear and golden glory that she could hardly fathom it- the last light of dusk bled away. Twilight fell, and as the sun finally disappeared beneath the curvature of the world, a dim, emerald glow flashed across the horizon.
On any other day, it could have been a trick of the eye. A simple optical illusion.
Nearby, a moth's wings beat gently against a Radiant lamp.
The light died abruptly. The girl was suddenly aware of the world once more as the golden haze drained from her mind. She fell to the ground with a soft thud, and saw with tearful eyes as the cherub's many faces were struck suddenly in an agonized rictus. Its golden limbs began smoldering, burning black from within. The cancer spread unchecked, surging from a single beachhead of infection at the base of one spindly leg. A gloved hand grasped at the thin thing. Another followed, as the soldier's body drew itself up--
No. Not his body. Not anymore. Flesh and muscle and viscera all melted away from what lay beneath. His eyelids turned to ash, burning away as his eyes boiled and burst with pale, azure flame. The inferno spread across his face, down his neck and across his torso, down his arms and legs, toward his fingertips-- and then into and across the convulsing, dying Angyl.
The girl was speechless. Terror and shock both seized her mind, even as the last golden embers flickered away from her soul. "What--" She lifted her impaler with small, trembling hands at the thing that was once a member of the PDF. "What are you?"
She nearly jumped out of her skin as the thing's grinning skull turned towards her, smiling amidst a bonefire halo. "Why hello there, young lady," the skeleton said with uncanny cheer. It released the disintegrating angyl, a crown of ruby-red gems blazing into being atop its head. "You're a brave one, aren't you? Your kind never ceases to amaze, such courage in the face of death. I am Ziusudra, but you can call me Z, if you prefer."
"You-- you're not here to hurt me?" The girl gasped, feeling as though fear might at any moment stop her heart.
"Hurt you?" Ziusudra chuckled, reaching to lift the girl up onto her feet. "Oh, no. The opposite, in fact. You'd like to live, wouldn't you?"
She felt herself nod before her mind registered the motion. The skull's grin seemed to spread wider, "Good. What's your name, little one?"
"Susan," Susan answered. "Susan-- look out!"
"Well, that's quite a last name, I--" A beam of light smashed into the skeleton's shoulders, burning away what scraps remained of the PDF uniform still hanging from its bones. Ziusudra's expression seemed to shift suddenly, but not necessarily from pain. It held a skinless finger to its nonexistent lips, "If you'd give me just a moment though--" A surge of porcelein and gold had turned towards the site of the dark miracle. Ziusudra clicked its teeth together like a schoolteacher about to lecture a misbehaving student. "Now, now, now, what is this?"
Darkness poured from the gaps in the skeleton's frame, swallowing uniform and armor alike. It swirled upwards and cascaded downwards, billowing in clouds across the broken earth. A great slab of iron emerged from the depths of its tenebrous cloak, clutched at the hilt by a hand far too small for the blade it grasps. Without a sound, the iron slab scythed through the first of the host. "You are disturbing a /very/ important meeting. Such rudeness..."
"...IS PUNISHABLE BY DEATH."
The darkness surged further, flooding across the landscape and smothering all light. Tendrils of shadow curled through the rubble, seizing corpse after corpse after corpse after corpse. All as one, the city of Helm's Deep seemed to shudder and rise as the city's ruined husk ruptured, bursting like a pustule full of tar and terror. Skeletal figures drew themselves out of the ruins, carrying half-spent weapons and burning with blue-black flame. Here, there, everywhere, the dead were conscripted into a legion of walking corpses, skulls chittering with menace, hollowed voices rising in a vengeful paean that seemed to drown even the angylic hymns.
Ziusudra laughed as his black blade slid through the chambers of an Angyl's heart. He waved one hand, conjuring a wave of necromantic energies into the host of angyls, turning white and gold to mounds of grey-black ash. Imaplers, bolters, all manner of weapons began to roar all throughout the city as the dead took up their old arms or seized new ones.
Susan had heard all about what Psykers were capable of. Everyone knew. The power of Avernus' sorcerers were world-famous. But this... She'd never heard of anything like this. "Mister, what... What /are/ you?"
The skeleton turned, its eyes glowing with mirthful fire. "I am a king, my little princess. Come along now," he offered his hand-- she took it, stars in her eyes. "There is still much to do before the night is done."
------
Helm's Deep would someday be reclaimed. Avernites were, after all, nothing if not a resilient people. But it's said that the most curious thing about the reconstruction was not necessarily how its defenses failed so spectacularly, or how such faults might be repaired, but rather that what few remains could be found in the wake of the disaster were fundamentally wrong. Only a few such bodies were found-- rendered utterly bereft of bone, as if it had all been torn wholesale from them.
Members of the Biologis initially suspected some kind of mutation of life-eater fungus, but what scant security footage remained told a different story.
Death had come to Helm's Deep with a smile upon his face, a spring in his step, and a legion of the dead in his wake.
------
@Durin I was told the Radiance was summoning things out of the caverns. And so, here you go.
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- Location
- UK
That still doesn't change the fact that the Astartes are more expendable than an equivalent force of Helguard - it just means that the arithmetic isn't quite so overwhelming. Besides, putting such heavy duty elites directly on the front lines may well be necessary to blunt the onslaught for as long as possible. It doesn't matter how many casualties they take, so long as they allow us to hold for a few more hours.
Shard
One and Many
- Location
- Malaysia
I would say that Helguard are more expendable than Astartes (Astartes live forever and keep growing) but Astartes would actually do a better job slowing the 1st. Due to their Heroic Connection.
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
First astartes transcendent in the galaxy (aside from Bjorn) nat 100s their delay roll and kills the First.
Oh yeah, right, we can probably expect those Crimson Crusaders from the quest I didn't read to appear as the rift opens.
On the same note, we might want to save some of the Astartes for the final battle in Vault, where they can do a good job fighting 1st's lower retinue.
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
Fingers crossed we hope if Durin rolled well.
Lost Warden
AN: Part 2 of a multi-part omake between here and The Lost Primarch by Daemon Hunter. Check there for how Kesar got into this mess. (or here again if I can figure out how to link it.) The Lost Primarch Quest | Page 440 Thank you Doomed Wombat for teaching me a thing. Much appreciated.
Lost Warden
Upon the walls of Dis, the defenders noticed a warp rift opening up. Its edges golden in color, and rigidly regular. They knew not how it could have been opened so close to the walls, with seemingly no daemon there to open it. Yet even as the psykers upon the walls did their best to keep it from realizing itself fully, it snapped into place. From it came a single figure. Huge, armored in black and white, with inscriptions covering the entirety of the armor. Wielding a massive blade similarly adorned. The rift closed behind the being immediately, and it stood there looking around for seconds before focusing on the gilded host in front of it. The psykers could sense no taint of the Abomination on it, and it clearly did not have any markings or mutations that would suggest it was a servant of any of the other Gods of Chaos. Yet it was a large figure, seemingly human, yet dwarfing even an Astartes in terminator armor.
The defenders kept their fire on the obvious enemy for now, waiting on orders regarding whatever this being was. It could have been some strange work of the Planet Mind, and they did not desire to anger such a thing with the legions of the Abomination so close. The appearance of the figure was eventually brought up to Frederick Rotbart himself, who sent requests for information to Tamia, the Eldar, and Ridcully to see just what they might know of such a thing. Yet it was Saint Lin who messaged him first. Saying that he had sensed a change. There was something that had just shown up on Avernus that was closer to the Emperor than anything he had sensed before. While the response of the others showed that they had no idea what the being was. As the defenders of Dis tried to come to terms with whatever this new variable was, the Abominations gilded hosts learned of it first.
Kesar Dorlin, 11th Primarch, Lord of Valhalla, Daemonsbane, Eternal Warden charged forward into the army of daemons. He was close to exhaustion, wounded, and yet there were beings here he knew would prove devastating if allowed to breach the walls of the Hive, and so alone, he waded into the army. The first waves were as chaff before him. Utterly incapable of so much as slowing him. His sword reaping a mighty harvest of daemon lives. He carved his way towards the largest angelic being there, with little else to go on, assuming it was the leader of these forces. Their lockstep nature, and inhuman discipline suggesting to him that killing the leadership of this force would drastically weaken it.
Yet they would not let him close easily. Thousands upon thousands of golden chanting warriors streamed towards him. Thousands more fired upon him with mechanical regularity. Their weapons failed to leave a mark upon his armor, while the warriors could barely even slow his charge towards there leader. Even worse they sensed that not all that felt the taste of his sword survived, true death came for some of those felled by that mighty blade, though most were banished instead. Still this was something that could bring them true fear, and permanent ending. Their steps became less confident, their strikes slightly hesitant as the fear of a being capable of truly ending even a daemon came upon them.
Still the chaff were but chaff, and it did not take long for more powerful daemons to make there presence known. Here Kesar had to slow, and pay some modicum of attention to the angelic beings attacking him, instead of simply carving through them like so much air. Their gleaming blades of gold seeking his heart, yet never touching him. He wove through the angyls on his way to the leader of this host. Every step he took brought him closer even as he danced between the blades and bullets of those trying to stop him. The ordered lines in front of him a mess as he did.
Eventually this was too much, and the lieutenants of the First Circle Angyl in charge of this host were sent to stop him. Yet he had faced the Changeling as Doombreed and these were no masters of combat such as he. Skilled yes, superhumanly so, but he was no mere human. The Primarchs blade flashed its runes glowing bright and the names carved upon it seeming to shine with every strike. His armor held against even their greatest blows, the names upon it pulsing with power, especially that of his kindest son on his back, protecting him even in death with their memory. Clash after clash, as the lone Primarch fought a dozen of some of the Abomination's greatest servants and they were found wanting.
The First Angyl found his progress slowed, it taking far too long for its retinue to remove this pest from their path. So it flew forth, gliding towards the battle. As it closed it reached out towards the mind of this foolish mortal, and tried to sense for its proper place. Yet what it found was something horrific. The mind resisted any change being forced upon it, an affront to the will of the Tyrant to be sure, but it was the sense of displacement that it felt that was truly disturbing to it. This being had no business being in this place, in this time. Such a thing was an anachronism, completely anathema to the ordered reality the Tyrant demanded. Even its death could not fully fix this, and so death was not what it delivered. Instead, it studied clearly the warp traces of the prior spell that had sent the being here to oppose it, and crafted another to reverse the process. Sending it back from whence it came and ensuring that the Tyrants ordered reality remained pristine. Everything and everyone in its proper place, beneath his heel.
Kesar saw this new wave of warp stuff coming, and after removing a wing from one angyl and a leg from another in a sudden burst of frenzied activity, braced himself for whatever insanity this blast of warp stuff would have. Yet as he prepared to resist some damaging effect, he realized it was another portal, much like the one that had sent him here. He could not dodge it, and was engulfed shortly. Another trip through seemingly infinite time and space saw him spat back upon the leftover piece of the world which he had started this day on, seemingly immediately after he had left it. The Changeling still pointing towards him, shock clear on its face. It seemed it had expected whatever it had done to be permanent. Chuckling to himself at the vagaries of fate, he charged forward once again. Intent on killing the Changeling once and for all, after that he could take the time to properly process what he had experience.
Back on top of the walls of Dis, the defenders kept up their grim duty. Whatever that being in the black and white armor had been, it had bought them time, slowed the advance of the gilded host, and more importantly that of the First Circle Angyl leading it. Many said a silent prayer to the Emperor in thanks and support for the being's service, but that was all they could spare as the daemons closed in. They refused to allow Saint Lin to be die to these abominations, and would fight to death to keep them back. Within the Vault, Saint Lin's sense for a small piece of the Emperor disappeared, but his faith did not falter. Whatever aspect of the Emperor had been here, had still shown up in this dark time, when the people of the Avernus needed every bit of help they could get, but they had to be able to stand on their own, and so they would. He went back to his prayers, and readied his pistols, just in case.
@Durin
Lost Warden
Upon the walls of Dis, the defenders noticed a warp rift opening up. Its edges golden in color, and rigidly regular. They knew not how it could have been opened so close to the walls, with seemingly no daemon there to open it. Yet even as the psykers upon the walls did their best to keep it from realizing itself fully, it snapped into place. From it came a single figure. Huge, armored in black and white, with inscriptions covering the entirety of the armor. Wielding a massive blade similarly adorned. The rift closed behind the being immediately, and it stood there looking around for seconds before focusing on the gilded host in front of it. The psykers could sense no taint of the Abomination on it, and it clearly did not have any markings or mutations that would suggest it was a servant of any of the other Gods of Chaos. Yet it was a large figure, seemingly human, yet dwarfing even an Astartes in terminator armor.
The defenders kept their fire on the obvious enemy for now, waiting on orders regarding whatever this being was. It could have been some strange work of the Planet Mind, and they did not desire to anger such a thing with the legions of the Abomination so close. The appearance of the figure was eventually brought up to Frederick Rotbart himself, who sent requests for information to Tamia, the Eldar, and Ridcully to see just what they might know of such a thing. Yet it was Saint Lin who messaged him first. Saying that he had sensed a change. There was something that had just shown up on Avernus that was closer to the Emperor than anything he had sensed before. While the response of the others showed that they had no idea what the being was. As the defenders of Dis tried to come to terms with whatever this new variable was, the Abominations gilded hosts learned of it first.
_________________________________________________________________________
Kesar Dorlin, 11th Primarch, Lord of Valhalla, Daemonsbane, Eternal Warden charged forward into the army of daemons. He was close to exhaustion, wounded, and yet there were beings here he knew would prove devastating if allowed to breach the walls of the Hive, and so alone, he waded into the army. The first waves were as chaff before him. Utterly incapable of so much as slowing him. His sword reaping a mighty harvest of daemon lives. He carved his way towards the largest angelic being there, with little else to go on, assuming it was the leader of these forces. Their lockstep nature, and inhuman discipline suggesting to him that killing the leadership of this force would drastically weaken it.
Yet they would not let him close easily. Thousands upon thousands of golden chanting warriors streamed towards him. Thousands more fired upon him with mechanical regularity. Their weapons failed to leave a mark upon his armor, while the warriors could barely even slow his charge towards there leader. Even worse they sensed that not all that felt the taste of his sword survived, true death came for some of those felled by that mighty blade, though most were banished instead. Still this was something that could bring them true fear, and permanent ending. Their steps became less confident, their strikes slightly hesitant as the fear of a being capable of truly ending even a daemon came upon them.
Still the chaff were but chaff, and it did not take long for more powerful daemons to make there presence known. Here Kesar had to slow, and pay some modicum of attention to the angelic beings attacking him, instead of simply carving through them like so much air. Their gleaming blades of gold seeking his heart, yet never touching him. He wove through the angyls on his way to the leader of this host. Every step he took brought him closer even as he danced between the blades and bullets of those trying to stop him. The ordered lines in front of him a mess as he did.
Eventually this was too much, and the lieutenants of the First Circle Angyl in charge of this host were sent to stop him. Yet he had faced the Changeling as Doombreed and these were no masters of combat such as he. Skilled yes, superhumanly so, but he was no mere human. The Primarchs blade flashed its runes glowing bright and the names carved upon it seeming to shine with every strike. His armor held against even their greatest blows, the names upon it pulsing with power, especially that of his kindest son on his back, protecting him even in death with their memory. Clash after clash, as the lone Primarch fought a dozen of some of the Abomination's greatest servants and they were found wanting.
The First Angyl found his progress slowed, it taking far too long for its retinue to remove this pest from their path. So it flew forth, gliding towards the battle. As it closed it reached out towards the mind of this foolish mortal, and tried to sense for its proper place. Yet what it found was something horrific. The mind resisted any change being forced upon it, an affront to the will of the Tyrant to be sure, but it was the sense of displacement that it felt that was truly disturbing to it. This being had no business being in this place, in this time. Such a thing was an anachronism, completely anathema to the ordered reality the Tyrant demanded. Even its death could not fully fix this, and so death was not what it delivered. Instead, it studied clearly the warp traces of the prior spell that had sent the being here to oppose it, and crafted another to reverse the process. Sending it back from whence it came and ensuring that the Tyrants ordered reality remained pristine. Everything and everyone in its proper place, beneath his heel.
Kesar saw this new wave of warp stuff coming, and after removing a wing from one angyl and a leg from another in a sudden burst of frenzied activity, braced himself for whatever insanity this blast of warp stuff would have. Yet as he prepared to resist some damaging effect, he realized it was another portal, much like the one that had sent him here. He could not dodge it, and was engulfed shortly. Another trip through seemingly infinite time and space saw him spat back upon the leftover piece of the world which he had started this day on, seemingly immediately after he had left it. The Changeling still pointing towards him, shock clear on its face. It seemed it had expected whatever it had done to be permanent. Chuckling to himself at the vagaries of fate, he charged forward once again. Intent on killing the Changeling once and for all, after that he could take the time to properly process what he had experience.
_________________________________________________________________________
Back on top of the walls of Dis, the defenders kept up their grim duty. Whatever that being in the black and white armor had been, it had bought them time, slowed the advance of the gilded host, and more importantly that of the First Circle Angyl leading it. Many said a silent prayer to the Emperor in thanks and support for the being's service, but that was all they could spare as the daemons closed in. They refused to allow Saint Lin to be die to these abominations, and would fight to death to keep them back. Within the Vault, Saint Lin's sense for a small piece of the Emperor disappeared, but his faith did not falter. Whatever aspect of the Emperor had been here, had still shown up in this dark time, when the people of the Avernus needed every bit of help they could get, but they had to be able to stand on their own, and so they would. He went back to his prayers, and readied his pistols, just in case.
@Durin
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Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
There's a number on the bottom of a post that you can copy and link to.
Here Embers in the Dusk: A Planetary Governor Quest (43k) | Page 5283 this links you to your omake above.
- Location
- UK
There should be some Blood Angels guarding Lin, IIRC, seeing as he was studying the nature of the Sanguinor or whatever. Certainly, he probably has a very beefy personal bodyguard unit, drawn from our best elites, who are probably counted as separate from the rest of our forces.
I can't remember off the top of my head though, so I might ask Durin to confirm.
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
He has the saint guard, a thousand strong life guard unit.
They're there as a default.
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- Location
- England
Also nine Veteran Grey Knights, last I checked.
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
I don't think they're in his body guard, they spend most of their time helping the inquisition off world. We may know that HHWO isn't going to nab another one (we think), but I think they're still being careful.
I'm kinda waiting for that one who got nabbed to show up sometime having been massively buffed by various Great Ones and show up to wreck face at some point.
Prelude to Incursion Part Two
Shard
One and Many
- Location
- Malaysia
Prelude to Incursion Part Two
Continues from here
Occandereal knew the folly of attacking a world without a plan, and proper plan could only be created with full knowledge. The mortals failed catastrophically for their lack of knowledge, lack of planning, and of course by mortal flaws. And from what he could tell, the enemy knew. The fool Herrion was perhaps not incorrect in some, specific regards of the planet. The veritable army of lesser daemons that futilely attempted to fight him off was.. telling.
And as the Archangyl plumbed the depths of the warp, slaying and learning of the planet from what daemons had visited the planets, he learned more, even deigning to direct a visit to the rumormongers in the bars which claimed escapees from the planet. The dreaded Witch of Nothing. An Aria Oakheart who, it seemed, ate daemons and souls and turned psychic energies to naught. Perhaps exaggerated, perhaps not. There had been a mysterious assailant who annihilated the final ritual, after all. Perhaps the Eldar, if it was indeed a Maiden World.
So. Assume the worst. It is an Eldar Maiden World in truth, guarded by innumerable creatures of the warp (to compensate for the general lack of Eldar) in addition to humans who had inadvertently settled the planet and now served as puppets to the wretched Xenos. The advanced technologies they beheld were most likely created by the Eldar then.. perhaps not created, but passed from the Webway Eldar. They lived by heresies without even knowing the truth. Occandereal felt some measure of pity for the inhabitants now. But soon they (well, their descendants) would all know the light of the Emperor.
It would be difficult to stay manifested in the baser reality if he simply passed the poles, so he would need to force the world into the true realm. That would take energy.. then it would have to cross through the defences and distance... which would expend more energy... and then launch an assault upon wherever the False Saint was kept, expending yet more energy still. There was still the matter of the ones who slew Apollyon, of the certain Eldar intervention against the attack. His forces might be enough.. but then it might not. Herrion had made the same error, and Occandereal would not.
Unlike the fractious daemons of the Chaos Gods, the Archangyls of the Emperor knew the power of cooperation. Which was why Occandereal would speak to his peer and friend, Akriel, another Archangel of the 1st Circle. In a stroke the amount of forces available to slay the False Saint was doubled, something the Exalted daemons would struggle to achieve. Together with Akriel he wove a plan in the palace of the Emperor, far beyond the reach of any seer.
Akriel, the greater commander of the two, would clear the way for Occandereal, the greater warrior of the two, to march into whichever city the False Saint hid in and subsequently slay the False Saint. Occandereal would gain the greater favor for this act, and for that Akriel would have to be compensated for his great expense of power. The cost Akriel extracted from Occandereal was great, but unsurprising. The energies and time of an Archangel of their power was not something to be bargained for lightly.
In all honesty Occandereal had acquired Akriel's aid at a bargain. Merely near a century would it be needed for Occandereal to complete his end of the bargain with Akriel, it was unfortunate that the other Archangyls were occupied defending Terra from the horrowing monster beneath Mars, and two 1st Circles was overkill anyhow. Soon, they could cover the skies of Avernus in gold, and wipe the False Saint from existence. The Eldar that dwelt upon would not be long for it after.
Continues from here
Occandereal knew the folly of attacking a world without a plan, and proper plan could only be created with full knowledge. The mortals failed catastrophically for their lack of knowledge, lack of planning, and of course by mortal flaws. And from what he could tell, the enemy knew. The fool Herrion was perhaps not incorrect in some, specific regards of the planet. The veritable army of lesser daemons that futilely attempted to fight him off was.. telling.
And as the Archangyl plumbed the depths of the warp, slaying and learning of the planet from what daemons had visited the planets, he learned more, even deigning to direct a visit to the rumormongers in the bars which claimed escapees from the planet. The dreaded Witch of Nothing. An Aria Oakheart who, it seemed, ate daemons and souls and turned psychic energies to naught. Perhaps exaggerated, perhaps not. There had been a mysterious assailant who annihilated the final ritual, after all. Perhaps the Eldar, if it was indeed a Maiden World.
So. Assume the worst. It is an Eldar Maiden World in truth, guarded by innumerable creatures of the warp (to compensate for the general lack of Eldar) in addition to humans who had inadvertently settled the planet and now served as puppets to the wretched Xenos. The advanced technologies they beheld were most likely created by the Eldar then.. perhaps not created, but passed from the Webway Eldar. They lived by heresies without even knowing the truth. Occandereal felt some measure of pity for the inhabitants now. But soon they (well, their descendants) would all know the light of the Emperor.
It would be difficult to stay manifested in the baser reality if he simply passed the poles, so he would need to force the world into the true realm. That would take energy.. then it would have to cross through the defences and distance... which would expend more energy... and then launch an assault upon wherever the False Saint was kept, expending yet more energy still. There was still the matter of the ones who slew Apollyon, of the certain Eldar intervention against the attack. His forces might be enough.. but then it might not. Herrion had made the same error, and Occandereal would not.
Unlike the fractious daemons of the Chaos Gods, the Archangyls of the Emperor knew the power of cooperation. Which was why Occandereal would speak to his peer and friend, Akriel, another Archangel of the 1st Circle. In a stroke the amount of forces available to slay the False Saint was doubled, something the Exalted daemons would struggle to achieve. Together with Akriel he wove a plan in the palace of the Emperor, far beyond the reach of any seer.
Akriel, the greater commander of the two, would clear the way for Occandereal, the greater warrior of the two, to march into whichever city the False Saint hid in and subsequently slay the False Saint. Occandereal would gain the greater favor for this act, and for that Akriel would have to be compensated for his great expense of power. The cost Akriel extracted from Occandereal was great, but unsurprising. The energies and time of an Archangel of their power was not something to be bargained for lightly.
In all honesty Occandereal had acquired Akriel's aid at a bargain. Merely near a century would it be needed for Occandereal to complete his end of the bargain with Akriel, it was unfortunate that the other Archangyls were occupied defending Terra from the horrowing monster beneath Mars, and two 1st Circles was overkill anyhow. Soon, they could cover the skies of Avernus in gold, and wipe the False Saint from existence. The Eldar that dwelt upon would not be long for it after.
- Location
- England
[X] Plan The Kitchen Sink Part 1
Nameless Heroes: The Berserkers
- Location
- Elsewhere
Nameless Heroes: The Berserkers
*Thud* *Thud* *Thud* *Thud* *Smash*
Huh, I pull my fist out of the crater in the ground, there was an angel in my hand where did it go? I shook my head, where was I? There was something important I had to do, what was it?
I felt detached from my body, everything almost seeming to be in a haze. Golden blood drips down my form as I stand up. Only two of my squad is left, what happened to the rest?
He was..he was the toughest of us able to shrug off anything, now he just laughs and laughs without ceasing. Even as he tears off a false angels wings in front of him.
The other is fully armored now and is covered constantly in shadow. All I remember is a glinting blade, he takes the weapons of the angels and uses it against them now.
Heaving my blade we begin to trudge forward.
What happened to the others? I don't remember, I was here for a reason. Who am I? I can't remember my name.
All I see and feel is this haze.
Screaming in the distance, we hurry our steps. People running, so small now I could crush them. One trips and falls, a young girl the mom screaming as she tries to go back. An angel marching forward raises its blade.
There is only rage, screaming I jump forward my blade cutting through their form with ease. I look at the girl for a second before turning, her eyes are the same hers I can't look. The same as who's? My two companions land besides me the laughing one and the still one.
Ahead is an endless formation of the things, there is a thunderclap. Dozens of spears point at us, it's not enough.
We shatter their formation like glass, their perfect discipline breaking and a rictus of fear appearing on their faces. Yes this is what I wanted!! My brothers were dying and the damned things faces never changed, something broke in me and screamed enough!
We were meant to be thunder, and yet it wasn't enough to stop the flow of gold. They'd die unable to do their duty and save the people they were supposed to protect.
And then when my squad thought we were finished a bloody power reached out and answered, giving us power to break these faceless monsters. Our forms shifted and became much more then we already were. A crimson tide that nearly overwhelmed us, focusing it all on these angels. No-more, no more perfect order, no more, unending tide, no more tyranny!! I give everything to stop this faceless horde, to do my duty and to save my people! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD, SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!!
An Unyielding roar leaves my mouth and the angels step back in fear.
And in the warp a blood soaked laugh rings through, finally he had some pawns that were truly entertaining him.
*25 minutes later*
Grabbing the spear that had stabbed him he broke it half before grabbing the things neck and breaking it. Bleeding from multiple wounds and with a ruined arm he was the last one left.
The laughing one had died being impaled upon dozens of spears, fighting even as he was being torn apart. His flesh almost seeming to close upon the weapons.
The armored one had killed by one of the greater daemons in a mutual kill, the false angels blade being the only thing that had been able to pierce its armor.
Only he stood, his anger sustaining him keeping him strong even as his body ached and became numb.
"So you're the one who has been halting our advance. Such is your heresy that not only worship a false emperor but turn to one of the dark gods to gain false. I Azeriel of the fourth circle shall put you to rest heretic."
My only response is a scream as I jump at the four winged angel. And with lazy wave of its hand my sword chipped and cracked from hours of fighting shatters. And then there is pain, the angel impaling me with its sword holding me aloft.
All strength leaves my body, and the anger recedes. Sleep begins to take me, why am I fighting?
Green eyes spark in my memory, the girl I saved and another far more important.
Katie.
Strength fills my form one last time, and with the broken hilt of my sword I plunge it into the angels shoulder.
The angel screams even as it sends a blast into my form coring me entirely.
Falling to the side, my eye sight blurring the anger finally leaving me. The last thing I see is a woman with sleek sword and shield fighting the angel, and I smile. Duty only ends in death and I completed mine to the very last.
-----------
Grunting with effort Khol blocks the daemons blade before beheading it, sending it back to the warp. It had been a tough fight even with the daemon being injured.
Motioning for her men to move forward, she knelt down next to mutant that had fought the daemon. The sign of the raptor on what was left on its clothes, a thunder warrior? But how did it fall, and to the Blood God at that?
Shaking her head she stands up, foul as their fall was, it had slowed the daemons advance through Lonely Mountain. So she would not have their names stricken from the records, a rare sign of sympathy from the frozen women.
Turning away she continued her mission to recapture the walls, having the bodies burned, and sending a message to Rotbart about their fall. The corpse smiling all the while.
@Durin yeah I couldn't help myself.
*Slight edit*
*Thud* *Thud* *Thud* *Thud* *Smash*
Huh, I pull my fist out of the crater in the ground, there was an angel in my hand where did it go? I shook my head, where was I? There was something important I had to do, what was it?
I felt detached from my body, everything almost seeming to be in a haze. Golden blood drips down my form as I stand up. Only two of my squad is left, what happened to the rest?
He was..he was the toughest of us able to shrug off anything, now he just laughs and laughs without ceasing. Even as he tears off a false angels wings in front of him.
The other is fully armored now and is covered constantly in shadow. All I remember is a glinting blade, he takes the weapons of the angels and uses it against them now.
Heaving my blade we begin to trudge forward.
What happened to the others? I don't remember, I was here for a reason. Who am I? I can't remember my name.
All I see and feel is this haze.
Screaming in the distance, we hurry our steps. People running, so small now I could crush them. One trips and falls, a young girl the mom screaming as she tries to go back. An angel marching forward raises its blade.
There is only rage, screaming I jump forward my blade cutting through their form with ease. I look at the girl for a second before turning, her eyes are the same hers I can't look. The same as who's? My two companions land besides me the laughing one and the still one.
Ahead is an endless formation of the things, there is a thunderclap. Dozens of spears point at us, it's not enough.
We shatter their formation like glass, their perfect discipline breaking and a rictus of fear appearing on their faces. Yes this is what I wanted!! My brothers were dying and the damned things faces never changed, something broke in me and screamed enough!
We were meant to be thunder, and yet it wasn't enough to stop the flow of gold. They'd die unable to do their duty and save the people they were supposed to protect.
And then when my squad thought we were finished a bloody power reached out and answered, giving us power to break these faceless monsters. Our forms shifted and became much more then we already were. A crimson tide that nearly overwhelmed us, focusing it all on these angels. No-more, no more perfect order, no more, unending tide, no more tyranny!! I give everything to stop this faceless horde, to do my duty and to save my people! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD, SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!!
An Unyielding roar leaves my mouth and the angels step back in fear.
And in the warp a blood soaked laugh rings through, finally he had some pawns that were truly entertaining him.
*25 minutes later*
Grabbing the spear that had stabbed him he broke it half before grabbing the things neck and breaking it. Bleeding from multiple wounds and with a ruined arm he was the last one left.
The laughing one had died being impaled upon dozens of spears, fighting even as he was being torn apart. His flesh almost seeming to close upon the weapons.
The armored one had killed by one of the greater daemons in a mutual kill, the false angels blade being the only thing that had been able to pierce its armor.
Only he stood, his anger sustaining him keeping him strong even as his body ached and became numb.
"So you're the one who has been halting our advance. Such is your heresy that not only worship a false emperor but turn to one of the dark gods to gain false. I Azeriel of the fourth circle shall put you to rest heretic."
My only response is a scream as I jump at the four winged angel. And with lazy wave of its hand my sword chipped and cracked from hours of fighting shatters. And then there is pain, the angel impaling me with its sword holding me aloft.
All strength leaves my body, and the anger recedes. Sleep begins to take me, why am I fighting?
Green eyes spark in my memory, the girl I saved and another far more important.
Katie.
Strength fills my form one last time, and with the broken hilt of my sword I plunge it into the angels shoulder.
The angel screams even as it sends a blast into my form coring me entirely.
Falling to the side, my eye sight blurring the anger finally leaving me. The last thing I see is a woman with sleek sword and shield fighting the angel, and I smile. Duty only ends in death and I completed mine to the very last.
-----------
Grunting with effort Khol blocks the daemons blade before beheading it, sending it back to the warp. It had been a tough fight even with the daemon being injured.
Motioning for her men to move forward, she knelt down next to mutant that had fought the daemon. The sign of the raptor on what was left on its clothes, a thunder warrior? But how did it fall, and to the Blood God at that?
Shaking her head she stands up, foul as their fall was, it had slowed the daemons advance through Lonely Mountain. So she would not have their names stricken from the records, a rare sign of sympathy from the frozen women.
Turning away she continued her mission to recapture the walls, having the bodies burned, and sending a message to Rotbart about their fall. The corpse smiling all the while.
@Durin yeah I couldn't help myself.
*Slight edit*
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- Location
- Spain
@huntsman0697 I would suggest to switch [] Ridcully Help with slowing the Archangyl with his divination to [] Ridcully to continue helping the Ancient One to reach the 1st Circle
Basically because if we manage to get the Ancient One here before the Exalted opens the portal, the damage it can prevent is absolutely massive, and even if we only cut the time by half an hour it would also be incredibly good for us.
[X] Plan The Kitchen Sink Part 1
Basically because if we manage to get the Ancient One here before the Exalted opens the portal, the damage it can prevent is absolutely massive, and even if we only cut the time by half an hour it would also be incredibly good for us.
[X] Plan The Kitchen Sink Part 1
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- Location
- Earth
That won't work, because it makes the Eldar seers redundant. And delaying the 1st Circle also buys time for the other natives besides Areatha and the Ancient One to get here.
- Location
- Spain
I have nothing against the rest of the natives, but I consider that we need the BIG guys here ASAP much more than the armies.
- Location
- madison
we're not going to be able to half his travel time, so the first circle is going to open the rift. from there we have to hold until the ancint one cuts through to Dis. I think rids would add more time to us holding than he would remove from the ancient one cutting through.
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
A different reason why it probably wouldn't work is that presumably they're going flat out already I'm not sure its possible for them to arrive faster than they currently are short of teleportation we know doesn't work on the AO.
That being said.
While we likely cannot get them to Dis fast enough to interrupt the other ritual slapping a divination on them will probably let them kill the intercepting first quicker and get through the legions of baloony faster.
There are advantages to both.
- Location
- USA
Thats why I have the seers helping AO and Areatha while Ridcully helps stall the exalted. The amount of time ridcully could buy stalling is probably more than the amount of time needed reduced which isnt a guarantee so I compromised with the Seers.
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Breaking Through
Doomed Wombat
Let's go Darling!
- Location
- Dancing on wires!
Breaking Through
A mere hour after the First Circle had performed its benighted ritual, the duo of Ancient One and Areatha came upon the drained Exalted, creeping above it clad in illusion and guided by the Eldest's millions of years of knowledge in stealth craft.
There the First knelt, visibly exhausted, the great golden creature breathing heavily, the flames of its blade guttering as it tried to hold back the attacks of the World, placing the last parts of its energy into fulfilling its master's absolute orders.
And so they were to finish the job and remove the impediment that prevented the world from focusing its wrath upon the other Daemon that was even now attempting to snuff out the last of the Anathame's light.
The Ancient One struck first, his spear flung towards the First as it wearily raised its arm to block, its remaining Guards distracted by a sudden abyss of darkness that opened beneath them, tendrils of shadow lashing from the earth to ensnare them, the darkness utterly inimitable to their light as they tried to wrench themselves free.
The thrown spear clashed with the burning blade and despite the difference in size between them it was not the spear that was cast aside, but the sword, the divinely blessed object visibly cracked.
But, it had served its duty, the spear's momentum had been halted, not that this mattered much, for the Eldest could always return to the weapon that had been his for millions of years, the scarred form easily leaping into the air to snatch it as he dove towards the reeling Angyl, skidding down the cracked blade, ignoring the flames that still burned hot enough to set worlds a blaze.
As the remaining bodyguards pulled themselves loose Areatha unleashed her next series of attacks upon them as they found themselves spontaneously forced together via attractive forces, the concepts that made them up manipulated to send them sprawling into each other like pin balls, collapsing in undignified piles of limbs while the Ancient One at last entered dueling range of the Exalted.
Any semblance of honour that some might have given to the First Circle was gone, for honour is meaningless to the forces of Chaos. Instead the Ancient One got in as close as he could to the Angyl, his smaller size and peerless skill allowing him to use his abilities to their full extent as wounds opened all across the Angyl's pearlescent flesh, allowing the true corruption and vilness that hid beneath to flow forth, and as the desperate creature fought the few times it was able to actually clash with the Ancient One it found itself completely outclassed, its strength, nothing compared to the Lizard, its skill naught.
Only its phenomenal power would have given it a fighting chance, and its power had been drained away long before.
It's only hope lay in its guards who fought now with Areatha, distracting, confusing and harassing them as she thinned their numbers one by one until at last none remained.
As the last of its Guard's fell the Angyl made a snap decision. It could not defeat these two, not as it was. But it would ensure that they would not be able to reach its siblings in time.
Hiding its act carefully from the both of them, it began to gather its power for a final cataclysmic burst. The attempt may banish it from the materium for a thousand years, maybe longer, but it would be worth it to ensure the success of its mission.
But, before it could even begin its suicidal attempt, Areatha felt a presence within her mind, the touch of the Eldar Farseers ordered to assist them, who in a moment of genius had noticed First's decision seconds before it had begun.
Unable to contact the Ancient One as his mind resisted any and all warp based methods of communication unless he accepted them and lost in the depths of combat as he was this was not an option. Instead they had contacted her alone and she relayed the news to him.
With satisfaction they waited until the Angyl had gone so far into this attempt that it could not abort it, before they turned tail and fled past it, chasing its sibling as it gazed in horrified fear as the explosion it had created from its remaining power created a second molten waste in the midst of the Avernus Spine.
@Durin
A thing I'm not even sure why I wrote it of all things.
A mere hour after the First Circle had performed its benighted ritual, the duo of Ancient One and Areatha came upon the drained Exalted, creeping above it clad in illusion and guided by the Eldest's millions of years of knowledge in stealth craft.
There the First knelt, visibly exhausted, the great golden creature breathing heavily, the flames of its blade guttering as it tried to hold back the attacks of the World, placing the last parts of its energy into fulfilling its master's absolute orders.
And so they were to finish the job and remove the impediment that prevented the world from focusing its wrath upon the other Daemon that was even now attempting to snuff out the last of the Anathame's light.
The Ancient One struck first, his spear flung towards the First as it wearily raised its arm to block, its remaining Guards distracted by a sudden abyss of darkness that opened beneath them, tendrils of shadow lashing from the earth to ensnare them, the darkness utterly inimitable to their light as they tried to wrench themselves free.
The thrown spear clashed with the burning blade and despite the difference in size between them it was not the spear that was cast aside, but the sword, the divinely blessed object visibly cracked.
But, it had served its duty, the spear's momentum had been halted, not that this mattered much, for the Eldest could always return to the weapon that had been his for millions of years, the scarred form easily leaping into the air to snatch it as he dove towards the reeling Angyl, skidding down the cracked blade, ignoring the flames that still burned hot enough to set worlds a blaze.
As the remaining bodyguards pulled themselves loose Areatha unleashed her next series of attacks upon them as they found themselves spontaneously forced together via attractive forces, the concepts that made them up manipulated to send them sprawling into each other like pin balls, collapsing in undignified piles of limbs while the Ancient One at last entered dueling range of the Exalted.
Any semblance of honour that some might have given to the First Circle was gone, for honour is meaningless to the forces of Chaos. Instead the Ancient One got in as close as he could to the Angyl, his smaller size and peerless skill allowing him to use his abilities to their full extent as wounds opened all across the Angyl's pearlescent flesh, allowing the true corruption and vilness that hid beneath to flow forth, and as the desperate creature fought the few times it was able to actually clash with the Ancient One it found itself completely outclassed, its strength, nothing compared to the Lizard, its skill naught.
Only its phenomenal power would have given it a fighting chance, and its power had been drained away long before.
It's only hope lay in its guards who fought now with Areatha, distracting, confusing and harassing them as she thinned their numbers one by one until at last none remained.
As the last of its Guard's fell the Angyl made a snap decision. It could not defeat these two, not as it was. But it would ensure that they would not be able to reach its siblings in time.
Hiding its act carefully from the both of them, it began to gather its power for a final cataclysmic burst. The attempt may banish it from the materium for a thousand years, maybe longer, but it would be worth it to ensure the success of its mission.
But, before it could even begin its suicidal attempt, Areatha felt a presence within her mind, the touch of the Eldar Farseers ordered to assist them, who in a moment of genius had noticed First's decision seconds before it had begun.
Unable to contact the Ancient One as his mind resisted any and all warp based methods of communication unless he accepted them and lost in the depths of combat as he was this was not an option. Instead they had contacted her alone and she relayed the news to him.
With satisfaction they waited until the Angyl had gone so far into this attempt that it could not abort it, before they turned tail and fled past it, chasing its sibling as it gazed in horrified fear as the explosion it had created from its remaining power created a second molten waste in the midst of the Avernus Spine.
@Durin
A thing I'm not even sure why I wrote it of all things.
