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This article, Devastation of Shuira, was written by T42, Plaguenumber3, and 40kfan. Please do not edit this article without their explicit permission.
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"The night lit up, plasma fire, gauss flayers, bolterfire. We prayed and prayed, but all that awnsered them were things from the stars... dark things... deadly things."
—A Shuira PDF survivor

Shuira was a night world of little renown, home to an average population and out of the path of most Imperial trade routes. However it was home to various dark secrets, the foremost being a Chaotic artifact of great power, and the dark warband of Traitors, the Archfeinds would descend for it. But they were not the only ones seeking the relic, the renowned Gem-Heart Thief, Berheven Jirlis who was being sought by Blackteef Tribe orks and Keshke'Hwa Dynasty Warriors.  Meanwhile emerging from the shadows for unrelated reasons the Dimir would descend upon Shuira causing destruction and furthering the Dangers to the escaping thief and his various pursuers.

Chapter One: Da Blasta

"C'mon ya gitz! Git da rokkz flyen and blast dem umies!" Tuska Face'Melta roared as his Kill Krooza came out of the Warp, knowing the world they were descending upon was likely to have defenders, and the Undaboss wanted to cut off any hope of his foes fleeing. Tuska picked his blacktoothed maw with a stray squig bone from the simple scrap plate that lay on the small table next to his command throne at the brinde of the Krooza. "Of all da zoggen roks..." he started as the cracked and static ridden view-screen showed the meager Imperial fleet against the backdrop of a pitch black night world. The star system istelf was very dim and bleak, it looked dead, depressing. "'Ow com we neva get ter fight on a tek wurld er sumthen?" Tuska murmered to himself, it had been too long since he and his boyz had enjoyed a real fight, every time a WAAAGH! rolled around the Masta would stick him and his boyz on some posh side job.

"Bekauz ur lot ain't ment fer propa fighten." Tuska almost jumped out of his throne, it was the Lu-Tenent, Bommchompa. The Masta's right hand Ork and the reason Tuskas boyz were relegated to sacking this world. Under any normal circumstances, Tuska would have beaten the over-sized Nob silly for that remark, but Bommchompa was the personal hitman of the Masta, the great Ork Warlord of the genious Blackteef Tribe. Rather than the traditional beating, Tuska merely snorted "Wacha meen?!" Bommchompa merely rolled his beedy red eyes and clacked his two metal jaws together. Tuskas patience was wearing thin with this Nob, first he commendeers his fleet, leads them on a wild goose chace through space, first a desert world, then a volcainic death world, the list went on and on, and NOW he had the nerve to insult his crew? Tuska hauled himself out of the throne, his armored bulk on full display. "Wacha...Meen?" He said with a threatening tone, looming over the Blitz Git. Bommchompa stared the Undaboss down, rolled his thick, muscular shoulders and simply headbutted him. The crack made every Ork on the bridge freeze, they were dumbstruck, nobody messed with Tuska, he was one of the most brutal Blackteef Orkz in existance. And yet here was this Nob, one of the Mastas favorites but nonetheless a Nob, who had just headbutted the Undaboss with such force that he tumbled head over heels.

"I said, ur lot ain't ment fer propa fighten, yer a bunch a dumb gitz betta at dis grot wurk. Now yer gonna take dat rok and ur gonna gimme az many boyz az I need, ur I'ma sock ya so 'ard yur gonna ferget what itz like ta 'ave teef. Yeah?"

Tuska slowly righted himself, and grudgingly nodded and grunted "Yeah". Bomchommpa took his leave, moving with near perfect scilence, odd for a creature with such bulk. Tuska retook his throne and glared at the planet, all his anger and hate at being stuck with the grunt work now focused on the black little world. "ALRIGHT YOU ZOGGEN GROT LUVERZ!" He bellowed "GIT ON DAT ROK AND TEAR DA 'OL PLACE APART!!!"

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Bommchompa looked over the crumpled peice of paper, the order that had been handed to him at least eighty years ago, but Orkz have a very skewed sence of time, thus to Bomchommpa, it was as if he had gotten it only yesterday. He understood the need for secrecy as he read it, the Masta rarely sent written missives, but zog if this one wasen't important. 'First Lu-Tenent Bommchompa,' The Nob read the words once more, scrawled in an Ork dialect nearly indesipherable by any other race or Klan. 'It haz com to my attention dat my Kustom Blasta, Blaststick, haz been kidnapped by filty Eldar skum. Find dis zoggen, pointey eared, poshed up, panzy and perferat 'em!'... 'P.S. Don ferget to git Blaststick bak too!' Bommchompa silently nodded, as if to assure himself that the deed will soon be done. He had hunted that blasted eldar across the stars with nothing more but this band of impudent fools, an achievement worthy of praise in Bommchompas eyes. Tuskas boyz may be tough, but Bommchompa, by proxy through the Masta, never felt they were particularly good at being Blackteef. They were too zealous and dumb to be truly tactical or stealthy, still, they had their uses on the side campaigns.

Bommchompa then hurried to the hangars, strapping on his massive plasma powered jump pack and charging his kustom blasta. Finally, he unsheathed his massive power sword he had tied to his waist, it was a crude looking weapon, warped and pitted, but the loud thrum meant it was ready to chop whole Space Marines in half.

It was chaos in the hangar, boyz and their nobs running left and right, piling into whatever transportation could carry them. Engeineer grots scampered to and fro, ensuring nothing had a chance to fall apart until it got to the surface. Bommchompa waded through the sea, backhanding the occasional boy who didn't get out of his way fast enough, he passed a mob of Blitz Boyz, marching in single file onto their dropship. Bommchompa then found them, his personal mob of Blitz Gitz, the four massive nobs were busy kicking a small grot around in a circle. "Oi!" Bommchompa shouted over the din of the hangar, the Blitz Gitz all turned to face him, then nodded in unison, understanding that now was the time. They all piled onto the nearest dropship, a Minelayer that had been gutted to carry boyz instead. They yanked out the mob that had already taken up the spot and piled in.

"Remeba da objektiv boyz." Bommchompa growled "Get da blasta, da rest iz optional."

Chapter Two: Archite's Arrival

"Arriving at Shuira, Archite Ka'lah'ar'shar." ringed the monotonous voice from the Voidcraft's center Dimir as the Voidcraft exited it's shutter-lane. "Primitive Voidcraft detect Archite, origins indicate Orkoids" spoke the blank voice as the Dimir auspexs scanned the Orkoid Kill Krooza. "Auspexs indicate it's class is Cruiser, with vast amounts of armor and weaponry" the voice spoke as Archite Ka'lah'ar'shar tapped his long bladed claws against his command chair before speaking "Alkaira, begin a scanning of the planet I wish to know it's population and general statics". At those words Alkaira, the Dimir controlling the ship, began to scan the planet for any piece of information it could pick up while the Ship's crew began to move into action without a word.

The Hell Legion stationed within the Dimir Dreadnought began to prepare themselves for the upcoming engagement. The hugemongus Golems moving slowly placing their gigantic equipment upon their metal hides, as slashers sharpened their claws against their arms, and shredders prepared their render weaponry. "Archite Kal'lah'ar'shar, the auspexs have finished scanning the planet, and the data is now transferring  to your private data banks". 

As the data transferred to the Archite's data banks Ka'la'ar'shar began to speak to his entire crew through the ship's speakers.

"My fellow Dimir, long have we forgotten the pains of flesh, long have we used our bio-engines to fuel our war engines and our great forges of art, and now our engines are running dry and I ask you one question. Will you let them fall and rot or will you descend upon this world and teach the flesh beings that the Dimir will not stand idle like they do as their God decays upon a throne of blood and gore. LET OUR MOTHER DIMIRA STAND ETERNAL AS OUR BIO-ENGINES SHALL AFTER WE EMPTY THIS WORLD OF IT'S MISUNDERSTOOD POTENTIAL!"

With those words, the Dimir Hell Legions began the process of descending down upon the fleshling, their blood ichor boiling with the fever of zealotic rage and fury.

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Disconnecting from his Command Chair, Archite Ka'la'ar'shar slowly made his way down into the bowels of Alkaira. Descending into the great armories of the Voidcraft, Ka'la'ar'shar prepared himself for warfare and to address his Warraak before they descended. As he strapped on his wargear the dull voice of Alkaira rang out

"Archite Ka'la'ar'shar, the auspexes have detected numerous signals erupting from the planet and the void surrounding it". Glancing upward at the ceiling the Archite finished his wargear and began to move to the gigantic hangers where his Warraak awaited his commands, "Explain". 

"The auspexes have detected numerous Necrontyr Signals with a great deal of radioactive trails around them, indicating some form of radiation weaponry. While in the void our scanners have detected very inconsistent fluxes, indicating Chaotic Forces. Advised actions are to halt the deployment until the last moment to gain the advantage, but secondary advise states we should launch as soon as possible to gain the territorial advantage" explained the Voidcraft as it's scanners continued to work upon both the planet and the void around it.

Ignoring Alkaira as he entered the Hanger, the Archite began to type into the computer system upon his wrist. With a sudden twisted version of life, the entire hanger became a vortex of energy and motion. The Warraak continued to ready themselves for skirmish, the Dimirian Vehicles began to act upon their own charging their reactors and their wargear. 

Assured that his forces would be ready to descend upon the planet at any moment, the Archite gathered his elites and entered his private craft.

Chapter 3: Awakening

"Establishing Trans-space connection...Connection established. Requesting Permission to launch Raid. awaiting response."

For Sixty years Lord Herakvan waited, the outpost that he had prepared, near invisible within the deep forests of the world. A forest which was fearfully avoided by the superstitious mortals. For sixty years his twenty Immortals stood resolute and unchanging as they oversaw the various Siege Drones and Watchers who worked on the hidden fortress. For Sixty years only five Guardians stood in defense of the raid lord of the Keshke'Hwa.

"Trans-space response received. Objective: Tech-reliquary, priority downgraded to Secondary Objective...New Primary Objective: Subject: Eldar-Berheven Jirlis, Mission: Capture-Dead-or-Alive. Full use of force permitted."

Instantly the long awaited protocols were activated with the response from the Dynasty's Phaeron. Herakvan and his twenty-five warriors began to activate sixty year dormant systems and for the first time in each of those years began to move for themselves. Weapons were given power, and as lethal autolysis radiation leaked from the weapons used by Mechanical warriors the plant-life that had overgrown the Necron's hidden fortress began to foam and die further freeing and easing the movements of the long unmoving Necron.

The night once again was Moonless and Starless, the only light to see by was that emitted by the Necron themselves, though Necron needed no light by which to see. Slowly the task-force of twenty-five necron, their lord, and the dozens of Siege Scarabs and Watcher Drones around them made for the first Mortal encampment. It was a poorly built fortress with over-thick and short walls with far too many blind points in the defense, currently torch bearing defenders marched along the perimeter of the defenses futilely seeking any invaders...Herakvan would take this fortress slowly for the sake of the needed practice.

The defenders upon the walls proved as ineffective as Herakvan had predicted. It was not until the Watcher Drones and their Gauss Blasters were already descending upon the Sentries that the frail mortals even realized that an enemy had besieged their settlement. While an last moment alarm was raised by the las-gun and musket wielding troops upon the walls the hastily awoken defenders grabbing whatever weapons they could proved near useless against the flying assailants. And as the mortals wasted their efforts against the simple war-machines, Siege Scarabs used their abilities to burrow through the walls of the fortress silently creating a passage for their Necron masters to enter the mortals pitiful defenses. Once inside the Immortals set to their task, slowly entering the unguarded homes of the defenders and turning their Autolysis rifles against the defenseless non-combatants within.

The battle was finished in short order and a low probability shot had resulted in the only damage the Necron had suffered, a single disabled Siege Scarab. The defenders had only realized far too late that the Necron themselves had bypassed their futile wall and attacked their reserves and reproductive forces, and by the time they had realized their vulnerable reserves had been decimated the Immortals were already turning their weapons against them. With a simple glance over what remained of the battle Herakvan took account of the defensive standard this world provided. The defenders would take more time killing than it would take his forces to tear down their defenses. However for the sake of the reliquary and the primary objective he would have to ignore the defenders in favor of rapidly advancing upon the long abandoned pyramid where the Primary Objective was most likely to be.

"Forward, to the temple. We shall eliminate the animals after fulfilling priority objective. Let nothing stand in my way." With that the Necron set upon their steady march, gunning down any survivors or other creatures that would stand in their path.

Chapter 4: Doom has Come

Adros Kanar, Dark Apostle of the Archfiends, looked upon a soon to be dead world. From the bridge of his Strike Cruiser, the Blasphemer, the planet seemed almost peaceful, still unaware of the impending doom that would befall it. Adros could picture it: the shouts and screams of the dying mortals, the sweet music of blade and bolt connecting with flesh, the shouts of his warriors as they sang praise to the Dark Gods. It would glorious, it would be-

"My lord." said Tamik Sryn, his right hand and Sorcerer of the Archfiends 5th Host. Tamik was a figure of rune-carved power armor and dark robes, his face obscured by the folds of his hood. "Everything is in place, we can launch the attack at your command."

"Look at that planet Tamik, and tell me what you see." replied Adros, gesturing at the planet below.

Tamik stared at lone shape of the Night World for a moment, before saying; "I see the location of the relic we seek."

"Wrong!" answered Adros, rising from his command throne. "I see a world that does not yet know true power, the true power of the Gods! They remain blind, ignorant, unaware of the power that lurks beyond the veil of reality. I see a world that is in need of enlightenment.... and who are we to deny them that?"

Tamik simply shrugged, knowing better than to argue with the zealous Apostle. "Shall I ready the troops...?"

Adros grinned maliciously. The leader of the 5th Host was a formidable figure, standing at almost nine feet tall, clad in ornate power armor decorated with symbols and icons of the Chaos Gods, a cloak of flayed skin hanging from his shoulders. He wore no helmet, and thus his nightmarish face was visible, a mess of unholy tattoos and ritual scars, with a pair of eyes that looked as if they could burn through adimantium. His weapon, a mace with a head forged into the shape of the Star of Chaos, hung from his belt, a symbol of his rank and authority over his fellow Chaos Space Marines.

"Today we go to war!" Adros yelled, his voice like stone grating on steel. "Today we are the doom of Shuria!"

Chapter Five: Da Hunt

The rokks howled into the atmosphere, burning a blood red in the pitch black skies, like crimson scars. Bommchompa took this in, he considered the hue a good omen. He then returned to his work, moving though the dark foliage with his mob, already the sounds of war distantly roared and the flashes of plasma fire and lasgun lit up the horizon. But Bommchompa was not interested in the battle, he and his mob made their way to the ruin that sat at the heart of this black forest. For beasts of such bulk the Blitz Gitz moved with the scilence of a pack of nocturnal hunters, the only sound they made was the light hum of their jump packs and plasma cannons.

They reached the clearing, and before them loomed a sizable pyramid, sleek and elegant in its design, it was here Bommchompa was sure they would find their quarrey. "Alright ya gitz." Bommchompa whispered, "Set up a permyter, and wait fer da eldar, don't move till he gose inside."

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Berheven rushed into the pyramid, he knew he had to make tracks. Usually an Ork Fleet coming into a system wouldn't alarm him, he could easily sneak past them and his ship was designed for getting in and out of block-aided worlds, but he had glimpsed the green brutes in battle with the Mon-Keigh PDF and knew that they didn't come all this way just to raid a no account Night World... the Blackteef never wasted a raid on a planet without enough tech. That is, unless they were after him. Ever since he nicked that Warlords plasma cannon (a feat considering that it could have been mounted on a tank) the Orks goons had been chasing him all over the galaxy, most of the time Breheven could easily outpace them or send them in the wrong direction with hilarious results, but this wasn't one of those times.

Berheven easily slipped past the ancient booby traps, disarming them so his trip out would be all the faster. The pyramid was clearly tainted by chaos, the very walls oozed with dark energy, and the statues of Thousand Sons Chaos Marines told that this place was once a place of sorcery and evil. Of course Berheven knew well that those were far from statues, and that he would need to move quickly the moment he laid his hands on the relic he sought.

The Gem Heart Thief finally made it into the center of the pyramid, and before him sat the relic, to the untrained eye it was merely a pendent, a simple looking trinket, even as it floated in the air, powered by some unseen energy. But Berheven felt the daemonic aura seething from it, he would have to be extremely careful. He tiptoed his way to the relic, noting the sheer drop on either side of the path, he accidentally sent a small piece of gravel to its doom as his toe bumped into it, and he watched with some dread as it plummeted into the void. But soon he was at his prize, he quickly scanned the pedestal for any arcane traps, though he had a feeling those Rubric Marines would awaken the moment this relic left its pedestal, he was also sure that he shouldn't directly place his hands on the amulet, as dark voices already echoed in his head from the simple proximity. He took out the special device he had had hand made by his Dark Eldar benefactors in Commoragh, removing two black hemispheres from his modest backpack, he carfully moved them to both sides of the pendant. He drew a deep breath, "Ok Berheven," he whispered "Easy, easy." Slowly he slid the hemispheres over the relic, the daemonic voices went silent the moment the two halves became whole. He quickly moved to place the shpere in his backpack when he heard the hum of a plasma gun being brought up to full power. "Damn!" he cursed under his breath as he raised his hands.

"Beven iz it?" A deep, growling voice, snarled from behind him. "Well actually its pronounced Berh-" "Shuddup!" The chamber resounded with the sound of Eldar skull meeting the butt of a Nob scaled plasma rifle. Berheven fell to the floor, trying to refocus his now blurred vision, he rolled over to see his assailents, and immidately wished he haden't. Before him loomed a massive Ork, battle scared and well muscled. His small, murderous red eyes leered at him from their perch above the Orks massive steel jaws. Behind him stood four Nobs of simmilar sizes, each brandising a massive plasma weapon and covered in an odd dust, most likely the remaines of those inactive Rubric Marines. Berheven coulden't beleive the band of brutes had snuck up on him!

The Ork effortlessly lifted Berheven up by the throat, holding him aloft like a child would with a doll. "You got somethin what don't belong ta ya." "Well there are alot of things I've stolen, your not being terribly specifi-" "SHUDDUP!" the Orks green fist collided with Berhevens shapely jawline. "Da Masta's Blasta, we know ya took it, and we wantz it back. Tell us were ya stashed it and mabey I let ya crawl outta here wit a few broken bonez, yeah?" "Well, your generious for an Ork, but  I'll have to decline. You see, I know your not stupid enough to kill me before you get that cobbled together monsterosity, and I also know your not dumb enough to let me live after I've given it to you. Its lose-lose, and I never lose." The Ork brought the Eldar dangerously close to his metal maw, "Iz dat so?" Berheven merely nodded and grined with wolfish delight, rubbing in his victory over the brute. "Datz a real shame, considerin da ship we found not to far frum 'ere. Akorden to da squighounds, it smellz alot like Eldar." Berheven's heart sunk, the Ork had to be bluffing! "Not just any Eldar mind ya," the still organic corners of the Orks mouth turned up in a cruel smile "Held onta doz houndz for sum time, but dey could smell yer sorry carcas frum da ova side ov dis rok." If this was a bluff, it had to be the best one Berheven had ever heard from an Ork!

"Too bad really, I waz looken forward ta maken ya soft in da 'ead, guess I'll just settle fer grinden ya bonez, yeah?" The Ork raised his massive fist. Suddenly bolter fire rang out, one of the Nobs roared in agony as bolters tore into his armor and flesh, but in true Ork fashion he merely whirled around and opend fire on his assailent. Bommchompa too turned to see that all the commotion was, taking his eyes from the Eldar he held aloft, what greeted him was not the best of sights. Chaos Marines, bearing the black symbol of Chaos Undivided and clad in blood red armor, their helms a golden hue that had long been stained with blood, skulls and skin adorned their armor, and their cruel weapons were twisted into various terrfying forms. "FOR THE FINAL GLORY OF CHAOS!" One of them shouted, "GLORY TO THE ARCHFEINDS!" Roared another.

Berheven took his chance, quickly snatching up the dagger he kept at his waist (one of many) and driving it as deep as he could into the Orks meaty arm, being sure to get at the tendons that kept his hand clenched on his throat. The Ork let him loose and recoiled in surprise, Berheven then cought the side of the walkway as the beast released him, and wasted no time in hauling himself up. Bommchompa moved to stomp the Eldar but the Gem Heart Theif narrowly rolled out of the way, snatching up his backpack and the sphere. Bommchompa drew his Plasma Rifle from its sling and leveled it at Berheven, only to blow the pedistal behind the Eldar to smitherines as Berheven slid under the Orks legs.

One of the Chaos Marines, the leader, judging from the amount of skulls he had mounted on his backpack spikes, noted the lack of the artifact, his eyes then fell on the Eldar. He sprinted forward, killing one of the Nobs with his daemon axe, cleaving through the beasts skull. "THE ELDAR HAS THE RELIC! KILL HI-" The Chaos Marines cries were cut short as Beheven fired off a few rounds from his splinter rifle, opening up several wounds on the right flank of the Chaos Marines chest, delaying his axe swing long enough for him to duck under it. The Chaos Marine whriled around, drawing his bolt pistol, "DIE ELDRITCH SC-AHHHHUG!" Bommchompa shoved the Chaos Marine to his doom, charging after the fleeing eldar. Berheven lept over the three remaining Nobs, and landed before a massive Chaos Marine. The twisted warrior lifted his thunder hammer high, only to have a massive burst of plasma strike him down.

"Boss!" One of the Nobs yelled as one of their number was brought down by bolter fire, his body sliding off the walkway, "We ain't got no cova!"

Bommchompa brought down yet another Chaos Marine with a burst from his Plasma Rifle, "Dey ain't got not cova eitha! Just get dat Eldar!"

Berheven weaved his way through the Chaos Marines, thankful for the Orks poor marksmenship as yet another one of the Warp tainted brutes fell under their plasma fire. Berheven came to his last obstical, this Chaos Marine bore twin power claws, and his Terminator armored bulk blocked him completely, "NOWHERE TO RUN NOW, WEAKLING!" he bellowed, swinging his right claw, Berheven lept at the Terminators arm, grabbing hold as it swung past him, for a moment he closed his eyes as he flew over the open void that lay below him, he felt the Terminators weight shift off center, felt the momentum, he let go. The inerta swung him to the entrance of the chamber, he didn't look back but he heard the Terminators wrathfilled cry as he plumeted down to his death. He sprinted, hearing Bommchompa yelling for his nobs to push on and the sound of heavy footfalls behind him, knowing the Chaos Marines were giving chace. As he ran, Berheven realized just how lucky he was.... however this glimmer was cut to a short lived light in a dark cave when Berheven found himself entangled in a life or death struggle alongside the PDF patrol he had been using to escort himself to safety by posing as a wounded noble.

Chapter 6: Embrace the Daemon

Tythor scoweled as he looked down into the bottomless pit that surrounding the chamber. Not even Kopos, tough bastard though he was, could have survived a fall like that. Looking up from the pit, he could not beleive that the Orks had escaped, their leader using his jump pack to ram his way through the Chaos Marines ranks, regardless three of the five fell beineith their migth. The air in the chamber already stank of dead xenos, and if things couldn't get any worse, it seemed that the fool Ateric was taking command after their leader's death. Tythor shouldered his way through his brothers, who were gathered around Ateric, who was busy revealing his "master plan" to the rest of the squad.

Ateric adressed the rest of the Archfiends like a taskmaster adressing his slaves. "We need to regroup with the rest of the force, and inform Lord Adros-"

"Inform him of what?" said Tythor, cutting the fool off mid-sentance. "Last I checked, Adros isn't exactly one to forgive failure."

Ateric looked at him as if he were naieve, a smile dancing across his thin lips. Ateric never wore a helm, exposing his unblemished face for all to see, as if he that justified his authority any more than it did already. Tythor had hated him, for while Ateric was a decent fighter, he knew full well he was only interested in personal gain, and no doubt if they returned to Lord Adros, he would most likely pin the blame of loosing the artifact on Tythor and his squad.

"Weakling." he said straight to the fool's face, marching forwards.

Ateric place a hand on the hilt of his power sword. "Are you threatening- BLAGH."

Ateric never got the time to finish the sentace, as Tythor had drew his combat knife and jammed it into Ateric's unprotected throat. Rich astates blood flowed over his gaunleted hand, as he dug the blade deeper and deeper. Without another word, Tythor withdrew his knife, and kicked Ateric's still-warm corpse over into the pit, watching as it plummeted into the depths of the planet.

Turning to adress his squad, Tythor yelled for all to hear, "The Dark Gods book no weaklings among their servant's ranks, and neither shall I!" He raised his blood-soaked knife, his gaunlet stained a deep crimson. "Anyone else wish to be made an example?"


The night lit up with bolterfire and plasma blasts as Orks and Archfiends waged war against one another.

Daemos buried his chainaxe in the skull of one Ork foolish enough to come within stiking distance, reveling in the sweet sound of adimantium teeth sawing through flesh and bone. He and his brothers had run into a group of Orks while leading the vanguard of the assault on Shuria. Daemos had almost cried out in joy when he spoted the Orks, for while slaughtering the defenseless citizens of Shuria was all well and good, enemies who could fight back were much more fun. Daemos' thoughts were interupted by another Ork, swinging an jagged blade that crackled and sparked with a primitive powerfield. Daemos simply sidesteped the clumsy attack, and pressing the activation rune of his chainaxe, sawed through one of the greenskin's stumpy legs, enjoying the sight of stream of blood that jetted out of the stump.

The Ork hobbled back towards him, still intent on attacking him dispite its severed limb. Daemos sidesteped it once more, kicking the xeno to the ground with the same movement. Drawing his Bolt Pistol, he pressed it up against the greenskin's thick temple, firing a single shot point blank. Brains and blood flew everywhere as the bolt round detonated, decorating Daemos' crimson and bone armor with gore. Having had his fun, Daemos turned his attention to the other Orks, only to watch as a miasma of warp energy lit up the darkness. Sevral Orks died on the spot from sheer exposure to the energy, their bodies turning inside-out, organs and bones spilling out onto the blood-soaked ground.

The Archfiends merely cheered and resumed their attack with greater ferocity, the miasma leaving them unaffected. Out of the corner of his eye, Daemos could make out the robed form of the Sorcerer Tamik, his force staff seething with unholy power. Good for him to come, so long as he dosen't steal all the kills, thought Daemos, even as he evicerated another ork. Then, suddenly, Daemos noticed a strange flicker behind one of his brothers, like a trick of the light. In another moment, there was a flash, a sound like a blade being slowing withdrawn from it's sheath, and the Archfiend crumpled to the ground, cut into two neat pieces. Daemos fired a volley of bolts at the spot where his brother had fallen, one of the bolts connecting with something. A hazy outline of a figure started to appear, like the after-image of a hologram, and solidified, revealing the strangest creature Daemos had ever seen.

It was a thin ceature, standing at about six feet tall, and covered in a insect-like carapace of armor. The fingers on one of it's hands had been replace with long, wicked looking blades, it's other arm ending in some sort of gun-like weapon. It's face was just a smooth, white mask, with two eye-holes that burned a sinister orange color. Without a word, the creature raised it's blade-fingers to the sky, and other similar looking creatures burst from the surounding forest like wraiths, silent and deadly. The battle became three-sided as the wraith-things attacked, their strange guns releasesing not bullets, but clouds of strange substance that chewed through power armor and flesh alike with comtemptous ease.

Daemos simply activated his chainaxe and charged towards the nearest Wraith-Thing, screaming praise to the Dark Gods.

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Blood.

It could smell blood.

A grotesque creature loped through the darkness, it's monsterous form concealed by the dim light. It had been sent ahead by the Apostle, Adros, to recover the relic in case Kopos and his squad failed to do so. Already it could hear the voice of the relic coursing through it's mind, but something was off, the voice was muffled, distant, as if something was surpressing it. It snarled, it's low growl like a small thunderclap. Following the smell of blood, the creature stopped suddenly, sniffing the air. Turning to it's right, it could see the bulk of a dead Ork, it's blood still fresh, partially obscured by the bush in which lay. Several small disk-like blades stuck out of the corpse's chest, obviously the cause of the Greenskin's demise.

The creature snarled again, it reconized those blades. Pulling one out the Ork's broad chest with a clawed hand, the creature inspected the disk of metal in the lying palm of it's hand. Memories, that of it's flesh-host, raced through it's head.

Fighting under a blood-red sky, the dust of the landscape clinging to his armor. Brightly colored warriors with pointed ears and elfin faces pointed their disk-throwing guns at him-

The creature pulled itself out of his host's mind, it's clawed hand closing around the Shurikan.

Eldar.

Chapter Seven: A Mockery of Life

Rayes was the average boy who lived in an average, if boring, town. He worked in the fields everyday with his Father and his siblings, while in his free time he would sky gaze looking up at the stars wondering what was beyond the Void. Though he could rarely sky gaze as his time was ever consumed by his work, and his job as babysitter for his youngest siblings.

It was the average day, or night as many would call it, Rayes was feeding the animals while his siblings planted crops or picked flowers for their sick mother. Suddenly the animals screeched and scattered like the wind as orange lightning flashed across the skies. Staring up with all the workers at these strange lightning bolts, Rayes was completely unsure of what to make of it. Suddenly out of nowhere large ships slide into sight, their armor dark and their payloads dropping.

In that moment Rayes saw the strangest thing he has ever seen. These creatures looked like a mockery of nature and life. Their metal hides black and insect-like, with their faces being smooth white masks with two eye sockets that burned with a ominous orange. The large creature stalked towards Rayes as the rest of the workers fled, it stood atleast six feet tall with large metal blades replacing where he assumed it's fingers should be. The creature yelled in some strange language as more of them appeared from no where. "Jarkai dima lakshaw vor raw". The creature hastily walked past Rayes as another creature picked the boy up and began to strangle him with it's long fingers.

The last thing the boy saw was his sick mother being gutted as she attempted to stop the creatures from taking him.

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Rayes soon woke up in a cold and dark cell. The air was heavy and strange dark clouds hung in the air as a constant buzzing sound ripped through the air. This constant sound was soon torn away by the pained screams of another captive. Turning his gaze to the right Rayes saw a male human, one he hadn't seen before mostly likely from another town, being torn apart. The metal arms of the creatures around him were poking and pulling out his organs only to place them within what appeared to be an empty creature. 

Rayes gagged and vomited all over the floor infront of him for nearly two mintues. The man's painful "end" seemed to last for hours, the man's screams only stopping after his throat began to bleed from all the screaming he was doing. Rayes cried and gagged as he watched the creatures attach ten tubes into the now full creature. Moments later the creature shot upwards, it's cold orange eyes looking around before it was pushed into a line of more of it's kind.

The Operators soon turned their evil eyes onto the crying boy. Opening his cell they dragged him to the same table the man was on before placing him down upon it and strapping him in. Rayes began screaming in terror the moment they strapped him in, he knew what his fate was. Torn apart and his organs used in one of these sick creatures. Faintly Rayes could hear the screams of other patients, though he couldn't tell if this was reality or just his psychi breaking under the stress. 

The Operators began by slicing the boys chest open, using various medical devices to keep the boy and his organs alive. They ripped through skin and muscle before reaching the ribcage, which they broke apart to gain easier access to the organs inside. They began with his non-vital organs first, taking them apart and placing them within the empty husk beside Rayes. Then they took out his vital organs and placed it within the Husk.

Rayes thought death was suppossed to be an end, but this wasn't an end. He could see nothing, hear nothing, taste nothing, feeling nothing, or smell nothing but in a flash his senses came back. Rayes' body shot up suddenly without him even wanting to. His gaze was tinted firey orange, and he could hear the Operators mumbling in that strange language of theirs. But... he could understand them. He attempted to move his body but he couldn't, couldn't even control where his gaze fell. Suddenly he began to move towards the Creature that was created from the Man before Rayes. And then as if it was just a simple thought, a simple notion. Rayes understood exactly where he was.

He screamed in absolute terror and agony, though no sound came from the blank faced Warraak.

Chapter Eight: Cut 'em Loose

"I'VE 'AD IT WIT DEZ ZOGGEN KLANKIEZ!" Tuska Flesh'Melta roared as his Kill Kroozer tore into yet the strange xenos vessles. The insectoid creatures had swarmed his fleet the moment he had engaged the Chaos forces. At first, Tuska relished in the battle, finally his boyz got some well earned combat! But as the battle thickend and more and more of his ships were either devouered by black clouds of nanites or ripped apart by daemonic torpedos his frustration overtook any feelings of excitement. No bones about it, he was losing. And Tuska was one sore loser.

His red, spiteful eyes fell on the largest ship in the xenos fleet, embroiled in a brutal exchange with a Chaos Cruiser. He watched as the Chaos vessle slowly cesed to exist, its hull disintagrating. Tuska was overwhelmed by rage, thinking of how many of his boyz had alredy died that way, pointlessly in the crowed corridors of their ships. "Cut 'em loose." The Undaboss said, perfectly clear. The Orks who had been scrambling on the bridge all froze, their eyes looking up to their leader in disbelief. "Y-ya don't mean..." One of the boyz stammered. "Ya don't mean Flamemaww right boss?" Another finished.

Tuska hurled himself at the two boyz, roaring with rage. He deftly caught them by the scruff of their necks and flung them into the veiwscreen, further cracking and distorting it as the slid back to the floor. "YES I MEAN FLAMEMAWW!"

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The Mindaz rushed down the cramped and scrapfilled corridors of the Krooza as it pitched and shook with each salvo that struck it. "Da boss haz lost 'iz bleeden 'ead!" One of them shouted as the neared the Weirdboy pens. Here, in these rubber padded cells the Madboyz and Weirdboyz of the warband were locked away until they were needed, but the Mindaz weren't after just any Weirdboy. The two shirked in their pace as they neared the cell at the end of the hallway, the lights flickered and an unnatral lambancy shone on the patchworked steel bulkheads. "Mabey we turn 'round? Tell da boss 'ez gone?" The other whispered as they neared the massive steel door, various warnings scawled onto the walls and door. For the longest time the two simply stood there, Orks could not feel fear, but at that very moment they were at their closest to it. The two Mindaz looked at one another, and immideatly began to play 'Dakka, Choppa, Fist" (Dakka beat Choppa, Choppa beat Fist, and Fist beat Dakka... the last one was often disputed.) Finally a winner was decided, the loser gulped... he slowly reached out his hand for the latch on the door... the sounds of manaical laughter filled the the Krooza as he neared the latch. Finally, with a loud shout he tore open the door, the two Mindaz dove into the cell and tackled the nearest figure to the ground, shouting and wrestling all the while. "WAIT WAIT WAIT!" One shouted, they froze, and horror came over boths faces as the realized they had tackled little more than a mop with a bucket for a base and a greatcoat thrown over it. Then the door slammed shut and they heard the sound of the lock, and the laughter filled the ship once more.

Flamemaww skipped merrly through the halls of the ship, cackling with glee. "Free! Free! We iz FREE!" He screamed as he ran past a mob of boyz, who immidately recognized him as the mad psyker who had brought both victory and ruin to the Warband in the past. They stood dumbstruck as he suddenly stopped, the Orkz dropped whatever they were holding and froze, unsure of what to do. Flamemaww began to mumble incoherently, slowly rising in tempo and speed until... "MORAKSHAZAM!" he cried as he spun around eyes flashing orange and red and lighting flying from his grubby fingertips. He cackled with glee as the boyz ran about, their trousers and shoes ablaze with warpfire. He then resumed to skipping along like a human schoogirl who had just fallen in love. However as he rounded the corner his manic smile was wiped from his face as he saw the looming form of Undaboss Tuska Face'Melta. "Gowin sumwere?" The Undaboss snarled, the Mindaz standing at his side had murder in their eyes. "Wellz y-y-ya s-s-s-see..." The Weirdboy began to back up and attempted to make a dash for it, only to bump into something solid and smeeling of chared cloathing. Flamemaww looked up to see a scorched and extremely angry Nob, flanked by his likewise enraged boyz. "Git 'em!" One of the Orkz shouted, and as one they dove at him. "LEMME GO! YA ALL GOTZ BRAIN LEECHEZ! GAAAAH!" The Weirdboy screeched as the lights began to flicker and arcs of green energy lept across the walls. "'Ez pitchen a fit boss!" The charred Nob shouted, stating the obvious. Tuska socked the Weirdboy square in the jaw with such force that he flew from the grasp of the mob, crashing into the floor and bouncing into a nearby bulkhead. A stunned scilence settled over the hallway. "Dere," Tuska growled, "Now hez not. Git 'em to da bridge."

Flamemaww stood shackled to the Undabosses command throne, looking out over the bringe, his eyes glowed with manic glee as he saw ship after ship fall beinith the guns of the Kill Kroozer, practically drooling at the veiwscreen when one of the Chaos vessles went up in a spectauclar explosion. "Oi!" The Undaboss brought Flamemaww from his stupor as he yanked on the shackle around his neck, hurling him backwards into the arm of the command throne. "Fokus!" Tuska glared at the Weirdboy, "I want ya ta kill dat ship dere!" Tuska thrust a grubby finger at the veiwscreen as the strange xenos ship came into focus. Flamemaww studied the ship for a few moments, absorbing its spiked, almost insectoid form. Suddenly he lept on the Undabosses lap, looking him unblinkingly in the eyes. "I needz two grotz, blue paint, and a creme filled squig pie! NOW!"

Tuska paced as the Weirdboy began his ritual, grimacing as Flamemaww bit the heads off both of the grots and spat them at the veiwscreen, the severed heads both hit square on the center of the alien ships image. The Weirdboy began to squeeze the beheaded grots, creating a circle of blood, he then set them down and snatched up the bucket of blue paint. He franticly splattered a strange, misshapen rune within the circle of blood, and then launched the empty bucket at the veiwscreen, shattering the very area the two heads had hit earlier. He then stuffed his face with the squig pie, getting more of it on his face than he did in his blacktoothed maw. Tuska cast a confused glare at the Weirdboy, who met his gaze and simply replied, "Snak brek." Understanding washed over Tuskas face and he gestured for Flamemaww to continue his ritual. At this the Ork shaman began to twirl, muttering incoherently and spraying Grot blood all over the bridge. His incoherent mumering became louder and faster, the tempo rising as the orkish energys welled up inside the Weirdboy. Green lighting arced all over the bridge, and the boyz all gathered close to Tuska, giving Flamemaww as wide a birth as possible. 

Suddenly, Flamemaww lept into the air, lighting coursing his body and sparking from his eyes as he screeched, "GORKASHABLAM!!!!!" From his maw fired a blast of empyran flames that bathed the veiwscreen. Then the ship went dark, the lights flickering, casting a hellsih glow on the bridge. Tuska looked on in awe, the display, weather it killed them all or the enemy, was surely spectacular. 

The fire slowly dissapaited and retreated into Flamemaww's mouth, and the Ork slowly drifted to the ground, landing on his rump and breathing heavily. The lights filckered back to life, revealing the boyz had all huddled around and behind Tuska, who promptly shooed them all back to their stations. The veiwscreen was burnt away, leaving the Orks unsure as to what was now happening outside of their ship. There was an uncomfortable scilence, nothing noticable happened for more than two minutes. "Well?" Tuska growled at the Weirdboy, taking three thunderous steps towards him.

"Uhhh...ummmm...giv it a minut!" Flamemaww squealed as Tuska raised his massive, green fist. Suddenly all were thrown back in a great lurch of motion. Tuska was pinned to the wall, a cackling Flamemaww glued to his chest by the g-force. "TOLDZ YAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!" 

The Kill Kroozer was wreathed in green energy as it lunged forth, racing at great speed twoards the Dimir ship. The collision roared thought the empty void of space as the Ork Krooza, unfazed by the Dimir vessles nanite sheilds, tore its foe in half as it raced through it.

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Bommchompa was hot on the Eldars heels, he rushed through the jungle, following the sent of the theif. "Killed my mob...wurfless buncha spikey gitz!" He cursed under his breath, lamenting the deaths of his Blitz Gitz, purely out of the inconvenience of negotiating a war-zone alone. Though he did feel a tinge of grief as he remembered Dugga, who had been slain by that damned Eldar. "I'll make 'em pay." He growled as he clutched his comrades lucky Mork totem, he had given it to Bommchompa with his last breath. Suddenly the darkness of the forest lit up, Bommchompa looked to the skies and coulden't beleive what he saw, the Undabosses Kill Kroozer, damaged and burninig up in the atmosphere as it hurtled to the ground. Bommchompa looked on as it struck the world, and sheilded his eyes from the massive blast that sent the leaves in the trees rattling. A great mushroom cloud, blood red and black, soared into the sky. The explosion cast maccab shadows all over the forest, revealing an abomination lurking within the undergrowth.

Bommchompa drew his power sword, and unslung his plasma rifle, holding it one handed. "So, ya gonna stand dere or get ta fighten?" He snarled over his shoulder. The Possessed Chaos Marine hissed and lunged forth, claws beared, crackling with daemonic energy, only to slice into thin air as the Ork lept into the skies with his jump pack. He alighted on the branch of a particularly hardy tree, and then launched himself at the Chaos Marine, bellowing with all his might and letting loose a volley of plasmafire. The blasts hit their mark, kicking up scorched dust and flaming flesh. Bommchompa flew into the smoke cloud, his blade cutting the smoke in twain and dissipating the cloud instantly. But to his surprise there was nothing, then dark daemonic laughter tore through the night sky. Bommchompa looked up as he saw the Possessed Chaos Marine falling upon him from the air, claws ready to rend flesh from bone. "Zoggen-!" Bommchompa exclamied as he lept to the side, barely doging the beasts strike. He saw the monsters wounds healing, the burns and scorch marks closing themselves up even as its yellow preditory eyes dug into the Nob, a savage grin of razor sharp teeth greeting the greenskins hateful glare. "Fancy fut wurk won't save ya fer long!" Bommchompa snarled. The daemonic beast laughed, like the sound of vairous horrors singing together in a morbid corus, "And what are you going to do greenskin? Bravado me to death?"

At this the Ork lunged forth, swinging his massive power sword in a wide arc. The Possessed Chaos Marine countered, blocking the blade with his claws and lashing out with his free hand. The attack tore a deep gash in Bommchompa's side, but not deep enough to warrent any serious damage. The Greenskin then stomped on the Chaos Marines knee, relishing as the bone and cremaite snaped and the limb bent at the wrong angle. The Chaos Marine hissed in pain and lunged forth on the broken limb, jaws open wide as it snapped at the Orks throat. Bommchompa socked the beast with a savage uppercut, causing its jaw to explode in a blast of jagged, serrated teeth. Some stray fangs dug into the Orks face, but he was unfazed as he lifted his sword high over his head for a finishing blow. Suddenly the Chaos Marines broken leg snapped into place, and swung low, knocking the Greenskin off his feet. Its clawed hand shot downward to decapitate the Ork, only to be caught in the Greenskins sweaty palm. A battle of strength ensued, neither buding, but the Possessed had the unatural strength of a deamon, and slowly the claws sank lower and lower to their goal. Just as the claws scraped their mark the Ork brought his knee up, smashing into the beasts brestplate with such force that the Possessed was lifted from the ground. The Ork then lashed out with the other foot, the steel toed boot crashing into the Chaos Marines face with bone crushing force.

The Daemonic beast roared with agony and rage as its skull attempted to mold itself back into place, Bommchompa saw his chance. The Ork lunged, blade ready to hew this monster in half. But as he flew, jump pack roaring, the Chaos Marine let a low cackle. Suddenly, looking out of one still functioning eye, the Chaos Marines wrists exploded with projectiles, shards of bone sharp enough to rip through Space Marine Power Armor. Bommchompa corrected his approch, dodging the cloud of death, but no less than twelve shards strruck true in the Orks flank. The Greenskin swung his blade as he passed his foe, cleaving its left arm from its body. The Ork steadied himself on his powersword, clutching his side with is free hand. The Possessed Chaos Marine, disembodied hand reforming as it charged and the last of its lower jaw setting back into place, slashed with all its might. But its claws met only the lifeless flesh of  a tree as the Ork lept out of the way with his jump pack, alighting on a branch high above. "I'll deel wif you latar... I gotz a job ta do." The Greenskin heaved through pained breaths, his wounds were not fatal, but they were enough to warrent a 'taktikal' retreat. The Possessed snarled "I will finish this, geenskin, none run from me!" The Ork lept through the trees, vanishing. The Chaos Marine closed his eyes, felt the muffled pull of the relic... and smelled blood on the wind.

Chapter nine: Deathly Siege

"And thus it is so good sir that running from these...invading Greenskins i have come across you. Now as a Knight of Lord Cedric the fifteenth I order you to escort me to my Knight so that I might return to the defense of our lords!" Berheven lied excellently, in the past he had convinced Mon-Keigh like these that he was anything from a beggar to a Rogue Trader. However this group was proving difficult to work with as they instead of obeying his orders took him back to their "city" for questioning. Now a head of the guard was asking him questions while waiting for Noble confirmation instead of obeying Berheven's noble ambitions and escorting him to where he had demanded. Of course when the reply would come back Berheven would prove to be a false Noble and certainly no Knight of this backwater.  Indeed the master thief needed something, and he needed it quick. But even so... with their world starting to burn around them one would think they would be more accepting of the story of someone willing to 'help'.

"My lord's Xenos at the gate! Xenos at the gate!" A shrill cry sounded just before warning bells began to ring fiercely. With a worried look the captain of the Guard lead as he and Berheven ran to the gate. As they ran Berheven in the haughty voice of a noble taunted the captain's lack of faith...though the thought of a invading hoard of orks seemed dim for his prospects of escape. However as silence and cries of pain and horror filled the air and Berheven caught the first glimpses of the enemy he looked to his belt where the 'Key of Eternity' lay and cursed the device for yet again failing to warn him of it's former masters arrival on a planet he so happened to also be on, all while also despairing as his prospects of escape dimmed even more.



Lord Herakvan had wanted to avoid laying waste to this settlement until later in the operation. However the primary and, if energy readings were correct, secondary objectives had both moved into the fortifications of the mortals. Based on the profile of the primary target it was most likely the target was utilizing the local defenders as a means of escape. However as the local settlement held no serviceable starport of it's own that meant the Eldars escape would be limited to locations outside of the settlement or through a personal webway slip, a method that the Gem-Heart has proven insistent on never using.  The Defenses of this settlement seemed significantly more competent than those of the initial settlement, the walls were higher by a margin, possessed far fewer blind spots and had efficient watch-posts with patrols which to a organic eye would prove difficult to predict. If there were supplementary defenses Lord Herakvan had yet to detect them making the pretense of any immediate calculated defensive responses a unlikely one. However what could only be hangars further into the settlement, as seen by his watchers suggested that the defenders would bring forward large land vehicles during the later stages of his raid.

With a single hand gesture Harakvan sent his Immortals forward, his Watcher drones carefully maneuvering to flank the defenders and his Siege scarabs silently sneaking towards the walls and gate all at once. Within seventy-eight seconds an alarm was raised as the defenders caught glimpse of the light reflected off his Immortals, as the defenders as calculated began to rally to the walls his Immortals set out to their task of reducing their numbers through a calculated distribution of Autolysis radiation across the enemy ramparts. To their credit the initial defenders fought back valiantly, far more had possession of energy weapons as opposed to the slow acting powder and pellet weapons the other settlements made extensive use of, and even as their fellows deteriorated and died around them the mortals fought on...a pointless endeavor but respectable.

"I will require nearly one quarter of my tactical perception to outperform these lessors with our current forces. Come the wall will soon be of no consequence." Herakvan ordered while leading his five guardians towards the human defenders, each fiercely defending their wall against the twenty Immortals besieging it. The casualties suffered by the Mortal warriors were significant and they barely slowed the advancing Immortals, even as he marched forward Herakvan registered as a arm re-knitted itself back onto a Immortal after a stray exloasion had ripped it off. At the normal rate these mortals would possibly eliminate only a single Immortal before the Necron tore down their walls and began with the destruction of their homes, However Herakvan did not accept such casualties in his raids. With a gesture the Necron Lord released the Watchers upon the flanks of the defenders, the flying weapons platforms each releasing powerful streams of gauss energy. At the same moment the carefully advancing Siege Scarabs sprang to action latching to the walls and swiftly digging into and through the cities defenses. Predictably the defenders upon the wall found their attentions now divided between the Watchers and the Scarabs, also predictably the defenders finally sent forward their six greatest war machines at this moment.

While the Colossal war machines stood higher than the city wall, they seemed a unusual excess to Lord Herakvan. Efficient Gauss fire or his Guardians could disable at least five of them...for the sake of siege efficiency he and his guardians would have to engage the six machines. Thus the lord Raised his Staff in challenge while leading his five guardians in a charge against the warmachines. Each of the six Mortal weapons turned and fired upon the Necron elite only to have their weapon expenditures proven to be a waste against the Tesla Shielding of the Necron. With Eternal patience the Necron moved forwards eventually reaching close combat with the machines of their organic enemies. With the armaments and talents displayed by the machines in the first seconds of combat, Herakvan calculated that it would take himself and his guards only eight minutes to disarm them and upwards to nineteen minutes destroy the enemy. With such calculations behind him Herakvan went into combat exchanging feirce blows with the massive machines, victory and the primary objective only minutes away. And Nothing would interfear.

Chapter Ten: Dimira Falling

Archite Ka'lah'ar'shar stared up at the sky of the human world as the Orkoid Krooza fell towards the planet's crust. He stared emotionlessly at it as his data banks blinked to inform him that his Dreadnought was incapacitated briefly by the Orkoid ship ramming straight through it at top speeds. He continue to watch the ship crash and burn through the skies, his mental questions being projected to his wounded Dreadnought. "Status Report"

Alkaira's voice was filled with static and it reminded Ka'lah'ar'shar of a wounded Dimiran continuing the "good fight". "Dreadnought has been brutally incapacitated. The ship remains in two pieces. The smaller half will be canniablized and used to fix the larger half which will take around fifty blitz". "Weaponry is barerly functioning, but the Generators are still running at full power". "The bays remains unharmed and Operation Falskaa remains in place... Your Orders my Archite?" 

The Archite finally tore his gaze away from the Orkoid Ship as it finally crashed straight into the planet causing a giant mushroom cloud to erupt as his forces continued to march onwards. "Repair the Dreadnought then destroy the Xeno Fleets, then continue on with Operation Falskaa". His firey gaze fell onto the "Superhuman" Chaos Slaves and the Orkoids fighting within a clearing within the forest. His mind impulse unit sent out a command to the Synthetic Warraak across the planet to continue raiding the Human fortresses and towns for supplies and people while also sending out an order to his Dimiran Soldiers to hide themselves and enter the battlefield. 

Creeping along with his soldiers Ka'lah'ar'shar watched as Revenant Karlar began to move himself as close as possible to one of the Chaos Slaves before readying his claws to kill the parasite. As he ran his claws through the Slave's chest his nanites stripped him of his armor to allow the deadly blades to seek their mark. As soon as his claws finished their deadly descent a bolt hit Karlar's left shoulder. 

Karlar raised his claws as a signal for the rest of the Revenants to come silently but swiftly out of their hiding places to strike down the Slaves and Orkoids. 

Ka'lah'ar'shar straightened his spine to stand at his impressive nine feet and uncloaked himself, uncurling his deadly claws and his nanite lash. He strode across the battlefield, bolts and primitive shells seeking him only to meet their unseen mark on his nanite shield. He uncurled his lash and sent it screaming through the air to meet the throat of three Orkoids charging at him, in an instant the lashes contracted around their neck only for the Archite to spend a simple thought to activate the deadly nanites on the lashes instantly seperating the Orkoids' heads from their shoulders.

The Archite then almost instantly sent his lash to wrap around the Slave who shot Karlar. The lash wrapped around his waist. Before Ka'lah'ar'shar tugged on the lash his orange eyes met the shocked eyes of the Chaos Slave, and with his superior strength the Archite sent the Slave flying through the air only to at the top of the arch activate the lashes' nanites to seperate the Slave in half. 

The majority of the Chaos Slaves began to move away after the Archite seperated their presumed leader in half, which allowed the Dimiran to turn their attentions to the Primitive Orkoids. Those that didn't "tactically retreat" met  their end at either the blades of the Dimir or the Orkoids. 

The Dimiran Warraak continued to clash with the primitive but deadly orks. Karlar was busy slashing through the seemingly endless stream of orks with a manical gleam in his red lens. The Golem Laraka was slamming his bulk into the swarm firing off his bulk rifle with uncaring thought. Ka'lah'ar'shar stared uncaring at the swarm of orks, standing on a fallen tree eying their horde with pity in his thoughts until his eyes layed upon the largest ork within the swarm. 

Alkaira's voice rang out within his mind, in the Archite's opinion the Dimira sounded much better. "My Archite, I give warning to you. This ork is very deadly in his own way. Called Skumfang among his primitive allies, this Orkoid doesn't directly belong to this Horde but still remains in charge for his'cunning' behavior. This ork is suprisingly intelegent, he'll likely have back up plans in case this plan, if you can call it one, fails." 

Ka'lah'ar'shar walked across the field with purpose in his eyes, his blank faced mask not showing any of the emotions he was feeling. His claw sliced and diced through flesh through random body parts into the air as he mortally wounded his foes, his lash screaming through the air seperating body parts and sending orks flying into their allies. The large Ork turned his gaze upon the lithe "Klanky" approaching him and screamed "Dem Klankiez kan't take us boyz! Mash'em like we did da spikey gitz!"

The Ork was large, definitely a Nob, he wore the garb of an Ork Freebooter, the Archite had seen the like, self styled pirates who joined other Ork armies as mercenaries. But this one seemed different, on his bright red greatcoat he bore the insignia of the Blackteef, a grinning Ork skull with teeth black as coal. He wore a large hat, and his black boots were spiked at the soles. In one hand he held a fairly large Choppa, a crude, axe shaped piece of steel and in the other hand, he held a large, double barreled, assault rifle of some kind.

As the Archite approached Skumfang the ork began to shout as he leveled his crude, slug throwing weapon. "Ya tink ya kan kill me? Skumfang?! I'm da skurge of two 'undred wurlds, killa of da starz! Ya got no chance Kilinkie! I'ma gonna krump ya and take whateverz left for da trofy room!!"

The Archite merely unfurlled his whip, and let it dangle at his side the deathly silence his only response. The Ork fired off a hail of rounds from his big shoota, only to have his assault blunted as the Archite swung his whip with expert speed and accuacy, cleaving the weapon in two. The Freebooter Nob glared at the remaines of his weapon. "Afta I'm dun wit you, I'ma find were ya furm and burn da place ta da ground! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!!!"

As the two leaders clashed a large circle of gore and limbs surrounded them. The Archite's lash and Skumfangs bulk ensuring that no one came close to the dueling leaders as the Ork's "choppa" clashed against the Archite's claw. The duel began in earnest, Skumfang swinging with all the grace of a berserker at the Dimir's insectoid form, his blows finding nothing but ferocious enough to keep the Archite's lash at bay. Infuriated by the Archites refusal to die easily, Skumfang roared as he brought his massive boot down with earth shaking force, unbalancing the Archite. 'Now I've gotcha!' Skumfang cracked a feral grin as the thought flashed in his mind, showing his various gold capped fangs. He swung at the Archite and hee lept into the sky, vanishing into the blackness save for his gleaming eyes. Skumfang lept back, hearing the swish of a whip, in that instant his arm was severed. The Ork reflexively tossed his choppa at his assailant as his arm was severed, trying to cover his escape.

The Archite's shield flashed to life as he removed the orkoid choppa from his face and the wound slowly knitted itself together. His blank mask showed no rage, but it was there.

Chapter Eleven: Da Boss haz Kom

Tuska Face'Melta had done it, he had done prehaps the most Orky thing any Blacktoof Ork, with their long history of uncharateristic intelegence, would ever do. He had taken out his enemies flagship, by using his own vessle as a battering ram, and now as he observed his boyz building a mighty fortress out of its remains, he coulden't help but laugh. "Not ment fer propa fighten my fut!" 

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