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The scholars and adepts of Mars looked up from the figure they were examining so closely. On the table below them the form of a slender female of the Eldar race lay, tubes and appendages poking her corpselike visage. She was clearly malnourished and almost driven mad under the torturous investigations of her captors, yet this didn’t give them even the shade of a pause as tirelessly they worked to uncover every secret of her body, as well as her equipment.
“My lord, we have come to the conclusion that while wonderous, the weapons of this xenos wretch are laughably ineffective” crackled a datasmith, addressing the looming figure of the Archmagos before him.
“This glove emits a high power energy field along its surface, destabilising the matter around it, resulting in potentially monumental amount of stress induced along the surface of a target it is dragged over. However, this requires immense speed and skill, the forces involved easily capable of rending the user’s arm.”
A servitor brought forward another, now gun shaped, object. “While this, another energy weapon capable of emitting intense bursts of heat, why it is only effective at the range of a few steps away! Laughable really, who creates ranged weapons that have barely more reach than a sword?”
“A race that controlled the galaxy before we even set eyes on the stars!” boomed Cybixx, tendrils twitching as they explored the inner workings of the device. “Do not be deceived, these instruments are lethal when wielded by their warrior-dancers. However, these trifles are not why I had this Eldar captured. I need to know why they interfere with our exploration of this planet, surely they should be delighted that we put to rest the Necron abominations infesting its surface!”
The two adepts turning the captive over on her back looked at each other.
This had all begun when, upon reaching an unnamed planet in the Vandrax system the armies of the Mechanicus became engaged with multiple forces of the xenos named Necrons. After successive victories thanks to overwhelming numbers and the wit of the Archmagos, they encountered an entrance to what looked like a tomb complex. Before they could explore further however, a lone figure of an Eldar warrior made her reveal and asked to speak to Cybixx, commanding him to go no further and turn his back on the tombs and the planet. Naturally the scion of Mars made no such move and instead imprisoned her for further investigation. No one even considered the option of the armies of the Mechanicus running away after some baseless xenos threats.
“You’ll regret this damned mon-keigh! Cegorach weeps for your worthless husk, may you and your works be cursed by the Laughing God!” The pointy eared female buckled and screamed in the servo arms of the adepts.
Cybixx slowly dragged his form to inspect his specimen, his monocle zooming in on a tattoo of a red cloud on her chest.
“No god in your petty pantheon is a match for the miracles of the Omnissiah!” the Archmagos wheezed “Her blasphemous tongue desecrates these halls, cut it out before her lies fill the minds of the untrained!”.
No sooner had the words dissipated that a jarring claxon resounded through the room.
“What is it?!”
Eyes, tendrils and various arm like appendages skimmed through the interfaces on the walls.
“A small detachment of light skimmers has been sighted on the horizon my lord! They are coming this way at a phenomenal velocity and will reach this location in approximately ten minutes”.
Something shook the walls of the underground laboratory.
Outside, crimson clouds hung in the sky.
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With the screeching sound of shuriken another ranger fell. The hastily erected barricade between the crumbling structures was doing little to shield the Mechanicus cyborgs against the constant barrage of deadly spinning stars sent their way. The next hail of projectiles tore off a leg from a running ranger, causing his momentum to land him face first on a metal rod.
The ensuing spurt of blood reflected in the polished mask of the death jester aiming from the rooftops, each death played out across the grinning face.
Every death had to be masterfully crafted into an elaborate jest, a symphony of irony, for why should the grim visage of death not have a little humour? Whether it was a mighty warrior tripping over a stone and dying on some carefully placed spikes or a tech crazed fanatic falling prey to his own mechanical limbs as the part of his brain granting control over them was cut out with the scalpel precision of a shuriken flick. Each death was a not so subtle jab at the competence of the enemy and here, their competence was found to be lacking.
Below, skyweavers dived under and between the rounds of the Mechanicus soldiers, easily avoiding the fire of the doomed defenders. It hadn’t taken long, perhaps 20 minutes, half an hour, yet already the humans knew they would face their end here, on this battlefield. You could tell. It was in the frantic shouting and hissing of static between the communication arrays. It was in how an increasing number of their shots ended up veering way off target. It was in the shadows, how each one of them seemed to have a slightly darker hue than expected. The death jester knew what waited in the shadows and he knew that despite his bravado and humour in the face of demise, the thing in the shadows could only ever be regarded with terror.
“Focus fire on the vehicle at position 567, 8930” the screeching voice of Cybixx resounded in every communicator. No sooner had the guns of the Dunecrawler type vehicle started warming up than a band of brightly clothed warriors burst out from the not-space before it. Led by a hooded, faceless psyker the dancers weaved and spun, letting off bright purple shots of energy. A nearby techpriest, oncepriding himself on his fear-stripping augmentations, felt a tinge of the emotion welling up inside. The light streaks warped through and enveloped the Kastellan robots, forcing them to keel over. While ineffective at long range the fusion pistols ensured no such firefight was necessary, shroudingnearby robots and machines in a bright glow, melting through their carapace and inner workings.
Then, came the caresses.
With but a stroke, arms, weapons and faces were shorn apart, the graceful warriors of the Eldar not even looking back to see the damage they caused. The didn’t need to. Each had a part to play in the dance, each one savouring, contemplating or grieving the utter annihilation of the forces arrayed against them. It was all a play, a jest, a performance where the spectators were both the audience and participants and the colour crimson was that of true blood.
The Archmagos grabbed a nearby harlequin warrior by the face and crushed it, mask and all, in his pincer-like grip. He was furious. His army was being decimated, some dying in circumstances that would be comical if they were not so grisly, others tearing out their eyes after witnessing visions brought about by the gas released by that Eldar witch. She would burn, they all would as soon as his reinforcements arrive. Cybixx scuttled forward, trying to separate himself from a duo of especially persistent harlequins. He had one final trick up his sleeve.
Activating the required protocols, the fallen Dunecrawler and nearby robots vibrated slightly, then everything became white as their self-destruct mechanisms set in.
Ringing. A high pitched noise. White, then darkness, then the battlefield slowly returning.
The constructs of the humans had detonated, leaving debris and body parts both Eldar and mechanical scattered around. Not many xenos had survived the explosion.
Synther spun around clutching the stump where his left arm had been. It was barbaric, brutal yet he had to admit, effective. Detonating the robots had given the humans a little precious space from their pursuers, though the explosions had wrought a heavy toll on their forces too. Nearby, a skyweaver had crashed into the ground, the riders drooping over the side, trickles of crimson adorning their masks. Synther staggered to where they lay. While crippled, his senses were quickly coming back to him and he could still make a difference in the battle. Teasing out a zephyrglaive from under the bike, he spun it around, tested the blade and launched himself into a group of rangers still alive.
Not many xenos had survived. Not many, but enough. As Cybixx, slowly rose from the ditch a few glowing shots caught him in the side, he whirled around to face his attackers but all he could see was a shadow. A deep, looming shadow that shifted around the edges in a way that almost seemed to break reality. A shadow with horns.
The Solitaire stalked towards the Archmagos, walking in a straight line, upright, unafraid of any incoming fire. He stopped half a metre away from the techpriest, and regarded him, almost like a spider might regard a fly despite their size difference suggesting the reverse.
“Your test subject, the one you so thoroughly….examined, was my daughter. She can no longer play a vocal role on the grand stage of life, spiralling endlessly in a mute ballet. For that, no matter what deals you may have formed with my brothers and sisters, you must pay”.
A kick smashed into the carapace shielding Cybixx’s back, despite the afterimage of the Solitaire still facing his front. The magos crashed into a wall, systems reporting damage across his whole body.
Then, another.
Another.
A flurry of hits, blows, kicks and sweeps of an energy weapon pummelled into the techpriest, reducing parts to a molten slag. Each attack came faster than the next and the force of each would have been enough to buckle Adamantium plate. There seemed no end to their succession nor the damage they caused and with a crunch, his spine splintered and the magos’ upper half flew into the air.
The cold eyes of the shadow scanned over the wheezing husk of the man before him.
“Your part is yet unfinished, mon-keigh. This can only end as a lesson and not the punishment you deserve as for good or evil, the Laughing God requires you still. Yet, know that as soon as your usefulness has come to an end, I’ll be there. May you always watch the shadows and fear the red clouds”.
With a jump the form of the representation of Slaaneshmelded into the surroundings once more. The sounds of battle were dying down, more and more of the brightly clad horrors disappearing through portals to what could only be the webway. It was over.
Across the horizon, dawn broke.
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