Battle Report: Eldar vs Imperial Guard vs Space Marines

[Executioner]

The Sphere had been thought lost for centuries, thought destroyed and irrecoverable. What powers that strange artefact possessed, not even the most wise of the Fateweavers knew - only that it was an energy source of a long gone age of immense power, its sheer force radiation enough to dazzle and blind those nearby in a shroud of golden glow.

Until now; whether by sheer dumb luck or the manipulations of destiny, Men of Cadia had stumbled upon the Sphere. They no doubt would not realize the importance of the Sphere, and what meaning it held to the crew of the Solar Engine; the Sphere was powerful enough to replace the gargantuan ship's central core and restore it back to flight. The Man's crude Techpriests would surely tinker and defile the Sphere, thoughtlessly scavenging it for but a fraction of it's power. Negotiations were not an option; the Fateweavers had seen that they would only end in bloodshed. So the Solar Engine set forth their most devastating Strike Team, the battle-hardened Tempest Star.

At their lead was Fateweaver Loecai, an Eldar who could have not been better suited for the task at hand. His nature was to defy all odds and come on top. He had innumerable millennia of warfare behind him and the Council believed in his abilities with absolute conviction.

Dire Avenger Exarch Mercuriel stood by his side, leading his men to battle, and ready to assault the fortified Imperial positions was Encarien, the Witch of Kalamunda, his presence crackling with psychic electricity. And from the Webway had appeared an old ally, Harlequins of the Red Masque, laughing and jesting their way to enemy lines.

The Cadians of the 101st were a foe Loecai had heard much from other Solar Engine Eldar. They were said to be resolute and steadfast in defence, unloading volleys of lasgun fire at incoming enemies while supported by the roaring maws of Basilisk artillery. Exarch of the Dark Reapers, the Harbinger, had already felt the fist of the Emperor many times before; he had fought multiple times with the 101st, and almost every time he met them in the field, his unit fell victim to the skies opening in a rain of fire above them. So far his armour and sheer malicious will had kept him alive, though his body was now broken and his limbless body had to be fused with wraithbone to allow him to continue doing the bidding of Khaine.

***


Loecai observed the field and the Guard's position; the Eldar had been swift in their deployment, and the Cadians had little time to fortify their positions, as escape was impossible, the mercurial and agile Eldar much more rapid in their movements than the slow Imperial infantry.

Even then, the Cadians would be a dangerous foe and caution had to be exercised. He flicked a golden coin in his hand, sending it flying in the air, and grabbed it in his fist. Eyes closed, he tore through the veil of time and peered into the future; visions of fire and blood engulfed him, of Men being incinerated in white-hot plasma and impaled by monomolecular shuriken swarms. He felt the pain of hundreds of shots tearing through flesh, and returned to the present with a grin on his face. Destiny was set. The Guard would be annihilated, totally and utterly.

"Venerated Fateweaver, our Ranger scouts have located a host of Imperial Space Marines of an unknown Chapter. What would you wish of us?" The Eldar who spoke was Witch Encarien, who had appeared behind the Fateweaver with deft quiet, just as he always did. The Fateweaver pondered upon this new turn of the tide briefly, but decided that it was of no importance. "Regardless of their intention, our interests lie within the Sphere, Witch. Storm their defences - a fast strike in and out is how we will prevail. Carry out your orders, Witch."

And with those words, the Farseer drew his arcane lance and set forth, travelling the rocky terrain in swift silence. He could observe the Imperial Guard lying in wait in their fortifications, formidable weapons at the ready and aimed at the Eldar.. but it would seem that they were prepared for an attack in the rear. Could it be that Man warred against Man on this battlefield?

The ancient Walker to his right shook the earth with each step as it moved before the main warhost, scanners analyzing the numerous places of possible ambush and surprise, until it suddenly stopped, slammed its mechanical limbs deep in the earth and turned towards a small group of seemingly empty, overgrown fortifications.. but the War Walker had spotted the subtle, camouflaged infiltrators, unloading a deadly salvo from it's shuriken cannon, forcing the Imperials take cover and return fire with their rifles from the confines of the ruined fortifications, unable to aim efficiently due to resounding fire from Mercuriel's squad, the Walker having informed them of targets in hiding.

Seeing that his plans proceeded as foreseen, the Farseer leapt over the waist-high plasteel wall, diving through enemy fire towards the lines. He set his gaze upon the Imperial Guard's main force and chose one unlucky target, his eyes setting alight with a ghostly blue fire as he snuffed out the mind from one of the Guard, his body falling to the ground - alive but without a mind to give it purpose; truly a fate worse than death, but a necessary sacrifice.

Eidolon of Wrath, the Wave Serpent that carried Encariel's Storm Guardians in its steel womb laid its formidable weaponry to bear, punching holes in the Imperial lines, dozens dying as Loecai had seen in his visions, in white blasts of plasma that charred the Cadian's flesh to the bone.

Pleased that his plan was carried out in perfect synchronicity, the Fateweaver smirked, but his smile froze when his the visor that fed him tactical information in real time presented him the Red Masque's actions. They were charging heedlessly into enemy lines, ignoring direct orders he had given them! "Red Masque, fall back! The enemy lies in waiting - withdraw lest your troupe be obliterated in hail of lasfire!"

But as expected, the Masque's troupe master merely laughed at his warnings and replied in a sing-song voice: "Worry not, twister of fortune, we are masked the Trickster's unlight!" It shouldn't have surprised him that the capricious Harlequins would act as they please and trust in their guile to deceive their enemies - and perhaps they would be right. It remained to be seen if the Harlequins were jesters or fools.

Preoccupied in his exchange with the Red Masque troupe, the Farseer didn't see that some Guardsmen had successfully spied his location and fired their rifles; shots blazed around him as he tried to take cover, raising an eldritch barrier, but a moment too late; a blast hit him squarely in the chest, causing him to take a few steps back and almost fall down. He immediately reinforced his protections, causing the rest of the volley to fizzle harmlessly. The Guardsmen at the top of the walled, steep, surrounded on all sides by strong walls and fortified gun positions. This would not do.

"Eidolon of Wrath, suppressive fire at my targets", ordered the Fateweaver quickly through the communications, and the pilot of the deadly war machine soon answered with his usual glee at the prospect of unleashing volleys of plasma missiles. "Understood, Fateweaver. They will soon step into the forge of Vaul!"

And his boast was no lie. Salvos of missiles struck the Guard's positions once more, forcing them to go to ground and try to survive the accurate, seemingly endless bombardment.

At the same time, Dark Reapers devastated their weapon teams. It seemed like the victory would be certain by now, but Loecai's sureness of his victory was set back by a sudden, loud and somewhat panicked incoming transmission. The Farseer recognized the voice to be that of Amaryel, she being the pilot of Herald of Fire, the War Walker; "Red Moon! Red Moon! A Hunter-Killer locked on in-" and after that, an explosion, much closer than the ones that had battered the Guard before, ringed in Loecai's ears. Amaryel's transmission had gone deadly silent, and the Fateweaver didn't need the gift of prophecy to know that she was no more, and what was left of the ancient wraithbone construct was unsalvageable wreck.

"Mercuriel. How has fate woven the strands of our left flank?" He spoke into his communications while approaching the Guard's hill fort with care, running beside the gravitation tank, using it as cover. Mercuriel's voice was barely audible through all the background noise and disturbance. "I lost an Avenger to the blastwave that the fall of Amaryel's Herald of Fire caused; but the Red Masque caught the brunt of the explosion. I am not sure if.. wait! Only one of them fell, and the rest are charging forth! We will advance and guard their flank, exalted one."

"Indeed. Do as you see fit, Exarch", replied Loecai, confident in the abilities of his most stalwart and loyal friend and officer. He called back to the Eidolon of Wrath, and the pilot answered to him, knowing his intent before he even told him. "Eidolon of Wrath, bring your anti-vehicle missiles to bear and take down the Dreadnought of our foe. We cannot lose any more of our brothers and sisters to their cruel tomb-walker." Before he finished his sentence, the Eidolon had already taken aim and soon set loose a missile that struck the Space Marine Dreadnought with unerring accuracy, crushing the central armour plates and all but annihilating the corpse of the Space Marine that lay inside its metal husk.

The Space Marines entering the field had been a truly troublesome event; Loecai had lost one of his most capable War Walkers and important mobile firepower that it lent to his forces. Nevertheless, the Sphere was what truly mattered, for it would allow the Solar Engine to easily take flight once more and continue the voyage across the stars, delivering them from this accursed planet of the Imperium.

His forces moved on, and the Space Marines on the other side of the hill did the same, moving quickly across the terrain, unfettered by their cumbersome power armour and heavy armaments. They were fearsome foes; they stopped at nothing and their zealous faith in the Emperor was a weapon unto itself, perhaps more powerful than their death-spitting boltguns and all-eradicating autoacannons.

Another explosion near Loecai set him reeling and momentarily deafened him. When he stumbled back up, the Wave Serpent he had moved forwards with was smoking and floated in the air, slightly above ground, its gravitic motors smoking and humming eerily. There was only white noise in communications with the vehicle for a while, put finally the Farseer got through to the grav-tanks' pilot. "Status report, Eidolon of Wrath", he demanded, sending a psionic wave towards the Wave Serpent to ascertain that the pilot and passengers were still unharmed and able to respond. "This is Eidolon of Wrath. We are reduced immobile; the star engines have been damaged beyond wraithbone regeneration, and our missile loading systems have been struck out of configuration. We cannot lend bombardment, but our Shuriken Cannon can still lay down covering fire. The passengers are unharmed and disembarking for ground assault."

Acknowledging the situation, the Farseer awaited the Guardians and the Witch of Kalamunda to leave the confines of the Wave Serpent, deciding to guide them personally.

Readying himself for the final push up the hill with his men, Loecai burst forward with the Storm Guardians in tow. But his charge was short; as he began the rapid advance forward, the visions from before bubbled into the surface of his mind and it was not until then that he realized what they truly meant. Horrified, he swept around. "Take cover! Back into cover!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, and the Guardians dashed to safety, Encarien raising his hand to stop enemy fire with his psionic shield.

And then the volley struck them. From far away, the surviving Dreadnought, driven forth by the will of a Space Marine hero who had slaughtered countless enemies and made the ultimate heroic sacrificed and granted a new chance to serve the Emperor laid waste to the Xenos with his twin-linked autocannons, shredding the Fateweaver apart with powerful blasts, rending his body into pieces in mere fractions of a second it took the beast to turn and unload the magazines of its autocannons.

As the shocks of the bolts ravaged his body, Loecai dropped his favourite coin, the talisman he always carried with him. It landed on the ground, and the side that was up was the Bloody Red Hand of Khaela Mensha Khaine, the god of Murder.

***


"Victory has been seized from our grasp, and our Farseer has fallen. Evacuate immediately to the Solar Engine; the day has been lost", Encarien spoke to all of the remaining forces, having already informed the Solar Engine of their plight. The ancient ship would soon fold the fabric of reality and open an emergency rift into the Webway, through which the Eldar would swiftly disappear.. but not before collecting the Soulstones of the fallen. The day had been crushing; although their losses were few in comparison to the innumerable men the Guard had lost, no amount of Cadian lives would repay the death of even the lowliest of the dwindling Eldar race.

"Encarien! WITCH! Take back your orders and command the men to continue the fight; KHAINE DEMANDS BLOOD!" Raged the Harbinger through voice communications, his reconstructed voice full of otherworldly static, the result of his oesophagus having been built anew by the Bonesingers of the Solar Engine. The Exarch of the Dark Reapers was furious, refusing to lay his arms down and accept defeat yet again to the Cadians that had ruined his body already; now their Space Marine allies had slain Loecai.
"That cannot be. Their salvos are like a thunderstorm; and it will not take long before their orbital fleet will cover this battlefield in fire. Let us live to avenge our fallen another day, Exarch. You will have vengeance."

Screaming in frenzy, the last Eldar to vanish into the Webway was the Dark Reaper Exarch, unloading his missile launcher's magazines into the enemy in a last act of spite before disappearing.

The day had been lost.