With those words, XtremeNL threw himself into the fight, swinging his two-handed sword as hard and wide as his joints would allow. Bones crushed under the sheer impact force, and his own body swayed left and right under the constant tugging. These large swords weren't made for cutting and slicing precisely; they were made for slashing, hacking and swinging, chopping up people and cleaving through armour, which was exactly what this particular specimen was doing.
“Fall in, people, fall in!” Tarbo turned away from the fleshy abomination that had been tying him into the fight for long seconds. “Twist, DarQ, on four-eyes! Get him there in one piece! Captain, Haksor, cover the sides. Stick, you're with me, we're clearing the rear!” A meaty hand slammed on his shoulder and pulled him back into the fight; he was going to have his hands full with his intent to cover the rear, but with the speed the Khainites would advance now, the rear was more of a grey zone—a vacuum, so to speak—than an actual front, so resistance would be the occasional undead trooper coming at them.
Getwisteerd nodded briefly and formed on XtremeNL, keeping the undead from clawing at his sides. There was only so much the academician could swing away—any two-handed weapon was powerful, but generally slow or clumsy—and the remainders would have to be cleared with speed and finesse, which was where witch elves came in. Their training emphasized weapon handling and situational awareness, relying on their agility and skill to avoid getting hurt in combat, or dying too quickly to be of use in the field. It was a necessary sacrifice to show devotion to their deity.
At the speed XtremeNL was going, however, he was going to need more than just some backup.
°°°
Moridin squinted his eyes at the whirlwind of destruction coming his way. Darla had already closed ranks with him, creating a dangerous and versatile tag team with every intention of giving the Khainites a serious bang for their buck. It looked like it wouldn't take long before combat would start with them as well.
“Telrunya,” Darla called to him, “they're coming at us.”
Telrunya nodded and looked briefly at Golden Arrow completing the sequences. The cave shook once again, and he could feel the magic tearing through the atmosphere. Any elf, with any magical affinity, would now feel what was happening: a tunnel straight to the Northern lands, fully powered by the energy of the obelisk and its combined artifacts. The portal wouldn't be ready by the time to Khainites arrived, so they were going to have to fight. No matter.
“Proceed as planned, sorceress. Open the gates.”
°°°
“lol n00b pwnage”
Anleth admittedly threw an occassional glance at Haksor when hearing him speak. While he moved very strangely, jumping about like a maniac, there was something elusively agile about him; there had to be, he wasn't getting hurt. Then again, there were a lot of things about Haksor that didn't quite add up. She neglected putting much thought to it for the moment; survival required her every ounce of concentration.
A taller, better armoured skeleton rose from the masses, holding a big, ornamental sword and a sturdy steel shield, with very little rust or decay showing on its weaponry. It elbowed its way through the masses singlemindedly, its targets obviously being the Khainites, in particular those clearing the sides. That would be Haksor and herself. She landed a hard blow on her immediate opponent, giving her a moment to herself. “Haksor, I need some time, cover me!”
“kk”
Gathering her strength, Anleth drove her sword into the floor, went down to her knees and snatched down her clammy, sogged shirt, removing her Temple insignia. It signified her as a member of the Temple—its security in particular—but moreover, it served as her icon to Khaine. Counting on Haksor's cover, she closed her eyes and prayed, focused. They would need Khaine's help in this, and she hoped the deity deigned it worthy to spare them a blessing, that their efforts and devotion were appreciated, that she wasn't considered weak in her calling for aid.
The sound of cracking bones and clashing weapons closed on her, the sickly smell of death and decay following from those that hadn't already lost what flesh there was left to lose. They would be with her soon, with or without Haksor.
°°°
“Define 'rear'.” Stickman timely dove aside to avoid a cleave at his waist.
“Everything we can cover,” Tarbo replied. “And then everything the rest would appreciate us clearing for them.”
“Such as... everything?”
“Yep, so get on it!”
These skeletons weren't just out for blood or for themselves; their malice was gouverned by a greater sentience, and since they were attacking Slaaneshi as well, that greater sentience wasn't Telrunya. Could it be that the obelisk itself was sentient to some degree? Had Chaos tainted it?
Tarbo blocked a blow on his sword, disarmed his opponent, and pressed on, impaling the ribcage on his blade. He tugged on it once, but it didn't loose readily. Another pull, and he shook a little, but nothing happened. “Great.”
Seeing another skeleton approach, he pulled his blade to the side, putting the impaled skeleton between Tarbo and the uncoming assailant. The trapped creature clawed wildly at him, missing the arm's reach to actually hit something, but he did a fine job at blocking the others anyway, especially when he did occasionally shake along with the sword.
“Sir?”
“I-got-it-I-got-it.”
°°°
The chamber shook and rumbled once more, and various parts of the air became as if broken, fractured, glazed even. Bursts of pure energy erupted from random parts along the obelisk, allowing all manner of colours to fill the atmosphere. The obelisk's aura expanded considerably when infused with such raw power, and the glyphs glew blindingly, pulsing fast.
A small, ethereal flying creature soared howling through the air, all eyes and a ragged, reddish, transparent cloth hanging from it, diving past the obelisk only to disappear in the same thin air it spawned from. Haphazard creatures, daemonic or otherwise, started to appear in the chamber, though most disappeared instantly, unstable as the vortex still was. The connection would require more time to stabilize, but beings of sufficient power or cunning could already take a sneak peek, and many did, itching to manifest elsewhere than the Void beyond.
Telrunya looked sharply to his right when a demon, waist-high, appeared only two yards away; a bubbling, irregular mockery of something that might one day have been humanoid in appearance but was now twisted and warped beyond recognition. Instantly recognizing it as some lesser runt from Khorne's section, he slashed his sword at it and cut it open, leaving the remains to be sucked back from the realm it came from. He stood guard near Golden Arrow and kept a close eye on the battlefield. A great many strange things would happen before the fight would be over.
°°°
“For the Empero—!” Monomolecularly-edged knife still held high over his head, his momentum slowed. “...the hell?”
Undead abominations were clawing their way around, crawling or walking to what seemed to be pointy-eared humanoids fighting their way about with crude weaponry. Some heathen people stood around a pulsing obelisk, with any number of freakish incarnations circling around as if pulled towards a whirlwind of... well... heretic stuff. Thinking was bad.
The marine scratched his helmet and looked about. He sure wasn't on Cadia anymore.
“Operator,” he tapped his intercom, “mind giving me those coordinates again? I think my system just BSOD'ed on me. Sure, I'll hold.” A light jingle filled his helmet.
“wrong server lolol”
The marine looked up when he heard someone talk to him, and stared straight at a... weird elf to serve him of reply: “yeah lmfao”
“lollerz”
“gtg m8 ttyl”
“ltrz”
In the same instant the marine had appeared, he disappeared again.
°°°
XtremeNL felt a sword cleave his side while he swung his own around with total disregard for his safety. He felt it was his duty to lead the assault against the Slaaneshi, and he was just a few more skeletons away from getting there. He could already see Moridin pacing around restlessly, a wicked grin turned on the possessed's lips, itching to get his hands on a Khainite and mangle him.
Getwisteerd followed to XtremeNL's left, banging and jabbing her swords at anything and everything hostile in her reach. She screamed once when she felt a blade carve into her waist, but pushed on. If she stopped now, the momentum of the attack would halt, and both her as the academician would eventually perish. She couldn't risk that.
A warm feeling suddenly washed over her, tingling her mind and body. Her wounds felt less painful, the injuries healed partly, her muscles revitalized, her fatigue lifting. Taking full advantage of the moment, she didn't hesitate for a moment and plunged into the fight again; a fight they appeared to be losing. Where was their support?
“Where is our support?” she called out, hoping XtremeNL would hear, even in his blind rage.
“It better be right behind me!” he called out.
“They should be, but I don't see them!” Getwisteerd took a moment to look about, searching for their help, their support in the blazing attack. She found DarQ`Zar was having every trouble fighting off the undead without getting hurt, and it had caused him to fall behind. “We need some help here!” she finally called out, hoping the rest would fall in.
°°°
Telrunya chuckled when he saw the Khainites' front guard plough through the horde of undead. Even when approaching the Slaaneshi, their injuries were slowly adding up; they would be no match for Moridin and Darla.
That wasn't the only reason he was chuckling. Oh no, he had spotted a more tactical problem, perhaps a lack of communication, and this particular lack of communication led to the seperation of front from rear guard. Seperation wasn't the right word for it, really; the connection depended solely on Haksor and Anleth, and they wouldn't hold out long against the undead wave seeping into the vacuum the front guard left behind. So it was a matter of choice: would the side guard drop back to the rear, advance with the front, or be overwhelmed?
Telrunya had felt there had been an intervention on behalf of the Khainites. Khaine apparently wasn't picky in his blessing, he smirked. His followers were on a mad chase to recover magical artifacts from a forgotten land only to please the ego of their mistress. This wasn't a quest in his name or favour, it was a quest of greed and mercenary satisfaction. But apparently, a few people were valued enough to warrant his intervention. Or perhaps he simply saw his chances to thwart the infiltrator team. Telrunya shook his head with a hint of disappointment on his face.
Khaine had been seriously skipping out of tactics class.
°°°
A sudden sense of alarm overtook Anleth. In a single move, she yanked her sword out of the stony floor and stood on her feet, timely taking a step back to avoid this champion skeleton's swing. It stared at her with its wicked death grin, a hint of malevolence glistening in its empty eyesockets.
A first clashing of blades. Anleth groaned under her assailant's strength and chose to deflect rather than block its blows. This would require more than just a few quick swings and a chop, although she wasn't sure her opponent thought the same thing; after all, a chop from his side would probably suffice to kill her instantly. Another attempt on her wellbeing drew her focus back to the fight.
The combat rhythm was remarkably high. Relying on her agility, Anleth deflected a high blow, ran on and swung her blade twice against the skeleton. Her blows were blunted by the creature's considerable armour, leaving nothing but a few marks on the plate and some loud bangs to hang idly in the air. She lurched back, barely avoiding the blade that now passed a mere inch over her. Unsteady from the sudden swivel, she backpedaled and finally held again, her sword set diagonally in her view while her opponent approached.
“Sir!” she attempted to shout over the ample white noise that clashing combattants filled the magic-riddled air with. “We can't hold the middle much longer!”
The tall skeleton charged at her and cut for the legs; a timely jump allowed Anleth to keep hers, and she bashed her full weight into the armoured abomination, causing it to temporarily lose balance, but a calculated step back allowed it firm footing again, and it slammed Anleth aside with a solid hit of its shield. She rolled over the floor and back on her feet, covering for the sudden impulse as the intensive training had taught her. She held the painful arm that caught the blow.
This would be a serious challenge.
°°°
“We need some help here!” That was Twist.
“Sir!” Sir, must've been Anleth. “We can't hold the middle much longer!”
“It's getting crowded in here!” The shade, Stickman.
“lvl!!” ...probably Haksor.
Tarbo slammed the palm of his hand in a skeleton's chin, the sheer impact levelling it to the floor. He needed a moment to get an overview of the situation. After all, he was an assassin, a trainer at best, and nothing along the lines of a general or accomplished tactician. He felt strongly to delegate that part to Mioralynthia, who wasn't here, or Anleth, who lacked the experience. Well, there was a first time for everything, including tactics. He looked around and saw a lot of chaos, with and without capital letter. He ignored a screaming, three-eyed, translucent manifestation soaring just overhead.
“Captain, fall in with the front guard! Get to the front! Stick, Hak, fall back, we're making a new rear guard! Go, go!”
°°°
The moment XtremeNL reached Slaaneshi lines was the moment Moridin had been waiting for. Darla was covering his back in case someone tried to pull something funny, and he had been itching to get his hands on a Khainite. At first, he wanted to nail Stickman, but by now, any Khainite would do. He too could feel the wave of Chaos lashing out at the battlefield, pulse by pulse, and it fed the demon inside him.
XtremeNL held his painful spleen. He had taken a number of hits, some penetrating his breastplate, more had struck where he wore no armour. Yet he kept standing, smashing his way through the ranks. He screamed in rage, building his strength, and swung his sword wildly again, doing his damage. An opponent went down, another skeleton's bones were shattered under the sheer force of impact.
Only one skeleton stood between XtremeNL and Moridin now. With one hand, Moridin threw aside the animated collection of bones, his sword at the ready, and charged at the academician, bellowing loudly: “He's mine!”
XtremeNL barely dodged Moridin's first blow, part of his pauldron chipping off at impact. He swung around and found his own blow blocked; Moridin's speed and strength were amazing, and his bloodthirst not at all lacking. XtremeNL realized he would not make the fight on his own, but he didn't need to; others would soon come to his aid. He knew they would, they wouldn't send one of their few into the jaws of death; they couldn't afford it. That knowledge alone made a grin turn on his face. “I'm all yours, punk. Come and get it!”
Moridin swayed aside, dodging XtremeNL's large sword. From his perspective, everybody around him was starting to slow; even getwisteerd and Darla, otherwise lightning fast, were just plain 'fast'. And the academician? He was slow. Very slow. The sensation of adrenaline kicked into his body as the demon within took over part of his reflexes and awareness, granting him the time to use his speed to full effect. He avoided the next swing with unequalled grace, then slashed his sword at XtremeNL. He could actually see his blade cleave through the armour and into the ribcage. It created a sickening noise, when metal tore through metal and flesh alike, but he relished it.
XtremeNL screamed in pain and backpedaled, surprised at the sudden speed and strength. For a moment, he considered calling in getwisteeerd, but he found the witch elf likewise busy.
In a display of graceful speed and elegance, Darla and getwisteerd were locked in a fight resembling some sort of elusive dance with razorsharp blades clashing at every hit. Getwisteerd went all-out, slashing at whatever angle presented itself in a wild attempt to harm Darla. Darla, on her side, went in a counteroffensive as often as she could, suffering a few cuts, but dealing them all the same. And then, something happened.
At a flash of magic coming from Golden Arrow, channeled through the obelisk, a faint yellowish aura seemed to stick around Darla. The cuts didn't heal, nor did they shift, but the elf did seem to have increasing confidence in the fight, and getwisteerd found out why: as soon as Darla was struck, the blade's speed was damperened, even outright hampered, and deflected at a likely angle. A strike that would've hit now was a near miss, and a wicked grin turned on Darla's lips.
“Let's dance.”
°°°
DarQ`Zar jumped aside when a skeleton lunged at him with its axe. He moved about in the vacuum closing up around him, trying to fight his way to Moridin, but falling behind on the others still. He saw Stickman and Tarbo fall in with Haksor, creating a new rear guard that was alarmingly close to DarQ`Zar himself. He looked about and noticed that he was slowly becoming the rear guard; the others had advanced more quickly than he had envisioned. How had this happened? Had his attack slowed so much in his efforts to get in the fight unharmed? He pressed his lips and advanced as much he could.
“DarQ, I thought you were covering XtremeNL.” Tarbo sounded less surprised than confused, actually. There was a hint of amazement on his face, a face that was quickly hidden by a timely dodge.
“I got surrounded; they're everywhere.”
Tarbo nodded and patted DarQ`Zar's chest with his free hand. “Don't worry, Captain Lareight has it covered.”
DarQ`Zar frowned. Hadn't he just seen Anleth somewhere back, fighting a grave guard of sorts? “I thought she was busy holding the line.”
“I told her to fall back, and that's what's we're doing. Move!”
°°°
Boney, cracking steps resounded as the grave guard, a champion skeleton of sorts, circled along an imaginary focal point. Anleth did the same in the other direction, both having their eyes—or lack thereof—firmly set on eachother. Obviously, neither side was intent on underestimating the other, or giving any quarter.
But still, Anleth was at the disadvantage. It was no perfect circle they made; the grave guard was advancing slowly on her, pushing her towards the edge where Malevion and Drakhan had fallen off ever so short ago. It seemed like ages now, but it had really only been half an hour, maybe even less. Still, Anleth's sword felt heavy, the cuts stung harshly, and she wiped the sweat off her forehead with a soggy sleeve.
In the corner of her eye, she saw where she was supposed to be: covering the assault. She would need to get past that malice in front of her... and malice was an apt name; this creature had a malevolent sentience of its own, a brutal cunning that belied true intelligence in the sense of a person of the past. It was a fight she could win, given time, but she hadn't the time, and she didn't need to win the fight. When she heard the call for help, she took a deep breath and charged at the grave guard at full speed.
It anticipated her attack and swung its blade for her fast moving legs, aiming to incapacitate her instantly. Anleth dropped herself; she lifted her legs barely in time to avoid losing them, and rolled over her shoulder to pass the skeleton. She grunted when she landed hard on her shoulder, rolled to a hunch and, with all her might, swung her sword against the skeleton's legs, aiming for the kneejoints. The gratifying sound of shattering bone followed and, although her opponent was nowhere near defeated, she bought herself the time and space she needed, and raced for the front lines.
______________________________
The Final Stand - Round 3
- Team Slaanesh
- Telrunya (Anointed One)
- Balanced, Rebuking Undead
- Uninjured - Moridin Neyar (The Posessed)
- Fighting XtremeNL, Aggressive, Possessed
- Uninjured - Sleek Darla (Devoted / Witch Elf)
- Fighting getwisteerd, Aggressive
- Barely injured
- Warded (increased ward save) - Golden Arrow (Sorceress)
- Defensive, Sequencing
- Uninjured
- Remaining Khainites
- DarQ`Zar (Officer of the Temple Guard)
- Balanced
- Barely injured - getwisteerd (Witch Elf)
- Fighting Sleek Darla, Berserk
- Injured - Stickman (Shade)
- Balanced
- Uninjured - XtremeNL (Academician)
- Fighting Moridin Neyar, Berserk
- Heavily wounded
- NPCs
- Tarbo
- Balanced
- Uninjured - Anleth
- Aggressive
- Light injuries - Haksor
- Aggressive
- Uninjured
The Khainites are all affected by Khaine's Blessing, which gives various combat bonuses.
Deadline for this round is set on Wednesday, 20h00 GMT.
