Skrall
02-07-2006, 02:58 AM
Here is a taster from the first chapter, enjoy
Melenshar dove behind the wraithbone wall, its white surface burst in a shower of green. The Aspect Farseer panted heavily, this ancient foe could not be stopped by him alone. He rose from the shattered wall as the metal creatures continued relentless in their pursuit. The Eldar slid on his heel as he ran through the burning homes. The entire craftworld lay in ruin, flame and gauss tore through its streets. He sighed as he caught sight of his saviour, or closer to six saviours. The Wraithguard stood proud firing at the oncoming machine. The five lifeless warriors paused as the Wraithlord stepped over them, its huge tread crushing one of the foul abominations.
?Wraithguard, turn to me and defend,? he shouted.
The five creatures turned instantly, their weapons sitting tightly in their grasp. The Farseer ran past them, the creatures began firing as the five Necron?tyr warriors marched into view. The heavily build machines firing their weapons with greater effect than Melenshar had seen of the warriors. The Farseer watched as the warriors faltered, both wraith and Necron?tyr fell in equal measure. Melenshar concentrated, his mind reaching deep within the heart of the craftworld to find the strength. He smiled as his mind exploded in a fire of fury and hated. His eyes burned as he began to utter the words of Kaela Mensha Khaine. The Eldar unleashed the bolt of fire, its fury ripping the foul Necron?tyr apart.
He felt his body grow in weight, his very bones seeming to carry the weight of the craftworld. A shadow loomed over him, he could feel the soul within it burn with hatred and love. The Wraithlord bowed before him, its head lowered in respect. The aspect Farseer ran his hand across its featureless face.
?Rise warrior of Yme-Loc, I do not deserve your respect. This fight will see the end of us, but we are Eldar and we do not give in to the enemy. We must fight until Yme-Loc is free of this ancient malice.?
The Wraithlords thoughts penetrated Melenshar?s mind ?can we not call our brothers? Can we not call on the Eldar of Lugganath? Can we not call on the warriors of Lyanden or Ulthw???
?No warrior of the bone, we cannot. Things have changed, we are rejected and exiled. We are the world of the ranger, the exiled warrior who cannot call on those who would not know them. My friend, we are alone and doomed.?
The Wraithlord did not speak. It rose to its feet with its lance weapon raised. It steps forwards into the dying world ready to make its fate. Melenshar knew the warrior would die, he could feel it in every ripple of time and path. The Farseer walked away from it, there was a single path left to take for him. The future was clouded, but he could see something of the Eldar surviving in this path.
Melenshar dove behind the wraithbone wall, its white surface burst in a shower of green. The Aspect Farseer panted heavily, this ancient foe could not be stopped by him alone. He rose from the shattered wall as the metal creatures continued relentless in their pursuit. The Eldar slid on his heel as he ran through the burning homes. The entire craftworld lay in ruin, flame and gauss tore through its streets. He sighed as he caught sight of his saviour, or closer to six saviours. The Wraithguard stood proud firing at the oncoming machine. The five lifeless warriors paused as the Wraithlord stepped over them, its huge tread crushing one of the foul abominations.
?Wraithguard, turn to me and defend,? he shouted.
The five creatures turned instantly, their weapons sitting tightly in their grasp. The Farseer ran past them, the creatures began firing as the five Necron?tyr warriors marched into view. The heavily build machines firing their weapons with greater effect than Melenshar had seen of the warriors. The Farseer watched as the warriors faltered, both wraith and Necron?tyr fell in equal measure. Melenshar concentrated, his mind reaching deep within the heart of the craftworld to find the strength. He smiled as his mind exploded in a fire of fury and hated. His eyes burned as he began to utter the words of Kaela Mensha Khaine. The Eldar unleashed the bolt of fire, its fury ripping the foul Necron?tyr apart.
He felt his body grow in weight, his very bones seeming to carry the weight of the craftworld. A shadow loomed over him, he could feel the soul within it burn with hatred and love. The Wraithlord bowed before him, its head lowered in respect. The aspect Farseer ran his hand across its featureless face.
?Rise warrior of Yme-Loc, I do not deserve your respect. This fight will see the end of us, but we are Eldar and we do not give in to the enemy. We must fight until Yme-Loc is free of this ancient malice.?
The Wraithlords thoughts penetrated Melenshar?s mind ?can we not call our brothers? Can we not call on the Eldar of Lugganath? Can we not call on the warriors of Lyanden or Ulthw???
?No warrior of the bone, we cannot. Things have changed, we are rejected and exiled. We are the world of the ranger, the exiled warrior who cannot call on those who would not know them. My friend, we are alone and doomed.?
The Wraithlord did not speak. It rose to its feet with its lance weapon raised. It steps forwards into the dying world ready to make its fate. Melenshar knew the warrior would die, he could feel it in every ripple of time and path. The Farseer walked away from it, there was a single path left to take for him. The future was clouded, but he could see something of the Eldar surviving in this path.