Anatoly charges into the fray to assist the commissar, firing his integrated las weapon on the charge and swings with his new servo arm.
The shot goes wide - very nearly hitting the Commissar - alerting the Xeno of his imminent arrival. The nimble creature swings around, raises his second melee weapon and turns the ill-aimed swing aside with ease.
The right Xeno, finding himself locked in close combat with a Commissar and an Enginseer, pulls a fist-sized crystaline object from his belt and drops it before vanishing in a blur of purple haze. The crystal ball hits the ground and starts glowing and wailing in a horribly familiar way, rendering Yeta and Anatoly momentarily blind and deafened.
The left one swiftly retreats to the bulwark, which is no longer closed, firing his gun at the packed imperials in general and Sizzle in particular.
The weapons report is peculiar, akin to overstrained steel ropes ripping and whipping about.
From the nuzzle of the gun a mess of nestling, bucking and flailing stuff erupts.
With a hasty roll, Sizzle gets out of harms way in the nick of time, allowing the steadily expanding web-like stuff pass him - hitting the female Navy trooper behind him and reducing her to bloody chunks wherever the strings of the web touch her, splattering Bolus with blood and tiny body parts.
Knowing he's not going to do much with his lasgun and seeing the right corridor the filthy xenos are fleeing toward, Sizzle pops one of his kraks and cooks it good before tossing it.
Sizzles grenade overshoots slightly, landing behind the fleeting Xeno and detonates immediately upon impact.
The Xeno does not manage to get out of the powerful blast and is thrown back out of the doorframe, its shining armor torn and singed, bright red blood oozing from its back. Judging from graoning sounds, the creature is not dead yet, but certainly wounded and stunned from the powerful blast.
Sizzle doesn't look at the blast, but he knows what has happened as soon as he senses a body flying past. He's on the stunned xenos in a second, full auto shots raining into the shattered xeno's back.
Clearly the alien dies.
At the chest of the alien, a small crystal has started to faintly glow, following Sizzles execution of the Xeno.
The fight ends as fast as it had begun.
Everyone can come round. The vox is ruined. The door to the water distribution room is open.
It is pitch dark inside and the roaring of machines is very loud indeed now.
Sizzle, his attention firmly on his target, checks the body for anything that has survived that the Techpriest might want a look at. He's also looking for any intel that might have survived on the body like where the filthy xenos are based.
We must let the entire ship now of this infestation Commissar Bolus thunders ignoring the blood on him as his vision returns. And then root the rest of the rats out of this bastion of humanity
"Vox ruined? Well, that's a bummer, but it's pretty familiar.
Bet they ruined it on purpose, to stop us from calling in reinforcements or send out warnings."
Seeing that one of the squad is examining the body of the xenos, Anatoly prioritizes communication. Moving over to the destroyed vox, he examines it for the possibility of repair and also to see if he can patch his own internal vox into the ship network using the damaged remains of this console.
Sizzle finishes his examination quickly, including rolling the xenos over to get a better look at something on the shoulder. Sir, this these picture-word things on the shoulder armor here are drawn in blood that's not quite fresh, but not dry yet. Its boots are also wet! It probably came from someplace with lots of water.
Anatoly can inform the Commissar that the intercom is beyond repair and has to be replaced completely.
He is still poking around in the half-melted ruins of the station with one of his mechadendrites though.
Whether this is some kind of moaning, simple habit or he is up to something else is everyones guess.
The iconography Sizzle is showing, matches the imprint Anatoly produced from the Servitor in the first room but with a lot more details to it - naturally enough.
The Commissar seethes with anger but as his hearing is not impaired quickly notices that the fight is very much over even before his vision returns - again. He vents his anger by punching in the Xenos' Skull through its helmeted head before turning to address the Troops.
"I agree with purging the xenos, Father. Informing the rest of the ship however is a trap set by the xenos. They want us to split up to inform the ship so they can pick off the smaller group. If the Xenos had the strength to seriously endanger the ship they would not have played this hide and seek game for oh so many years.
The Enginseer will receive a moment to see if that piece of slag metal is fixable. If not then I want a quick check if the direction of the missing aliens teleport is tracable. After that the Enginseer can see if he can boost our own combeads to reach the regiment. According to our navy friend here our quarters are not far, just on different level.
While he is doing that. Line up. Specialist Sizzle, step forward.
Your quick reaction and commendable effectiveness facing the Alien Scum in service to the god emperors forces are recognized. You will receive a commendation uppon completion of this missiong.
Now back in formation and cover our surroundings. I don't know how far they can teleport but I guess not too far - or they wouldn't have bothered dealing with us. We'll move out as soon as we have a direction or confirmation from the Enginseer that we're not getting a direction."
With this impromptu award ceremony done the Commissar makes sure a perimeter is set up so anything approaching is sighted by a gun. And anything teleporting into the middle is in punching distance for him. They cover for the Enginseer like that while he does his investigation.
If the expected result happens and the teleport is not tracable then they'll move out to the water purification area since Sizzles finding about the boots indicate that as the likely xenos hideout.
Without communicating with the commissar, for any such communication may be intercepted by the Eldar, Anatoly makes a few necessary adjustments to a newly exposed power feed and several of his dendrites begin to introduce subharmonics in the power running through the conduit.
Though he is often emotionally unresponsive, a smile of smug satisfaction crosses Anatoly's face as he thinks about the response his annoying subharmonics will almost certainly provoke.
After repeating his message as many times as possible, Anatoly stands and turns back to the Commissar, face once again impassive. He taps away at a dataslate as he speaks, "Sir, this Vox console is a complete loss. It will need complete replacement. It is not possible to send or receive any communications using the remains of this device. I can attempt to boost the power of our combeads, but doing so will render them useless within a word or two." He then holds out the data slate to the Commissar...
While the commissar reads the dataslate, Anatoly deploys the auspex once more and tries to locate something like a direction for the xenos teleport.
Pieces start to click into places, as Anatoly reports a secondary teleportation event immediately following the first, barely a score meter dead ahead (and a dozen meter up).
It seems you are just ahead of the lions lair.
Prayers are spoke, weapons are checked and walking orders arranged, then you move into the large, dark and loud room.
You quickly notice the ankle deep water splashing under each of your steps, explaining the wet boots of the Xeno readily.
Not a single lumen globe is operational causing a pitch black darkness only slightly interrupted by the faint sheen falling in from the corridor and father Bolus' pilot flame.
From the little light available you can only guess as for the dimensions of the room, but this one is most certainly larger than the previous one.
It is also quite a bit more decorated.
The shadowy forms of Gargoyles spring forth from the several places high up the walls, overlooking the entire room from watchful marble eyes.
Two large statues line the far wall - likely grouped around a small (or not so small) shrine, probably depicting a saint or other.
Big, iron clad machines are aligned in regular intervals, with pipework connecting each of them to a complex network of tubes and cabling snaking criss-crossed along the high ceiling.
Water can be heard drip-dropping onto the ground and the air smells damp and rusty.
Sizzle keeps his eyes peeled. This was textbook ambush territory. He knew. He'd ambushed more than a few orks back in the hive. At least three was a shrine here. Hopefully it wasn't desecrated.
The stink of the foul Xenos shall be purged from every atom of this place. It will be made sacred again to the God Emperor!
So, The father is on the left, that means I go to the right, and I look for the most likely place to shoot the father from, because that is where the enemy will be, taking aim at the loudest mouth.
Brilliant! Sometimes I impress even myself.
The remaining six of you advance carefully into the room.
One row of large machines after the other is cleared until you are only two rows away from the alter and statues.
Some already start to wonder whether the evasive Xeno are actually still within the room or whether they did not have vacated the room the moment you moved close.
In thoughts only of course - one does not doubt the leadership of a Commissar.
Then, with a shocking suddenness a bright blue shimmering energy field jumps into existence , enveloping the altar and a couple of meters around it.
The bright glow of the field pains your eyes and leaves you dazzled for a few moments .
Blinking the dancing lights away, you find yourself looking onto a sleek, bleach-white skinned, angular faced, long-and-pointy eared Xeno in yellow and blue robes.
The energy field springs from one of his hands, the other aims a sleek pistol pointed at you.
Much more troubling is the fact that the two 'statues' you spotted before, now flank the Xeno, towering over the him (and each of you) by a good meter and half.
They are made of a bone-white substance that looks a bit like marble, but with a metallic sheen - yet seems to be flexible like leather.
Several gems are worked into their strange skin (hull? armor?), some yellow, some blue, a few red ones too.
Between their long jointed legs, banners fly, bearing the strange symbol you have seen twice now, with alien scripture running up and down the seams.
They lack any kind of face, having a polished blank surface where you would have instinctively expected some kind of face.
Each of the not-statues is holding a huge weapon in a steady grip.
An ominous purple glow emits from each barrel pointing at the squad.
The robed Xeno speaks up.
Each low-gothic syllable perfectly pronounced.
Each sentence ending in a slight sneer, leaving no doubt what he thinks of the Imperial language.
"Stop right there, Mon'Keighs or face a short time of pain and an eternity of death.
As you should be aware, we are nearly done here and once we are, we will be gone from this place and leave you to the future.
It will be my delight to finally do so in fact.
My senses will need decades to recuperate from your stinking ship and crew."
It takes a nearly superhuman effort on Asbjörns part to not speak up and let the xeno hear his reply to the arrogant demand.
Mostly it's because he want the attention on the father or Commissar instead of himself.
But he can't resist THINKING what he was about to say.
Don't like the smell Xeno? It's because your nose is too close to your mouth!
Flame will purge the stink from your senses in but a moment if you would just hold still Xenos Filth! Bolus spits out.
Sizzle isn't sure how he ended up in front, but the he is. As the Father and the Commissar take the lead Sizzle falls back next to his brother without taking the Xenos out of his sights. The last place I need to be is outside of cover.
The Commissar blinks angrily at yet another flashy entrance(literally)
He instinctivly raises his bolt pistol but seeing no path to the pompous xenos he only raises his voice - for now.
"For your crimes, including but not limited to existing as vile xenos scum in a galaxy that is his majesties by right and murdering his loyal subjects you are hereby sentenced to death. Squad: spread out and execute."
He himself moves towards the large machine to his left. (half-move: 3m) Closing the distance somewhat before breaking cover.
Yep, that ought to do it...
Asbjörn steps into cover and considers his flamer, not believing it to be quite up to the task, instead he decides he will need to pull out the more suitable plasma gun he had been looking forward to using.
"I'm all about this plasma gun, and baby, it's all about me..." He mutters in anticipation.
Anatoly carefully steps over a pipe in his way, then takes up position at the other end of the large machine, which is also providing the Boom-Brothers with cover.
The sole remaining Navy trooper, the one having confessed with Bolus, runs to the other end of the machine Bolus and Yeta are taking shelter behind.
The Xeno just keeps on talking, making no visible attempts to attack the Imperials.
"Oh my, what huge words from such a short sighted mind, oblivious of its own future.
There is no need for us to fight right now, really.
Shehh, how shall I put it, so that your simple minds can follow...
There is this possible future our farseers have foreseen.
And to make it come true..."
The two not-statue things are staying utterly motionless, their guns still trained at the average location of the group, barrels glowing.
Sizzle knows his little lasgun is going to do exactly jack against these guys, so he swaps for his Launcher. He looks up at his brother and signals that he's falling back to the second row of big machines to get set up.
Bolus sticks his new flamer, gifted from his superior through the cover he is behind and lets the holy prometheum flow over as many of the xenos as he can cover. Especially the talkative one.
"Father. Shut out the babbling Xenos with a prayer."
The Commissar grinds his teeth - not because of the droning Xenos but because even he has to accept that there is no way to charge in there yet. Thus instead he grabs a smoke grenade, pulls the pin and throws it close to the end of the pipe where it should cover their approach until they can charge the scum
Asbjörn unpacks his plasma gun and braces it against the rumbling machine, aiming it squarely at the Xeno-who-talks-too-much.
His brother hurries through the room, nearly tripping over one of the pipes - getting himself a bruised knee - and takes position at the far left and second row of the pumps. He slams into cover, the long and bulky launcher already hefted and looking for a good spot to brace it against.
Anatoly fires are speculative shot at the shimmering force field from his integrated gun, just as Bolus douses it with liquid flame.
The heavy reports of a combat shotgun can be heart from your left flank as well.
All shots as well as the burning promethium are caught by the field and simply absorbed, as if some giant vacuum cleaner were to pull them in.
You notice the Eldar pulling a short grimace at the long salvo of combat shotgun shots, before it quickly returns to the sneering alien face with the superior expression.
Yetas smoke grenade bounces once and rolls two steps closer to the barrier than he intended but soon enough a thick smoke cloud billows up.
The Eldar keeps talking as if nothing of importance had transpired, totally ignoring the first salvo of imperial attacks.
"... to make it come true, I and others like me, are sent out to cause the preconditions of said future to come to being.
Have I lost you already, simpletons?
No, well, the credit goes to the impressive ability of Warlock Iysant Arienal, that would be me, to break down complex, metaphysical processes into small and easy words, so that even a Mon'Keigh brain will understand them."
As the Eldar finally stops talking for a moment, a familiar beeping echoes over from Anatolys direction and soon enough a ripple of purple-and-blue spits out the missing teleporting Eldar from earlier right beside the first Xeno.
It takes a short bow before the talkative one and says something in a ridiculous complex sounding language, you are pretty sure would be all but impossible for a human tongue to adequately reproduce.
Above the static crackle which persisted since the shield sprang into existence, a faint female voice struggle to be heard, followed by a harsh machine voice, quickly replaced by the female voice again.
+++Anatoly, report.
To: Enginseer Dashkov. Request establishment of communication.
We're on route to your position. Two fire teams.
Five more short behind.+++
Bolus, not noticing much of anything continues to delight in the holy flame as his targets just stand there and he does not have to worry about friendly fire.
Sizzle sees the other shots get absorbed and hesitates for a moment. If his shot gets absorbed it won't pack nearly the punch it would if it detonated. How to get the most bang on that shield...
He pulls out one of his frag missiles and adjusts something on the tip of the warhead really quick.
He aims for the floor just inches in front of the bubble and lets his deadly payload fly!
Though his face does nto show it, Anatoly is extremely pleased by the swift and decisive response of Decimus Vi. He had no doubt that she would notice the inefficient harmonics and quickly resolve them into their message, but her response time was even better than he had dared hope. Truly, here was an exemplar of the Omnissiah's will!
Anatoly thinks for 63 milliseconds that he will not inform Commissar Yeta of their impending reinforcements to prevent the Eldar from learning it through their communications when he realized that if they are monitoring the Imperial comms, Decimus Vi just alerted them herself. Anatoly opens a channel to Commissar Yeta.
Engaged with Eldar forces.
Eldar protected by powerful force field.
One teleporting Eldar remains, one self-named Warlock, two large Eldar walkers.
Location is deepest extent of Fluid Distribution XXVI.>>
Seeing the Shots absorbed INTO it Yeta decides against charging it... for now at least. Still - just standing around is not his style. Neither is the indignity of jumping around thought so he uses his currently free hand to properly climb over the pipe that's blocking him.
Sizzles rocket strikes true, detonates with a deafening sound and ricocheting shrapnel and the shield visibly wavers, causing the Xeno face to distort in effort.
Following a triple-shot from the Navy shotgunner and Bolus continued flame housing, it actually fails and the Xeno staggers back, arms flailing in an attempt to restore the protective force.
Asbjörn grins wickedly as he sees an opening, aligns the plasma gun and depresses the trigger rune... only to be faced with the sound every plasma gunner fears: A high-pitched whining sound of malfunctioning coils and the hiss of emergency venting!
The moment the shield fails, the not-statues immediately raise their weapons and aim at Sizzles position, the glow of their guns getting brighter and brighter...
Then the Xeno has regained control of his shield and performs a sharp gesture towards the not-statues, causing them to stand down and the bright glow of their weapons to dissipate.
He turns around to face you.
Its voice now sounds like dropped into ice cold water.
"Know this peasants.
I was instructed not to harm those in yellow and black for one of their number will play a vital role in the crucial future.
I was not to seek your destruction but merely ensuring your arrival at the precise time-space coordinates required to shift the paths of destiny.
BUT no Eldar life shall ever be spent lightly, so stop your pointless struggle and let us wait until we arrive.
Only a few more splinters of eternity now..."
Sizzle ducks behind cover when the guns turn on him and reloads as quickly as he can.
I don't know, your buddy in the hall died pretty lightly! he goads as shoves another rocket into the breach of the launcher.
"AAAAAARGH!"
Ducking back into cover, Asbjörn furiously attempts to remove the charred and steaming remains of his flak arm guard before it literally melts into his skin.
At Sizzles gaudy words, the teleporting Xeno disappears in a blue-purple haze to the warning ping-ping of Anatolys auspex.
Where he jumped off to ... remains a mystery.
It must be pretty close though, as the re-entrance point is obviously within auspex range as it emits another ping from the device.
"He is just trying to keep out of our reach until we reach our desti-UGH!" Peeling a piece of flack from the badly burnt flesh of his arm tears a scream from Asbjörns lips, interrupting his though.
Anatoly quickly double checks the auspex to try and pin down the teleportation target of the other Eldar. While doing so he activates the vox once more, seeking a connection with Decimus Vi.
The auspex confirms Anatoly's suspicions and he opens a channel to Decimus Vi once again.
Bolus isn't listening to some degenerate Xenos anyway Come back here degenerate. My ears are shut to your foul words.
"I understand much more from your explanation than even you do. Your master has made a prophecy about the future. And then sent you here. Your grant master has forseen that you will die here today if he sent you and wants you out of his way. If it wasn't a heinous xenos I would applaud it for sending Xenos to their deaths."
The Commissar gives his version of events while moving forward and drawing his bolt pistol, loosing a burst into the shield.
Nearly simultaneous with the eruption of gunfire from your rear - pretty distant but barely audible over the roaring machines and your own gunfire, your vox crackles, this time much more clearer.
+++Thanks for the timely warning, Dashkov.
Engaging target identified as #WarpSpider# now!
Praise the Omnissiah! Destroy the Xeno!+++
The Xeno defense seems strained.
Yetas very first bolt just passes through but misses the Eldar by a good meter, the remaining bolts as well as the third rapid-fire shotgun barrage is blocked though.
At the words of the Commissar the Xeno remains silent for a moment, before replying with a single sentence:
"Your words are proof of only one thing, punisher:
A Mon'Keigh knows only the way of the Mon'Keigh."
Then, Sizzle continues his taunting and the Warlock turns back to him with a distorted face.
Through what sounds like clenched teeth and with an audible tremor between sentences he calls him out.
"So, you ended the life of a proud warrior older than your hellish Imperium itself, Mon'Keigh.
By brute force, luck and cowardice - no doubt.
Answer me: does that mean anything to you at all?
Or are you really so blinded by a false dogma as you are willing to strengthen the Great Foe by killing one of my kind without another thought?
ANSWER ME!"
Witchfire plays around the delicate hand gripping the pistol.
Someone is clearly struggling with his constraining order right now...
I don't know about any Great Enemy, unless you mean us. We're pretty great. All I know is I still haven't met anything that can take a Krack to the back and walk away. Though I need to give him and that fancy crystal-armor credit. Even Orks tend to loose a limb or two when that happens. He managed to keep all of his.
+2 blast and damage
Again Sizzle ups the Bang in his rocket and aims for maximum effect just outside the shield and near whe the others are firing, just in case that matters.
Seeing a chance wasted the Commissar aims a single bolt properly this time.
"Specialist. You're taking dangerous ground by giving praise to wasteful xenos technology. All it means is work for the trash compactor. In fact I will allow betting on how long this ancient armor will hold out against imperial waste disposal technology."
Begging your forgiveness commissar. I didn't mean to say that. Just doin' a little psychic-warfare is all. Oh, and I'll bet the armor lasts as long as an equal amount of used ration tins!
Lasgun won't do much good against that, nor will the flamer...
Checking the side of the plasma gun, Asbjörn notes it is not yet recharged for another go.
Great, and the machine spirit doesn't seem all that cooperative at the moment either...
Asbjörn stays in cover, hoping that the next shot he releases won't be as dangerous to himself.
Can only hope *I'M* The one meant to survive a bit longer eh?
To be blinded by the Dogma of the Emperor is the only way to see clearly Xenos. Bolus chants as he continues spreading the good flame of the Master of Mankind onto the Eldar.
Warlock burns for 3 damage, 2 rounds, takes damage
As the squad picks up the pace, coordination and strength of their attacks, all negotiation and talking finally fails in a cacophony of gun reports and explosions!
While Yetas bolt is sucked into nothing, Sizzles second missile of the day punches the shield out of existence, making the Eldar stagger one step back.
Several shrapnel are deflected by the thick armor of the left not-a-statue, which is immediately powering up its weapon and taking aim at Sizzles position.
The Navy trooper sees his chance and lets loose against the talkative Eldar but the nimble target evades him... and ends up in the path of Bolus' blindly-fired stream of flaming retribution!
Within seconds the high-pitched screams of the Xeno fill the room as extravagant robes turn to ash and porcelain skin curls, melts and crisps.
Despite everything, the Eldar is clearly summoning his eldrich powers ... ... but nothing seems to happen!
As the shiny Eldar starts glowing (from being lit on fire) the right not-a-statue steps protectively in front of the self-proclaimed warlock and raises his gun, barrel blazing with violet lightning - but it does not fire yet, but seems to only wait for a target to present itself.
Not so the other one.
What erupts from its barrel cannot be expressed adequately in the words of mortals.
It is ragged lightning strike of unnatural blue and purple but also a ball of pure black - at the same time.
As the lightning strike connects target (the blocky machine Sizzle covers behind) and the barrel, reality shakes, your guts clench and your eyes try and fail to comprehend the apocalypse of this part of the material world.
With a schlorp a perfect five meter sphere of reality ceases to exist around the point of impact, causing a loud thunderclap from air rushing into sudden vacuum.
Within these five meters are: quite a bit of air, half a meter of solid plasteel floor, four meter of machinery and lastly: Sizzles right shoulder.
From the ruptured machine, sparks and water fly in equal measure and a teeth-hurting grinding of machine parts can be heart from within.
+++ Target of Opportunity: Removed.
We're coming in, hold on tight guys! +++
Sizzle is expecting the shot and rolls to the left! He relocates to the other side of the machine that's now only half there and breathes a truly earnest prayer of thanks to Him on the Throne. He then reloads his launcher with a Krack round. Time to deliver some real pain!