Post by Doran'nan M'yenshi on Dec 25, 2010 1:16:27 GMT -5
Name: Doran'nan
Race: T'au
Sex: Male
Physical Description: Typical build as any other Tau, the only thing that sets him apart is a large gash running down his right eye.
Personality: An optimisitc and charismatic though occasionally reckless leader who relies on tactical superiority to win fights. Leads from his Command XV81 Crisis Suit and is usually seen hot in the battle
Caste+Rank: Shas'el
Sept: Vior'la
Title: Shas’el Vior’la Doran’nan M’yenshi
Equipment
On Person: Bonding Knife, Pulse Pistol.
On XV81:
Back-mounted Smart Missile system
Air-burst Fragmentation Grenade Projector
Fusion Blaster
Drone Controller
-Shield Drone
-Marker-light Drone
Command and Control Node
Black-sun Filter
Ejector System
NPCs:
History: Managed to defeat Space Marine Sargeant in hand to hand combat as a Shas'ui of his squad. Fought across Warp-infested battlegrounds for years without reinforcements or backup, leading only the units he came in with.
Doran'nan received his name because he was never much of a good shot. While hot-blooded as all Vior'la were known to be at times, he showed miraculous clarity in the heat of battle. While not the best with combat, Doran'nan was an excellent tactician, and a charismatic leader. He was never afraid to be right alongside his Shas'la, getting pinned down with his warriors, and making sure they made it out alive when needed.
He earned his name, "Doran'nan" or "Calm Sword" When leading his expeditionary force, Mont'yr Kauyon, through a Chaos world. Besieged by daemons, Chaos Cultist Guard, and Corrupt Mechanicus, the Shas'ui at the time was forced to reign control of the entire deployed force when their Shas'el went down from a Great Bloodthirster's death throes soon after its demise. Instead of letting the command fall to pieces, Doran'nan climbed into the open cockpit of his former Shas'el's XV8 Command Crisis Suit, and took control of the battle, using an unfamiliar machine to coordinate the return attack and push the forces back until his units could retreat. He was one of the last people back, his burst cannon had fired so much that the barrels melted and seized up. Due to his actions, the unit made it out with only 65% casualties, and 15% dead, a much favorable number to the 95% predicted loss when the bloodthirster had shown up. For keeping his calm, clear head in the heat of what would have been disaster, Doran'nan received his title and advancement to Shas'el. This got him command of his own XV81 battlesuit, and leader position of the Mont'yr Kauyon Expeditionary Fighting Forces Unit.
His second title was earned during one of the more tragic and horrifying experiences of Doran'nan's career, one which would scar him and later turn him toward a more Farsight-esque view on battle and the Tau. While conducting patrols in a remote sector, a stray warp storm engulfed the fleet and spat it out, without harm, across the galaxy to be plunged into hellworld after hellworld. It seemed as if the Chaos Gods were merely testing the Tau, for their strengths, or if they just wished to watch them get slaughtered. What they did not expect was for the Tau to fight back so effectively, and so valiantly.
Leading his forces without backup, without resources, for months, on a hellish, twisted, barren hell world, one after another, Doran'nan managed to rack up an impressive kill list, and kill-death ratio all across his entire force. After months, they found their way back to the T'au system, and recovered slowly, but not without cost to the Mont'yr Kayoun's sanity and belief in the Greater Good. During these fights, Doran'nan managed to overcome a Space Marine sergeant in hand-to-hand combat, and was jokingly given the title "M'yenshi" For "Unforeseen Victory". The title stuck and after getting noticed in an After-Action Report, was officially given to the esteemed Shas'el.
RP Example:
Debris sprinkled the ground and screams rose from the battle lines. Shas'el Doran'nan M'yenshi, clad in his beaten, worn and battle-scarred Firewarrior armor gazed over the line,
"Keep it together Shas'la! Stand strong in the face of the enemy!" he called over the communications. The seasoned Shas'el ducked back down to avoid tracing stubber rounds as the cursed Guardsmen laid down fire. Red bolts traced the sky over their heads and the grumbling sounds of a Chimera along with shouting, gibbering humans told the defending forces of the Mont'yr Kauyon that another offensive wave was headed their way. But it was smaller this time. Only one support vehicle this time, and less human offenders.
Automated Gun drones on the front of the Hammerhead nearby swiveled, sporting Burst Cannons as the manta-shaped tank sat dormant under its blood-red camouflage. The tank was a last resort. To stay hidden until absolutely needed. Powered down and tucked into a small ridge and covered in the blood-soaked sand that was commonplace on this hellish world.
The world was dubbed MKX-007, or the seventh planet to be discovered by the Mont'yr Kauyon Expeditionary forces. They had been lead here by their Shas'el, and now were stuck as an ion storm crippled their ability to get communications out to the fleet. Doran'nan was sent with a small force to scout the planet and search for any signs of life. At first they had found nothing but barren realms of hellishly-colored landscapes. Until they ran into the Gue'la.
These weren't like the normal enemies they fought, though. These were much more aggressive and screamed to arcane gods, calling for blood simply to spill blood in the name of some fiend from beyond the Warp. The Guardsmen were covered in strange sigils and some were mutated with claw-like limbs, or tendrils that spat acid.
The humans hadn't even tried to initiate contact, they simply started firing upon the Expeditionary forces, cutting down an entire squad in the first few seconds, and leaving the rest to fall back. So Shas'el Doran'nan had led his fighting forces back to a ditch, dug in, and waited. It had been an hour or so, and they were still trying to establish comms. The ion storm was dying down, and small signal bursts were reaching them, but total communication was not feasible. For now, they had a foe to contend with.
The skies were beginning to rain blood once more, and this brought the memories flooding back to him.
It had rained again that day. The blood of the fallen mingled with what was left of the planet's natural water sources to collect in the heavens and descend upon a misty pink fog. The Kroot were thrown off, the Vespid refused to step out of their shelters. Everything smelled, tasted, and looked like it was soaked in blood. The air was permeated with the life-sustaining substance.
The lurid, crimson skies beat down over the M'yenshi encampment. The enemy had massed over the next ridge, chasing us with small, attack packs the entire morning. It was midday, and earlier they had taken out the left side of one of our remaining Devilfish when their Predators flanked under the cover of a frontal infantry charge.
We were slowly retreating, trapped on this alien world of death and daemons, as the Gue'la called them. Shas'el Garna'mi Ul'senthin was leading us, after the mishap which brought us there. He was a valiant leader, and fiercely protective of us. But even he was being weighed down under the losses, his decisions were getting sloppy and he had gotten one of the XV8s critically wounded. The pilot nearly dying to a pack of gibbering, pinkish horror creatures. Luckily we pulled him out before they could claim him, the suit's system overloaded itself and detonated on them, wreathing the scene in a blaze of gore and plasma. The Hammerhead had punched straight into the Predator the moment it fired on the Devilfish, and that sent them retreating back into the haze of bloody rain.
Morale was gone, long gone... There was no T'au to deliver us. No Ethereals to guide our minds and strengthen our resolve. It was simply Shas'la... Warriors fighting for survival. And we fought for our lives to the bitter end.
Another spray of dust as grenade thumps pounded off at the defenders' positions brought the Tau Firewarrior back to reality,
"Eno, Jento, Kein. I want your Carbines ready for a 'nade counter-assault on my signal. Fino, let me know when your markers line up a shot on the transport, and get those Missiles primed. The rest of you, ready yourselves. Steel your hearts in the face of the enemy. May T'au, and the Aun'va guide your rifles to survive this day. I want no casualties, but we will retreat to fall-back points A and B if necessary, there we have Yuno and his Crisis Suits to launch the Killing Blow. For Ta'u Shas'la! For T'au!"
The cry echoed down the line as teams split into formations, shield drones flared to life and all along the dug-in trench, Tau readied themselves for the coming battle.
"Underslung Photons ready, Shas'el. Waiting for your signal."
"Fino here, markerlight ready for your call."
The moment came. Time slowed and the humans marched, crying the names of their cursed gods and the blood they sought to reap into the skies as they marched to their doom.
"Do it."
The sky erupted into white flashes as the underslung photon launchers on the carbines sent the photonic blobs toward the oncoming humans. Screams rose up as the detonating grenades disoriented and stunned the attacks. Barely a second later, automated drones lifted from the ground in the midst of the troops, floating on anti-gravitic generators and swiveling to spray dual-carbine plasma rounds at near point-blank into the attackers.
Men screamed and fell, bodies burst apart. The smell of burnt flesh rose to the sky as the first warriors fell in groups of tens. Next came the automatic fire from the long-range Pulse Rifles all along the trench. Brilliant flashes of blue plasma splashed the oncoming horde, sending screaming humans to the dirt, and melting huge holes through their flak armor. One man's head exploded into bluish-white flames as his body fell away, another still lost his arm as he tried to return fire, the limb severed at the elbow, the weapon spinning to spray fire into his comrades. The area was chaos on the front-line. Even Doran'nan through his own weapon into play, squeezing off a few well-aimed shots.
Here a man's head exploded into fiery gore, the smoking body dropping, the man dead before hitting the ground. Another burst of his rifle and two more oncoming blasphemers were swiftly put to rest, falling to add their blood to the brick-colored dust.
The only thing that kept moving was the Chimera. Slowly rumbling, the half-track sprayed liquid death in the form of Promethium into the trench-line. Cries rose up and men scattered as Jento squad took a direct spray. The Shield drone's protective barrier flared brightly as it curled back the incoming spray, and the squad members just managed to retreat before the shield burst once in whitish light, then died out with a fizzle of ozone and failing magnetic fields. Where Jento once was, now a smoking pool of promethium remained.
Then the hammerhead came to life. The soft, electronic whine of plasma jet engines roared up and the anti-gravimitic fields erupted to life. Like a slumbering bear shaking off ice from its fur after hibernation, the hammerhead shook blood-red sand off its hull and turned its turret onto the Chimera. The half-track tried to make a hard right, slamming through their own soldiers to throw the aim of the deadly rail weapon off, but the cannon flared. Magnetic coils rippled with bluish light, electromagnetic systems launching the highly conductive metal toward the other tank. There seemed to be a moment of silence as the shell entered the vehicle and for a moment it seemed as if minimal damage had been dealt. The vehicle rolled a few more meters, then abruptly exploded into a brilliant ball of corrupt, purplish hellflames, scattering shrapnel, dirt, and debris around its allied, ending several men's lies in one instant.
The sounds of battle died down as the last men turned to retreat, and were cut down by precisely aimed, and trained warriors of the Mont'yr Kauyon's Shas'la detachment. Cheers rose out above the raucous of dying and wounded. No casualties had been dealt. Even the little drone from Jento suffered only minor burns from the conflict.
But the fight was far from over.
A loud, thumping, harsh sound came out of the dust, and two of the ambush drones shuddered, spat smoke, then exploded into blue-white balls of plasma flames and crashed to the earth. The others didn't last much longer. Immediately the cheering died down,
"Get back to the line, Shas'la! We have more enemies in-bound! Tai-lo! Did you get command on the line?"
"Yes, Shas'el! They are sending the Piranhas! We have to hold down for five minutes!" Shouted the young communications Shas'la over the din of the renewed battle.
Five minutes could be an eternity, or it could be quick. The sound of roaring auto-fire as stubber shells ripped up the ground near the Shas'el's head told him it would probably be an eternity. Cursing lightly, Doran'nan put his rifle on the edge of the ridge and laid down some fire with his bondmates, his squad.
Combined with the other three squads' fire, and the twin burst cannons from the Hammerhead, what should have been an easy, efficient counter-attack turned into a blood bath. Shells and las-rounds bounced off the hammerhead's forward armor plating harmlessly as the tank laid a relentless spray of ionic death upon the foe. Several guardsmen from the human side turned and ran, getting cut down as they did so, but some pushed on. Whipped into a frenzy by their evil gods, they swarmed in to die.
The line pushed in, and casualties started mounting on the defenders' side. All along the comm channels, reports of wounded were coming in as the enemy closed distance. They were passed the burnt-out carcass of the APC at this point, swarming over it to charge like the mad, gibbering men they were toward the Tau lines.
It seemed as though the battle would turn to a melee, and Doran'nan drew his bonding knife, stabbing it into the ridge as he readied himself. The weapon wasn't intended for combat, but it could be used to stab if necessary. The Shas'el continued to fire his plasma rifle, spitting blue-white blobs of super-heated metals toward his foes, dropping them one by one. But for every one, it seemed two more took their place.
It was at that moment, before the lines smashed into each other, that the Air Caste came into play. Missiles arced and roared overhead, screaming down from the sky to smash into the enemy lines. Plumes of brick-red dirt shot to the heavens, followed by the screams of dying men. Plasma sprayed down over the field as a squadron of Piranha's swooped down and strafed the lines, scattering even the most zealous of the warriors.
That didn't stop the lines from connecting, but cut the entire force in half length-wise, and so those who entered melee with the Tau would be cut off from their back-up.
The first soldier slammed into Doran'nan after taking the Shas'el's plasma burst to his thigh. The two rolled back, armor clanking against one another, grunting in pain. Doran'nan pulled his legs to his chest and kicked out, shoving the man off of him long enough to raise his rifle and spit plasma into the offender's chest. Another attacker leapt down into the ditch from the Shas'el's right, slicing a tainted power sword downward upon the length of his plasma rifle, slicing it in half and rendering it useless.
The weapon fell away and Doran'nan dove for his bonding knife, ripping it from the dirt as the next slice from the attacker's blade missed and sizzled into the dirt. Turning around, the human raised his weapon again, only to find a sharp blade piercing his left breast. Gasping in pain, the man panicked and slammed his fist into the offender, sending Doran'nan's helmet skittering off his head and into the dirt. Blood trickling down his face.
The smaller bluish-grey alien grappled the human's sword arm, holding it up with his right arm as he dislodged the knife with his left. Armor met armor as the human sergeant kneed Doran'nan in the stomach, sending him back gasping. It would have been the end of the Shas'el, were it not for the burst of ion cannon that enveloped the Sergeant, keeling him over to the dust.
The raucous of war died down around the lines, the main force driven back by air detachments as dropships landed behind the Tau lines to pick up wounded and evac the force. Doran'nan looked upon his savior: Some nameless soldier in an XV8 Crisis Suit which had already moved on to assist elsewhere. The seasoned Tau Firewarrior scooped his helmet back up, wiped his chin of blood and placed it back on to coordinate the retreat.
The rain came down harder, and the haggard troops of Doran'nan's detachment melted back into the dropships. The ride was solemn and quiet - they had lost comrades. Their honor would live on in the glory of Tau, and their families sent honors and their bodies. But for now they would stored on the fleet's ships. Grounded by the ion storms as they were. Only atmospheric flight was possible.
Doran'nan was sitting in the bay of the transport ship, staring into the twin-optical lenses of his helmet when a shrill alarm rose. Lurching without warning, the ship shuddered and a loud, groaning sound of metal echoed throughout. Firewarriors with similarly confused faces stared toward their Shas'el for explanation. Doran'nan slipped his helmet back on and grabbed up his Pulse Rifle, hooves stomping toward the cockpit.
The Captain barely made it three steps when the world erupted flames, screams, light and then darkness.
The transports plummeted, plumes of smoke and debris both trailing and preceding the crashing Air Caste vehicle on its way to the blood-red earth. Dark forces watched with unbidden malice and glee as plumes of brick-colored dirt and white smoke rose into the ion storm-plagued skies.
Several more transport ships suffered the same fate as their lead in the wake of a 'freak' warp storm which systematically destroyed engines and disrupted communciation.
The forces of Chaos were already moving toward their quarry, and they would wreak bloody havok in the name of the ruinous powers of Chaos...
Race: T'au
Sex: Male
Physical Description: Typical build as any other Tau, the only thing that sets him apart is a large gash running down his right eye.
Personality: An optimisitc and charismatic though occasionally reckless leader who relies on tactical superiority to win fights. Leads from his Command XV81 Crisis Suit and is usually seen hot in the battle
Caste+Rank: Shas'el
Sept: Vior'la
Title: Shas’el Vior’la Doran’nan M’yenshi
Equipment
On Person: Bonding Knife, Pulse Pistol.
On XV81:
Back-mounted Smart Missile system
Air-burst Fragmentation Grenade Projector
Fusion Blaster
Drone Controller
-Shield Drone
-Marker-light Drone
Command and Control Node
Black-sun Filter
Ejector System
NPCs:
History: Managed to defeat Space Marine Sargeant in hand to hand combat as a Shas'ui of his squad. Fought across Warp-infested battlegrounds for years without reinforcements or backup, leading only the units he came in with.
Doran'nan received his name because he was never much of a good shot. While hot-blooded as all Vior'la were known to be at times, he showed miraculous clarity in the heat of battle. While not the best with combat, Doran'nan was an excellent tactician, and a charismatic leader. He was never afraid to be right alongside his Shas'la, getting pinned down with his warriors, and making sure they made it out alive when needed.
He earned his name, "Doran'nan" or "Calm Sword" When leading his expeditionary force, Mont'yr Kauyon, through a Chaos world. Besieged by daemons, Chaos Cultist Guard, and Corrupt Mechanicus, the Shas'ui at the time was forced to reign control of the entire deployed force when their Shas'el went down from a Great Bloodthirster's death throes soon after its demise. Instead of letting the command fall to pieces, Doran'nan climbed into the open cockpit of his former Shas'el's XV8 Command Crisis Suit, and took control of the battle, using an unfamiliar machine to coordinate the return attack and push the forces back until his units could retreat. He was one of the last people back, his burst cannon had fired so much that the barrels melted and seized up. Due to his actions, the unit made it out with only 65% casualties, and 15% dead, a much favorable number to the 95% predicted loss when the bloodthirster had shown up. For keeping his calm, clear head in the heat of what would have been disaster, Doran'nan received his title and advancement to Shas'el. This got him command of his own XV81 battlesuit, and leader position of the Mont'yr Kauyon Expeditionary Fighting Forces Unit.
His second title was earned during one of the more tragic and horrifying experiences of Doran'nan's career, one which would scar him and later turn him toward a more Farsight-esque view on battle and the Tau. While conducting patrols in a remote sector, a stray warp storm engulfed the fleet and spat it out, without harm, across the galaxy to be plunged into hellworld after hellworld. It seemed as if the Chaos Gods were merely testing the Tau, for their strengths, or if they just wished to watch them get slaughtered. What they did not expect was for the Tau to fight back so effectively, and so valiantly.
Leading his forces without backup, without resources, for months, on a hellish, twisted, barren hell world, one after another, Doran'nan managed to rack up an impressive kill list, and kill-death ratio all across his entire force. After months, they found their way back to the T'au system, and recovered slowly, but not without cost to the Mont'yr Kayoun's sanity and belief in the Greater Good. During these fights, Doran'nan managed to overcome a Space Marine sergeant in hand-to-hand combat, and was jokingly given the title "M'yenshi" For "Unforeseen Victory". The title stuck and after getting noticed in an After-Action Report, was officially given to the esteemed Shas'el.
RP Example:
Debris sprinkled the ground and screams rose from the battle lines. Shas'el Doran'nan M'yenshi, clad in his beaten, worn and battle-scarred Firewarrior armor gazed over the line,
"Keep it together Shas'la! Stand strong in the face of the enemy!" he called over the communications. The seasoned Shas'el ducked back down to avoid tracing stubber rounds as the cursed Guardsmen laid down fire. Red bolts traced the sky over their heads and the grumbling sounds of a Chimera along with shouting, gibbering humans told the defending forces of the Mont'yr Kauyon that another offensive wave was headed their way. But it was smaller this time. Only one support vehicle this time, and less human offenders.
Automated Gun drones on the front of the Hammerhead nearby swiveled, sporting Burst Cannons as the manta-shaped tank sat dormant under its blood-red camouflage. The tank was a last resort. To stay hidden until absolutely needed. Powered down and tucked into a small ridge and covered in the blood-soaked sand that was commonplace on this hellish world.
The world was dubbed MKX-007, or the seventh planet to be discovered by the Mont'yr Kauyon Expeditionary forces. They had been lead here by their Shas'el, and now were stuck as an ion storm crippled their ability to get communications out to the fleet. Doran'nan was sent with a small force to scout the planet and search for any signs of life. At first they had found nothing but barren realms of hellishly-colored landscapes. Until they ran into the Gue'la.
These weren't like the normal enemies they fought, though. These were much more aggressive and screamed to arcane gods, calling for blood simply to spill blood in the name of some fiend from beyond the Warp. The Guardsmen were covered in strange sigils and some were mutated with claw-like limbs, or tendrils that spat acid.
The humans hadn't even tried to initiate contact, they simply started firing upon the Expeditionary forces, cutting down an entire squad in the first few seconds, and leaving the rest to fall back. So Shas'el Doran'nan had led his fighting forces back to a ditch, dug in, and waited. It had been an hour or so, and they were still trying to establish comms. The ion storm was dying down, and small signal bursts were reaching them, but total communication was not feasible. For now, they had a foe to contend with.
The skies were beginning to rain blood once more, and this brought the memories flooding back to him.
It had rained again that day. The blood of the fallen mingled with what was left of the planet's natural water sources to collect in the heavens and descend upon a misty pink fog. The Kroot were thrown off, the Vespid refused to step out of their shelters. Everything smelled, tasted, and looked like it was soaked in blood. The air was permeated with the life-sustaining substance.
The lurid, crimson skies beat down over the M'yenshi encampment. The enemy had massed over the next ridge, chasing us with small, attack packs the entire morning. It was midday, and earlier they had taken out the left side of one of our remaining Devilfish when their Predators flanked under the cover of a frontal infantry charge.
We were slowly retreating, trapped on this alien world of death and daemons, as the Gue'la called them. Shas'el Garna'mi Ul'senthin was leading us, after the mishap which brought us there. He was a valiant leader, and fiercely protective of us. But even he was being weighed down under the losses, his decisions were getting sloppy and he had gotten one of the XV8s critically wounded. The pilot nearly dying to a pack of gibbering, pinkish horror creatures. Luckily we pulled him out before they could claim him, the suit's system overloaded itself and detonated on them, wreathing the scene in a blaze of gore and plasma. The Hammerhead had punched straight into the Predator the moment it fired on the Devilfish, and that sent them retreating back into the haze of bloody rain.
Morale was gone, long gone... There was no T'au to deliver us. No Ethereals to guide our minds and strengthen our resolve. It was simply Shas'la... Warriors fighting for survival. And we fought for our lives to the bitter end.
Another spray of dust as grenade thumps pounded off at the defenders' positions brought the Tau Firewarrior back to reality,
"Eno, Jento, Kein. I want your Carbines ready for a 'nade counter-assault on my signal. Fino, let me know when your markers line up a shot on the transport, and get those Missiles primed. The rest of you, ready yourselves. Steel your hearts in the face of the enemy. May T'au, and the Aun'va guide your rifles to survive this day. I want no casualties, but we will retreat to fall-back points A and B if necessary, there we have Yuno and his Crisis Suits to launch the Killing Blow. For Ta'u Shas'la! For T'au!"
The cry echoed down the line as teams split into formations, shield drones flared to life and all along the dug-in trench, Tau readied themselves for the coming battle.
"Underslung Photons ready, Shas'el. Waiting for your signal."
"Fino here, markerlight ready for your call."
The moment came. Time slowed and the humans marched, crying the names of their cursed gods and the blood they sought to reap into the skies as they marched to their doom.
"Do it."
The sky erupted into white flashes as the underslung photon launchers on the carbines sent the photonic blobs toward the oncoming humans. Screams rose up as the detonating grenades disoriented and stunned the attacks. Barely a second later, automated drones lifted from the ground in the midst of the troops, floating on anti-gravitic generators and swiveling to spray dual-carbine plasma rounds at near point-blank into the attackers.
Men screamed and fell, bodies burst apart. The smell of burnt flesh rose to the sky as the first warriors fell in groups of tens. Next came the automatic fire from the long-range Pulse Rifles all along the trench. Brilliant flashes of blue plasma splashed the oncoming horde, sending screaming humans to the dirt, and melting huge holes through their flak armor. One man's head exploded into bluish-white flames as his body fell away, another still lost his arm as he tried to return fire, the limb severed at the elbow, the weapon spinning to spray fire into his comrades. The area was chaos on the front-line. Even Doran'nan through his own weapon into play, squeezing off a few well-aimed shots.
Here a man's head exploded into fiery gore, the smoking body dropping, the man dead before hitting the ground. Another burst of his rifle and two more oncoming blasphemers were swiftly put to rest, falling to add their blood to the brick-colored dust.
The only thing that kept moving was the Chimera. Slowly rumbling, the half-track sprayed liquid death in the form of Promethium into the trench-line. Cries rose up and men scattered as Jento squad took a direct spray. The Shield drone's protective barrier flared brightly as it curled back the incoming spray, and the squad members just managed to retreat before the shield burst once in whitish light, then died out with a fizzle of ozone and failing magnetic fields. Where Jento once was, now a smoking pool of promethium remained.
Then the hammerhead came to life. The soft, electronic whine of plasma jet engines roared up and the anti-gravimitic fields erupted to life. Like a slumbering bear shaking off ice from its fur after hibernation, the hammerhead shook blood-red sand off its hull and turned its turret onto the Chimera. The half-track tried to make a hard right, slamming through their own soldiers to throw the aim of the deadly rail weapon off, but the cannon flared. Magnetic coils rippled with bluish light, electromagnetic systems launching the highly conductive metal toward the other tank. There seemed to be a moment of silence as the shell entered the vehicle and for a moment it seemed as if minimal damage had been dealt. The vehicle rolled a few more meters, then abruptly exploded into a brilliant ball of corrupt, purplish hellflames, scattering shrapnel, dirt, and debris around its allied, ending several men's lies in one instant.
The sounds of battle died down as the last men turned to retreat, and were cut down by precisely aimed, and trained warriors of the Mont'yr Kauyon's Shas'la detachment. Cheers rose out above the raucous of dying and wounded. No casualties had been dealt. Even the little drone from Jento suffered only minor burns from the conflict.
But the fight was far from over.
A loud, thumping, harsh sound came out of the dust, and two of the ambush drones shuddered, spat smoke, then exploded into blue-white balls of plasma flames and crashed to the earth. The others didn't last much longer. Immediately the cheering died down,
"Get back to the line, Shas'la! We have more enemies in-bound! Tai-lo! Did you get command on the line?"
"Yes, Shas'el! They are sending the Piranhas! We have to hold down for five minutes!" Shouted the young communications Shas'la over the din of the renewed battle.
Five minutes could be an eternity, or it could be quick. The sound of roaring auto-fire as stubber shells ripped up the ground near the Shas'el's head told him it would probably be an eternity. Cursing lightly, Doran'nan put his rifle on the edge of the ridge and laid down some fire with his bondmates, his squad.
Combined with the other three squads' fire, and the twin burst cannons from the Hammerhead, what should have been an easy, efficient counter-attack turned into a blood bath. Shells and las-rounds bounced off the hammerhead's forward armor plating harmlessly as the tank laid a relentless spray of ionic death upon the foe. Several guardsmen from the human side turned and ran, getting cut down as they did so, but some pushed on. Whipped into a frenzy by their evil gods, they swarmed in to die.
The line pushed in, and casualties started mounting on the defenders' side. All along the comm channels, reports of wounded were coming in as the enemy closed distance. They were passed the burnt-out carcass of the APC at this point, swarming over it to charge like the mad, gibbering men they were toward the Tau lines.
It seemed as though the battle would turn to a melee, and Doran'nan drew his bonding knife, stabbing it into the ridge as he readied himself. The weapon wasn't intended for combat, but it could be used to stab if necessary. The Shas'el continued to fire his plasma rifle, spitting blue-white blobs of super-heated metals toward his foes, dropping them one by one. But for every one, it seemed two more took their place.
It was at that moment, before the lines smashed into each other, that the Air Caste came into play. Missiles arced and roared overhead, screaming down from the sky to smash into the enemy lines. Plumes of brick-red dirt shot to the heavens, followed by the screams of dying men. Plasma sprayed down over the field as a squadron of Piranha's swooped down and strafed the lines, scattering even the most zealous of the warriors.
That didn't stop the lines from connecting, but cut the entire force in half length-wise, and so those who entered melee with the Tau would be cut off from their back-up.
The first soldier slammed into Doran'nan after taking the Shas'el's plasma burst to his thigh. The two rolled back, armor clanking against one another, grunting in pain. Doran'nan pulled his legs to his chest and kicked out, shoving the man off of him long enough to raise his rifle and spit plasma into the offender's chest. Another attacker leapt down into the ditch from the Shas'el's right, slicing a tainted power sword downward upon the length of his plasma rifle, slicing it in half and rendering it useless.
The weapon fell away and Doran'nan dove for his bonding knife, ripping it from the dirt as the next slice from the attacker's blade missed and sizzled into the dirt. Turning around, the human raised his weapon again, only to find a sharp blade piercing his left breast. Gasping in pain, the man panicked and slammed his fist into the offender, sending Doran'nan's helmet skittering off his head and into the dirt. Blood trickling down his face.
The smaller bluish-grey alien grappled the human's sword arm, holding it up with his right arm as he dislodged the knife with his left. Armor met armor as the human sergeant kneed Doran'nan in the stomach, sending him back gasping. It would have been the end of the Shas'el, were it not for the burst of ion cannon that enveloped the Sergeant, keeling him over to the dust.
The raucous of war died down around the lines, the main force driven back by air detachments as dropships landed behind the Tau lines to pick up wounded and evac the force. Doran'nan looked upon his savior: Some nameless soldier in an XV8 Crisis Suit which had already moved on to assist elsewhere. The seasoned Tau Firewarrior scooped his helmet back up, wiped his chin of blood and placed it back on to coordinate the retreat.
The rain came down harder, and the haggard troops of Doran'nan's detachment melted back into the dropships. The ride was solemn and quiet - they had lost comrades. Their honor would live on in the glory of Tau, and their families sent honors and their bodies. But for now they would stored on the fleet's ships. Grounded by the ion storms as they were. Only atmospheric flight was possible.
Doran'nan was sitting in the bay of the transport ship, staring into the twin-optical lenses of his helmet when a shrill alarm rose. Lurching without warning, the ship shuddered and a loud, groaning sound of metal echoed throughout. Firewarriors with similarly confused faces stared toward their Shas'el for explanation. Doran'nan slipped his helmet back on and grabbed up his Pulse Rifle, hooves stomping toward the cockpit.
The Captain barely made it three steps when the world erupted flames, screams, light and then darkness.
The transports plummeted, plumes of smoke and debris both trailing and preceding the crashing Air Caste vehicle on its way to the blood-red earth. Dark forces watched with unbidden malice and glee as plumes of brick-colored dirt and white smoke rose into the ion storm-plagued skies.
Several more transport ships suffered the same fate as their lead in the wake of a 'freak' warp storm which systematically destroyed engines and disrupted communciation.
The forces of Chaos were already moving toward their quarry, and they would wreak bloody havok in the name of the ruinous powers of Chaos...