Victory Pointless

Klotophis peered into the darkness of the tunnel, his enhanced ocular having no difficulty picking out the eroded but still plainly Necron glyphs that covered the walls.  Finally, they had found it.

“Excellent work, Rhupt.  Excellent work.”

The Geomancer nodded modestly.  “Thank you, Lord Chronomancer.  I already sent in a few waves of Scarabs to survey the labyrinth, but when none of them returned I thought it best to wait for your arrival before mounting a full expedition.”

“Most wise, most wise.” Now he had only to hope that word hadn’t yet reached-

A shadow fell over the bottom of the excavation pit where they stood.  “I hear we have found the labyrinth.”

He looked up at Farreskh.  She seemed different, somehow, and not just because of the flecks of dried blood that still clung to her necrodermis in a few places.  She looked… taller.  Sharper.

“Indeed we have, Lady Farreskh, I was just about to-”

“That is Phaerakh Farreskh, if you please, Chronomancer.  Lord Barrakhad has granted me powers of Regent.”

Klotophis couldn’t quite hide his dismay and had to rewind time a few seconds to better conceal it.  Even the second time around it was hard going.  “What… excellent news, My… Phaerakh.  I am glad that matter was settled so… fortuitously.  Now, to the matter at hand – the labyrinth is likely to be trapped.  I suggest I lead a small expedition of warriors-”

“Most selfless of you.  But it will have to wait.  The Thousand Sons appear to have taken issue with us seizing this tower off of them, and are marching this way.  We will see them off and then we shall both enter the tomb, together.”

“Your willingness to face danger alongside your unworthy subordinates is most inspiring, Your Majesty.  But as we both know I am not much of an asset on the battlefield.  Perhaps, in the interests of expediency, while you see off the Chaos threat I could…”

“COME, KLOTOPHIS.” Her words were edged with her newly-imbued command protocols, and he felt his body move to obey of its own accord.

For a moment he baulked.  He was no mere Warrior or Immortal to be ordered so.  He could resist… but not without effort, and pain.  Not without consequences.

So, he obeyed.  Mostly.  As he climbed up out of the pit one tentacle in the mass below his waist thrust itself into the loose soil and left a small object there, buried and unseen.

Then he rose over the edge of the excavation and joined Farreskh at the surface.  There were a dozen other excavation sites similar to this one dotted around the region at the base of the Tower of Murmuration.  Some still had Warriors digging in them – nobody had told them to stop yet.

“Lead on, My Phareakh.”

***

The Heldrake bore on through the Doomsday beam and came at the Necron lines.  Daemonic fire flickered out of its wounds and spilled forth from its mouth in great sheets that washed over a unit of Wraiths, melting one into bubbling slag.

Before the great draconic beast’s outstretched claws could rake into living metal, an enmitic bolt from the Hexmark Glokht popped its eyeball and burned deeper into whatever passed for the creature’s brain.

The Heldrake slammed into the ground, its daemonic essence discorporating back to the warp and leaving only its mechanical components.

Behind it came a Mutilith Vortex Beast.  Looking at it too closely still caused strange glitches to spread across her vision.  Recalling her previous experience with such a monster Farreskh signalled to the Doomsday Ark artillery to take it down while she guided the march of her Lychguard towards the Thousand Sons infantry.

Leading from the front was a political as well as tactical necessity.  She was named acting Phaerakh and while one could rule by command protocols alone, if she wanted to avoid having to constantly look over her shoulder for the next millenium or so it would be necessary to impress the minor lords.

She’d also need to deal with Klotophis, of course.

Warp-infused bolts and flaming promethium streams lanced into the Necron ranks.  Many fell, but the Canoptek Reanimator following behind the lines played its Nanoscarab Reanimation Beams over the fallen Lychguard, raising them to fight once more.

They cut down the first line of Rubric marines.  Farreskh felt a twinge of disappointment that only dust blew out of the collapsing armour.  No blood.

The fire pouring in at them increased, and Lychguard began to fall faster than they could be rebuilt.  It seemed as though the greater firepower of the Thousand Sons force was being targeted towards her specifically.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Barrakhad heading towards her to render assistance, but a dark shadow fell across him and in a flash of leathery wings a great daemonic creature descended from the skies and fell atop him.  The two monstrous beings grappled and slashed at one another, but the Daemon Prince had the advantage of surprise and seemed to be gaining the upper hand, its great flaming sword biting deep into the Skorpekh Lord’s ribcage.

Farreskh’s attention snapped back to her own predicament and realised that she now stood alone – the last of her Lychguard fallen to the ground and phasing away, too badly damaged for self-repair.  Another wave of Rubric Marines rushed her.  Her voidscythe cut easily through their ceramite and spilt the dust inside, but she was greatly outnumbered.  Combat knives and Force weapons slashed at her, scoring her necrodermis and seeking out the more vulnerable systems beneath.

Barrakhad was down, one of his tripodal legs cut away. The Daemon Prince stood over him, preparing to deliver one last devastating strike.  Farreskh would not see her husband humbled so.  She signalled to the Reanimator.

The towering Canoptek broke into an ungainly sprint and smashed into the ascended Chaos Lord from behind, knocking it off balance.  Barrakhad lashed out with his Harvester blade, drawing a thin line of dark ichor across the daemon’s chest.  It was a mere flesh wound to such a creature, but its blood was in the air now and Farreskh was not the only one attuned to such things.

Out of the shadows they came, the Flayed Ones, their spindly limbs and long blades clacking.  They leaped upon the dark prince in a frenzy and even the great beast could not withstand the ferocity of their slicing claws.  It collapsed, leaving the Flayed Ones to carve what tatters of flesh they could from its back and wings before it faded away back into the Warp.

Barrakhad began to clamber back to his feet, but the distraction had cost Farreskh dearly.  The butt of a bolter dented her faceplate.  A force blade dug deeply and a sorcerous bolt from afar struck her, knocking her to the ground.

Warp lightning crawled across her body, digging its forked tongue into her reactor core.  Warning cartouches filled her vision as it began to overheat.

Another shadow fell across her and for a moment she feared the intervention of another great Daemon.  The creatures she beheld were not daemons however, but Wraiths. They phased back into existence among the marines that stood above her and hacked the haunted armour into pieces.

Kajakh, their shepherd, touched down and offered his hand.

Farreskh ignored it and got to her feet on her own.  “I thank you for your assistance, Technomancer.”

“My Phaerakh.  Channel Hamtat Seh.”

Confused, she tuned to the specified communications channel.  It was active, with an outgoing message feeding into the Thousand Son’s vox network.  A string of numbers.

No, coordinates.  Her coordinates.

She sighed.  “Klotophis.”  The treachery was no surprise, of course, but she’d come to expect more subtlety.

Najakh nodded.  “Yes, Your Majesty.  He hoped the Thousand Sons would incapacitate you long enough to let him enter the labyrinth and acquire the device for himself.”

“You betray him, now?  Why?”

Najakh performed mock affrontery.  “I betray nobody, Your Majesty.  You are our Phaerakh, my loyalty is firstly and only to you.”

Farreskh doubted this.  She suspected that the more likely motivation was that with Klotophis out of the way, leadership of the Black Council would fall to Najakh.  But, she decided not to look a gift Cryptek in the mouth, on this occasion.

She scanned the battlefield.  The Thousand Sons were in tatters and in the process of quitting the field.  She spied Klotophis a short distance away, in amongst a group of Warriors that were finishing off a few of the stragglers.

She strode off in his direction.  Picking up pace as her body reassembled itself and motive servos re-knitted.  “Klotophis!  KLOTOPHIS!”

The Chronomancer turned towards her as she approached.  “Your Majesty!” he said, with a warmth that was almost convincing.  “May I congratulate you on what appears will be a great victory.  Do I take it there is a subject you wish to discuss with me?”

“There is, indeed.  Your betrayal.”

“My betrayal?”  He smiled.  “Why, Your Majesty… I’m afraid you’ll have to be rather more specific than that.”

There was a sudden flash, and Klotophis vanished.

+Nachmund Gauntlet Strike Force Crusade Battle+

Mission: Strategic Strike

Forces: Necrons (Awakened Dynasty) vs Thousand Sons

Result: 13:4 to the Necrons

***

The chronomantic relay activated. In a burst of dirt and a tangle of metallic tentacles, Klotophis exploded out of the loose soil at the bottom of the excavation pit.

“Lead on, My Phaerakh.”

It was his own voice, coming from above.  Poking his head up above the rim of the pit, he beheld his own back and that of Farreskh, as they walked away towards the battle yet to be fought.

He should have about an hour’s head start.  It was a shame it was not longer, but it would have to be enough.  Calling forth the Warriors and Scarabs that he had set aside for this expedition, he turned to the tunnel mouth and began his descent into the darkness of the ancient labyrinth.