The Wrath of the Forge

The Hall of Relics

"Fear the Iron Fist, for it's grip is death."

The Skitarii in charge of reclaiming the sacred Hall of Relics were highly trained and heavily equipped, but they were going in blind. The many vox-channels that connected the tectonic-plate sized manufactorums had been knocked out, suggesting the Eldar were using some sort of frequency scrambler. Led by War-Priest and Skitarii Secutor Magos Atasca, the Skitarri were being deployed to the outskirts of the Manufactorum, where the hall of relics was located. The Eldar had taken the Hab centre now, and were currently focusing on dealing with the many smaller manufactoring facilities and genoratorums before attacking the main spire. The Hall of Relics however was far more valuable. Containing technology and secrets from a bi-gone golden age, it was a sanctuary of perfect code. It was indeed well defended, but it was also vulnerable. Built in one of the footprints of the Emperor Titan, it was at the outskirts of the Manufactorum and probably underseige from attacking xenos.

Atasca wouldn't let it stand. His reclamation convoy was already less than a kilometre away, having taken a few hours to prepare and arrive. Twenty troop transports, modified astra militarum Chimeras were the main bulk, flanked by Bi-pedal Skitarii Ironstrider Engines mouted with lascannons and other devastating weaponry. Spearheading the mass of armour was a relic itself; a Baneblade. This 400 tonne behemoth had seen more wars than maybe the whole planet had, and was more than ready to join the fray again. With 18 barrels ready to unleash hell and a hide as thick as a starship, it was a grand contraption. Atasca sat at the very top, peering out of the observation hatch on top of the turret, a heavy stubber dangling by his side.

Draped in battle plate, he looked abit more like a Space Marine than a Tech-Priest. Apart from slightly smaller shoulder pads and the clumsy servo-arms pretruding from his back, he could have been. But his Skitarii were up to the job of claiming back these relics from the xenos in the name of the Omnissiah.

Down the elevated streets of the manufactorum came the armoured convoy. It was silent, apart from the blasting of engines. No one could be seen, no servitors no worker, no xenos or threats. Nothing.

"Where is everyone?" Said Atasca in the vox, data teathered to his skitarii corhort.

"Reply: all workers have evacuated and all servitors have gone to help the war effort." Came a response from one of the princeps.

"Might they help us?" Asked Atasca.

"Uncertain." Came the same voice. "They are brainless. Depending on they're variying neurocircuitry, they may see us as threats."

"I see."
"Suggestion: it may be wise to avoid all conflict, as the mission at hand seems to valuable to get sidetracked with killing attackers."

"Denied." Protested Atasca. "If we come into contact we must engage, it is our duty as defenders of Katoss. Besides.." Atasca slapped the side of the tank with a clang. "When those xenos filthbreeds see what we have install for them, they will have to go crawling back there generically correct female carers." He chuckled.

"That was a pathetic attempt at humour, Secutor." Came the voice of the Alpha of the Ironstrider Cavaliers. "Next time shorten the time between punchline and natural phrase, and keep the punch short and sutle."

"Protest:" Said the princeps. "Certain humours scenarios and 'jokes' can have long lines of humourous value-"

"Enough." Said Atasca. "We are approching our destination I want complete focus on the task at hand, not the simplification and working actions of humour."

"Yes Magos." Said both the Princeps and Alpha Ironstrider in unison.

As the convoy pressed onwards, the stubby rectangular building came into view. Covered in cog decor and other technical parts, the main feature were the two huge fires burning away from the roof. More as a symbol the machine god's vast light and knowledge. It was humbling to know that the Machine God was looking on them now, that he guided the shots of the Skitarii come the eve of battle.

~~~~~~~~~

Archmagos Lupa and Inquisitor Artemis had returned to the Iron Place of the machine god, in the overviewing station. It was a cluttered mess of monitors, gothic architecture and cabaling. The high ceilings were lit with chandeliers and in the center was a large hololithic display, projecting a three-dimensional image of Katos into the air above. Several Magi and servitors were hustled into the confined spaces, busy completing tasks and and surveying the battlefield, sending crucial data to where it was needed most.

"Archmagos." Said a bulky Tech-Priest when Lupa and the Inquisitor entered. "The Eldar have taken complete control over the hab-centre. They are now moving onto targets Manufactorum Manus and Forge-Temple Lybia."

Lupa moaned accidentally with concern.

"What units do we have on the ground?" He asked.

"The Katos 2nd Macrolade Skitarii are moving in to help secure Lybia, along with the 23rd Katos Tank Battalion. Archmagos, if I might have permission too speak freely?"

"Granted." Said Lupa sternly, displeased with the news he was hearing and not like the Inquisitor snooping around his planet like some carrion bird.

"I doubt we can survive this. The Eldar have never launched an attack this big, and they have claimed fifty square miles in several hours-"

"They are not Eldar." Interrupted Artemis. Everyone in the room's heads turned.

"What do you mean 'not Eldar." Said Lupa with disgust.

"These, Archmagos." Started Artemis. "Are Dark Eldar. Too an untrained eye." She gestured to Lupa. "They are both indistinguishable from each other. But to the trained eye it is apparent. These xenos are not what you thought them to be and as a result my warriors will not be at full combat efficiency. Luckily for you.."

"Im sporry Ma'am." Said the Techpriest. "But I have all the confidence our Skitarii can handle this until we evacuate."

"My Deathwatch have been trained to deal with any xenos threat. So this should be easy. Whats that?" Asked Artemis, pointing to a large red dot appearing on the hololithic display.

"A second Dark Eldar strikeforce." Said Lupa slowly.

"Right near the Hall of Relics.." stated the Tech-priest.

"I am deploying my Ultramarines. I will not have those artifacts taken by xenos filth. Librarian Hallax, do you respond?"

"Yes my Lord." Came a voice over the vox, deep like an earthquake.

"I am sending you coordinates. Make sure you are there asap. Take one of the Thunderhawks."

"By his will." Came the reply as the feed cut off.

~~~~~~~

"Doors opening now." Stated Astasca, using his data teather to remotely open the large metal door, scorched with the cog mechanicus. Inside was darkness, no light shone outward.

"Magos! Eldar vehicles approaching! Jetbikes and transports!" Shouted a Skitarii.

"Emperor damn them." Cursed Atasca. "Very well. Get into defensive positions until the servitors finish here. Then we retreat, understood?"

"Yes Magos." Came a shouted reply from Skitarii and Ironstrider engines moving into position.

"Ave deus mechanicus." Muttered Atasca.