//------------------------------//
// Northern Wastes 
// Story: PonyHammer 40,000: Magic of War | SpiritStorm 
// by Dragon Heart 
//------------------------------//

	More than any other race, the Eldeer concern themselves with the distant past and the distant future. In visions, Farseer Gitane anticipated the awakening of their ancient foes, the Necronies, on Pandora III. A Webway gate, unused for many millennia, flickered to life. In the blink of an eye, a barren tract of the wasteland planet became a sprawling base of operations, and the Eldeer army poured forth from it.

Just as quickly, this stronghold vanished from the naked eye, concealed by Eldeer artifice. The Eldeer had learned long ago that no bulwark, no matter how strong, could halt the slow, implacable progress of the Necronies. Only illusions, deceit, and misdirection could accomplish that goal - and these are things at which the Eldeer are peerless.

The Eldeer had prepared a harrowing gauntlet for their invaders, with all the feints and deception they could muster. This stronghold was not just a hoofhold, not just a key strategic point, not just home to many Eldeer secrets. No, through its long history, it had become sacred to the Woodworld Eldeer, and they would defend it accordingly.


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In the Northern Wastes, Eldeer hover tanks and aircraft moved about the sandy terrain. Farseer Gitane stood before three Warlocks, making sure everything was running smoothly.

"They approach." She said, "We are prepared?"

"Yes, Farseer, but-" one of the Warlocks said hesitantly.

"Yes?" She asked.

"Must we fight?"

"We shall fight." Gitane answered. "They must never suspect. They shall come, expecting the obvious, the simple, the artless. They shall stab at the shadows with confused minds and troubled hearts. Meanwhile, we shall appear unseen from ten directions, and from every one strike a fatal blow."

Two of the Warlocks pranced off, while Gitane and the other Warlock boarded one of the transport vehicles. It hovered away to a different location in the wasteland and dropped off the Farseer and Warlock. They walked up near the cliff edge that overlooked their base.

"Do you know the history of this place," Gitane asked as she turned to the Warlock, "which we call Sacre Royaume and the young races call the Northern Wastes?"

"We the Eldeer made our war camp here," said the Warlock, "in a past age?"

"Yes, that is so." said Gitane. "Our ancestors came here to fight the Necronies when they were an overwhelming wave that swept the worlds. This system was one of their stages of destruction, their foundries of undeath. Our ancestors defeated them here."

She returned her gaze to the stronghold. "We constructed our war operation center here as an illusion. No brute army, no simple display of force could uncover its secrets, and none ever shall."

Eldeer troops moved about the base below, Eldeer vehicles hovered to positions, and even Treelords stepped out of the Support Portals and into the battlefield.

"No, it is more than an illusion." Gitane rephrased. "It is a clever trap, this place our ancestors forged. It is a net covered in leaves that the savage beast willingly stands on, tempted by a bloody morsel, only to find itself hoisted, trapped, at the hunter's mercy."

The Farseer sighed. "No, we shall guard our secret. No force can strike a target it cannot find. We shall not yield up our hoofhold on this world. Pandora was once ours, and shall be ours again."