Chapter XVIII
Sweetie Belle and Oraban both arrived at Alaitoc as fast as their legs could carry them through the webway. Sweetie Belle did not need to be told that for the Farseers to call the craftworld’s rangers meant that something most serious had happened.
They were quickly called and made their way to the Hall of Atherakhia, where Elahina greeted them. “We’ve received a most desperate message,” she explained. “An exodite world, Ursidhe-ka, has come under attack from a massive ork force. Biel-Tan has been unable to answer them, and now they call upon us and the Starstriders.”
“We’re mobilizing?” Oraban asked.
“Yes, but we’ll need someone to go ahead.”
“Us?” The ranger questioned.
“Correct. You know Mesira, who has been living with the Ursidhe for some time. She will be able to get you the information we need, and Sweetie Belle will be able to relay it to us.”
“Me?” Sweetie asked, sounding somewhat concerned about the prospect.
“The forces of Chaos have been moving in that sector of the galaxy,” the Farseer explained as she led them outside. “We need a secure psychic line, lest their sorcerers discover us. Your odd existence in the warp makes the messages you send harder to find.”
Sweetie bit her lip. “That’s a long way.”
“We have tested your abilities,” Elahina said. “We know you can at least make that distance.”
Sweetie Belle sighed, but said nothing.
“The nearest webway gate is two weeks away, so we have a Shadow Class Cruiser waiting for you.”
“A whole cruiser?” Oraban asked.
“We’ll be dropping some Falcon and Wave Serpent Grav tanks for immediate support,” Elahina explained as they made to a massive hangar. Stepping onto a catwalk, they began walking down the length of a gigantic ship, whose towering solar sails shimmed in the light.
“We have no time to waste, you must leave immediately.”
They both nodded. “Understood,” Oraban said.
“May Isha’s light guide you,” she told them.
---=][=---
The Kaleidoscope Shield, one of the great, Space-born Webway gates, invisible against the blackness of the Void, winked open, letting the Shadow Class Cruiser launch forward into the darkness at incredible speed.
While the trip from Alaitoc to the Kaleidoscope Shield was practically negligible, it would still take a little over a year to arrive at Ursidhe-ka, even at their incredible, near-light speed.
And about a week in, Oraban noticed his tiny companion was missing.
He searched through the massive ship, using his pan-spectral sight to locate her special brand of psychic emptiness through the wraithbone walls of the ship.
Eventually, he found her, hiding in a closet, holding her stomach, and looking a touch green around the gills.
“Sweetie Belle, are you well?”
“No,” she groaned, while Button cooed and rubbed her head, trying to sooth her.
“What’s wrong?”
“I hate space travel.”
Oraban blinked.
“Give me the Webway any day of the week. I just…” she paused, putting her hoof to her mouth to keep herself from losing her lunch. “I just really, really hate space travel.”
Oraban shook his head. “Peace be with you, Sweetie Belle.”
She managed a small squeak of thanks, before she had to keep herself from vomiting again.
---=][=---
The Shadow Class Cruiser streaked through the sky, skipping against Ursidhe-ka’s atmosphere and pulling around to allow her dropships, Vampire Raiders, to fall towards the surface. The Vampire Raiders screamed downward, falling at incredible speeds that would frighten even the most experienced Imperial Mariner. It was only their anti-grav generators that kept the wraithbone ships from smashing into ground below.
The Vampire Raider that held Oraban and Sweetie Belle was the only ship that actually landed, the others dropping the anti-grav tanks from several meters from the ground, letting them fall to the ground, all but weightlessly.
Oraban and Sweetie Belle, meanwhile, walked off the large ramp that dropped from the aft of the Raider. As soon as they were off, though, the ship rocketed off, eager to leave the atmosphere so as to keep out of sight for as long as possible.
Sweetie Belle then went face-first to the ground and smiled. “Dirt! Oh dirt! It’s not even mud! Just dirt! It’s so beautiful.”
Button chirped.
Oraban smiled, before he began looking around. They stood in a large clearing, surrounded by trees with a massive dirt patch between them. A primitive landing zone, if he had to guess. Of course, the total lack of any figure besides himself, Sweetie Belle and the tanks was beginning to make him nervous.“The Ursidhe should be here…” he muttered.
“We are,” came the reply, before an Eldar materialized from the underbrush.
Sweetie Belle shot up, suddenly very aware that she had been face down in the dirt, and that was not the best first impression to make.
Eldar began climbing over the tanks, getting inside and almost immediately getting it to operate.
“That was fast,” Sweetie noted to the Ranger.
“They know what they’re doing. The simpler life is their choice, not their limitation.” The ranger answered, as he walked up to the Eldar who spoke. “I am Oraban of Alaitoc, Starstrider.”
“Greetings, Starstrider,” he replied, before taking a side-long look as Sweetie Belle. “Is this creature with you?”
Sweetie Belle sighed.
“She is,” he replied.
The Eldar nodded. “And what is your name, then?” he asked, turning to her.
Sweetie blinked. “I...I’m Sweetie Belle.”
“A pleasure, Sweetie Belle,” he said. “Follow me, we shall bring you to the Prince. He will give you the information you seek.”
Oraban nodded, and he and Sweetie Belle began following him into the underbrush.
“O-Oraban?” Sweetie said.
“Yes?”
“He...talked to me. Without belittling my intelligence.”
Oraban smiled. “He did.”
“A-Are you sure there’s nothing wrong with them?”
Oraban shook his head, and tried to keep himself from laughing.
---=][=---
Once the Vampire Raiders re-boarded the Shadow Class Cruiser, it took off, back into the depth of space. It’s minimal crew would not be of much use for those on the planet, and hugging its atmosphere would draw unwanted attention.
What the crew of the Cruiser did not know, however, was that as it left to join the rest of the fleet, some two-to-three months behind them, that two other ships would enter Ursidhe-ka’s atmosphere. One as black as the void, and one painted pink with a massive, golden, winged claw on its side.
Thunderhawks, decorated with the eight-pointed star of Chaos and the treacherous emblems of the Alpha Legion and the Emperor’s children glided down to the surface, as quiet and hopefully unnoticed as possible.
And Captain Goulraz Kraagan smiled as he watched it all from the bridge of The Hydra’s Tooth.
A cultist, a thin, emaciated man twisted by the foul powers of Chaos crawled towards him, prostrate before the man-turned-god. “My Lord…”
“Speak, worm,” the Captain ordered.
“Lord Sorcerer Festerus wishes to speak with you.”
The captain scowled behind his helmet. “I told him to stop wasting manpower,” he growled before his eyes fell on the shivering cultist, “and I told you to stop letting him.”
“Yes, M’lord, but he threatened to—”
The thunder of a bolt pistol liquifying the man’s brain echoed on the bridge.
“He may threaten, but I will bite,” he growled, before storming off.
The blackness of the ship was almost inviting to the Legionnaire Captain. That darkness, along with the bleeding runes that covered the walls and the vile smell that would drive any sane man to madness, was the closest a man could get to the Warp while still inhabiting real-space.
He walked the maddening halls, descending into the belly of the beast, before he strode into a large room filled with books.
Tome upon tome of ancient, forbidden knowledge piled high in the room, while the armored sorcerer stood in the center, surrounded by the still-gurgling corpse of his latest sacrifice and the blood circle at his feet.
Festerus intoned under his breath, chanting a low, ritualistic language that twisted the air into noxious fumes that burned like some foul incense.
Captain Kraagan growled at the sight of the corpse. “I told you to stop killing our cultists!”
“Yet you can kill without consequence?” He asked, before continuing his chant.
“That man disobeyed my orders. It’s my policy to make sure that disobeying my orders is not made into a habit by whatever means necessary. And I should not need to remind you that you are included in that policy.”
The Sorcerer did not stop his chanting, but he did turn to face the captain.
There was a long second of silence, and then the Captain laughed. “You’ll have to do better than that, Festerus. I have stared Magnus the Red in the face, and you are not even a fraction of his power. Finish your ritual and then report to the planet’s surface,” he said, turning to leave. “And that is an order, Festerus.”
---=][=---
He was the Prince of Ursidhe-ka, the last son of the king. While most Eldar, on their craftworlds, feared the very idea of intimacy, the hard life of the Exodites had tempered them. They were, in many ways, the last living remnant of the Eldar who were not slowly dying in the void.
The Prince was young, only fourteen thousand years in age, but the mantle of ruler had passed to him with his father’s death, and he had taken it upon himself. Kneeling before the altar of the World Spirit, with the spirit stones of the now-dead carde in hand. He prayed, silently to the World Spirit, the collective psychic energy of those who died and came before him.
“World Spirit, I beg you, take these souls into your embrace. Keep them close, and hold them forever.”
And then he raised the first stone, and smashed it upon the altar.
The first soul was released, into the World Spirit, and safe from She-Who-Thirsts.
He was being watched, he knew. The Ranger from Alaitoc and the strange creature were watching him from a respectable distance, led here by Moronyth.
He smashed another spirit stone on the altar.
It took him a while before he worked through almost of all of the Spirit Stones, and he finally stopped to face his guests. “Forgive me,” he said, before walking up to them. “I thank you answering our summons, Starstrider and…” he said, motioning to the unicorn.
“Oh! Uh...Sweetie Belle is fine,” she answered, still incredibly shocked that was was being addressed without having to hear a puppy-dog voice.
Button chirped, introducing himself.
“Sweetie Belle, thank you,” he said. “The others are coming?” He asked, hopeful.
“Yes, sir. A force is coming, we are here to gain as much information as possible. Sweetie Belle is, well, unique, and should keep the information we relay to be kept away from prying eyes.”
The Prince nodded. “Good. Forgive me if I seem nervous about your support. When the Swordwind did not answer, I will not lie and say I did not feel betrayed. To be promised their aid and receive none is not something I wished to feel.
“But my feelings are not a part of your mission. Come, join me,” he said, motioning them over to a small door. They followed, letting the Prince lead them into this tree’s throne room. “It started a little over a cycle ago, my father, the King brought his most trusted lieutenants together for a council.
“Our Wayseer had foreseen the incursion of the orks, but she did not foresee the attack. A single strike, almost surgical, ambushed the council. They were being led by a strange, winged creature I am told, and it killed all of them. We have just began to regroup and reorganize, but the Wayseers do not know how to proceed. There is no time for us.”
“How did you manage to get ambushed by orks?” Oraban asked.
“I know not, but they had managed to sneak past the ranger.”
“Wait. The ranger?” Oraban asked.
The prince nodded, before he turned, and held out his hand. “Mesira was killed. I am sorry.”
Oraban blinked, before reaching for the Prince’s hand, and a spirit stone fell into his hand.
Oraban stared at the stone for a long second. “I…” He began, before his hand slowly closed around it. “Th-thank you. I’ll make sure she is returned to Alaitoc’s infinity circuit.”
There was a long second before Oraban spoke again. “Sweetie Belle, accompany the Prince. Listen and aid him. Then send the message to Farseer Elahina. I’ll...I’ll be back.”
“Oraban?” She called.
But the Ranger did not answer her.
He simply left.
---=][=---
Captain Kraagan finally landed on Ursidhe-ka. His thunderhawk growled with a deep, throaty roar that echoed through the clearing where the forces of Chaos were gathering.
It was a bit of a relief to be off the vessel and away from that fool of a sorcerer. His pride and his lust for power would be his downfall.
Of course, while the Chaos Psyker was still completing his rituals, it seemed he had other problems to deal with.
“There you are!” cried Vulek the Debaucher. “You have had me wait for far too long!”
Perhaps the Sorcerer was the better option.
“This slight will not go unpunished, worm,” Vulek continued, head tentacle undulating angrily. “I am a Captain of the Emperor’s Children, serving lord Fulgrim for the last one thousand years. I am not someone to be trifled with.”
Kraagan barely registered the words, choosing instead to focus on the reports from his scouts rather listen to this fool.
“Pay attention, worm!” Vulek roared, before his tentacle whipped around.
Kraagan grabbed it, snatching the tentacle from the air.
Vulek blinked, before trying to pull away, only to find himself caught.
“Call me worm once more, you pathetic weakling,” Kraagan warned, before snapping the tentacle back into the other Captain’s head.
“H-How dare you! I-I—”
Kraagan spun, and grabbed Vulek by the neck, faster than anything the tentacled man had ever seen. “You need to learn your place, boy,” Kraagan hissed as he then lifted the other marine from the ground. “You claim a thousand years of service, but I was there. I was there ten thousand years ago.”
Vulek’s eyes slowly began to widen.
“I was there when Grandmaster Horus led our Primarchs against the corpse emperor in the most glorious battle of our kind. I worked my way to captain through millennia of work. I saw and fought under Alpharius Omegon. I saw Magnus the Red walk amongst mere mortals. I saw Fulgrim lead the massacre on Istvaan V. I was on the ship that Roboute Guilliman attacked with his Ultramarines, and I watched him attack and kill what he thought was Alpharius.
“You were chosen by a captain. I was hand picked by Omegon himself. You are nothing like me, boy. And it would do you well to remember that,” and with that, Kraagan dropped him unceremoniously to the ground.
Vulek stared up at Kraagan, eyes wide, before standing. “Y-you...I am a captain! I will be treated with respect!”
“If you want respect, then I am afraid you aren’t going to find it here.” Kraagan scoffed. “Just fight the Eldar. That is your only job. We are after something else.”
“What?” Vulek asked, vehemently.
“That is our business. You keep to yours.”
---=][=---
Sweetie Belle walked the long, wooden corridors of the Prince’s palace. She had sent the message concerning the ork’s movements, including their odd and sudden retreat as well as their surprise attack. The best part of the whole situation was that she had only gotten a mild headache from the entire thing.
It was quite the achievement, considering it was her first long-distance psychic message.
Now, though, her thoughts turned to the Ranger. Oraban had not returned from wherever he had gone, and it did not seem like he planned to for a while yet.
“Oraban? Oraban! Where are you?” She called, traveling through the palace.
She quickly came up, and around a corner, and met two Eldar warriors. “Excuse me, gentlemen, have you seen the newly arrived Starstrider?”
“No, I have not,” the left one repled.
“Neither have I,” the right one said.
The unicorn sighed. “Thank you, Gentlemen,” she said, before continuing on her way.
She had checked the whole palace now, and hadn’t seen hair nor hide of the Ranger. If she was perfectly honest it was beginning to annoy her.
Growling to herself, she then headed straight to the most secluded space she could find.
It seemed that she was going to have to do this the hard way.
Finding the most isolated room she could, she closed the door and laid down. Humming, her wraithbone extension began to grow, covering the majority of the room in large psycho-plastic struts. It would not need to be as big as her transmission pattern, but a little amplification would never hurt.
Once she was satisfied, she closed her eyes, and opened her mind.
Psychic radar was her way of putting it. The correct term was some Eldar word that roughly translated to “Vision of the Pan-Spectral,” and was the basic premise on which a ranger’s long rifle scope was built on. Opening her mind to view the world around her, she was able to see the psychic signatures around her.
The palace itself was a glowing beacon of psychic energy, pulsating with the energies of the hundreds of Eldar living inside.
She ignored them, searching for something else, something more specific. Each of the signatures around her were similar, while each being unique in their own way. Oraban was so unlike them that she could tell within a few seconds of looking that he wasn’t there.
Frowning, she increased the field, searching the forests around them.
Ah! There he was. In the forest, surrounded by a feeling of tempered sadness.
Sweetie frowned.
Still mourning, it seemed.
Well, at least she knew where he was now, she can get back to—
What is that?
There was something...strange just on the edge of her vision, some three days away, if she had to guess.
It was...almost...familiar…
She forced herself a bit, pushing her power slightly more to get a better look.
It was in the ork camp.
It...it was a void.
A-not-quite absence of psychic energy. Something there, and yet, not there.
This was…
She reached out to it, almost automatically, her curiosity driving her forward.
If she was right…
---=][=---
“A questioning servant is more dangerous than an ignorant heretic”—Imperial Thought of the Day
Well, well, well. What do we have here?
“Wait a second...what are you doing, Miner?”
What I do every time, Pinkie. Try to take over the world!
“Ha ha. But really?”
You’ll have to wait and see.
Next time! Back to the Imperium! And the journey of Apple Bloom!
“We’ll see you then!”
Bye!
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Ooooo sweetie and scootaloo reunion I hope it is happy and not death filled. I hope they don't kill each other
Eldar that are nice? Maybe living a more mundane existence tempers your 'superiority complex'. Can't wait to see how the reunion goes. I know Sweetie Belle is going to try for peace, but Scootaloo? We'll see what happens.
Hehehe....good old Chaos at work here....
7018222 one is an Ork, the other is apprenticed to an Eldar Ranger who just lost someone very important to him to Orks.
Blood filled will be the least descriptive way you could explain this coming reunion.
7019037
Lost to Scootaloo nonetheless.
And then the Blood Ravens, following the trail of the Alpha Legion, drop down to the planets surface on wings of fire, to annihilate both xenos and heretic alike.
The Convergence is at hand! ... That sounds a little more ominous than I intended, but considering that it is the CMC, well, it might be warranted. Looking forward to more.
Keep up the good work. Deus tecum.
7019257 Does Scootaloo drop spores by any chance? Also is her Orky nature inheritable?
7022073
No idea.
Welp. There goesmy original headcanon of them meeting on the battlefield and just go
"Scootaloo?"
"Sweetie Belle?"
... They start to have a casual chat while occasionally killing each others teammates.
It's a party on Ursidhe-ka and everyone is invited.
Sweetie and/or Scootaloo, I bet