The Iron Warriors made good progress, having secured almost the entire battlefield. Their Lord, Daemon Prince Baltak Meandor, Exalted of Malus Secundus, Holder of the Blissgiver, Scion of the Adeptus Sororitas,
was single-handedly killing the army of those foolish enough to stand against them. The hate-filled fury, the raw hate, the bloody destruction visited upon these ancient enemies, it would have routed any lesser army.
But not these Eldar. Despite killing a gathering of Dire Avengers, a Farseer and Guardians riding jetbikes, the Warriors from Olympia were still taking heavy casualties. Rangers and Pathfinders, hidden in the ruins of the
battlefield, were picking them off methodically. But worse still was the trio of Fire Prism anti-grav vehicles. Staying well out of range of Astartes' heavy guns, they poured bright stars of death into their midst and were
holding a flank entirely on their own.
The battle was reaching a critical point. Were the Eldar able to keep their flank before dusk, then they would succeed in holding of the Chaos Space Marines, despite the heavy toll in blood. The Iron Warriors needed to
put pressure on that flank, but without mobile infantry and their anti-tank capabilities out of range, they needed a more desperate approach.
He came back to his consciousness with a jolt, stirring the rubble around him, sending up a small cloud of dust. Erban Sotarr looked around him, saw the bodies of his comrades, and suddenly remembered what had happened.
His own squad, together with those grey hounds of Brokar's squad, had come under fire from the Eldar vehicles while crossing the ruined buildings to reach the possible location of their snipers. He remembered the feeling of
surprise and of awe, at seeing his brothers in arms being brought low by the small suns exploding around them. Then, the tidal wave of light coming at him, and then darkness.
The pilot flame on his weapon was still burning, a small blue knife of fire stabbing in the dark confines. Sotarr felt hate fill him up. He turned over, pushed himself up, and reached for his weapon. The fuel tank still full,
Sotarr swore to burn as many Eldar as he could. They were going to regret not finishing the job. Trying to get a sense of direction, he cautiously moved through the ruins, turning the nozzle of his flamer on every dark corner.
He stopped at the last wall, and spotted a few of the rangers, holed up on the first level of a derelict Mechanicum building. On their left, the grav tanks were still rotating through positions and taking shots at his battle brothers.
Sotarr took a few steps back, and braced his feet against the concrete floor. Then he sprang forward. Bursting through the last wall, the sudden movement and sound of a man breaking through stone made all of the rangers
turn their head. Some even started firing, but they were too slow and were unable to bring their sniper rifles to bear in such a short time. The closest Eldar saw the flame begin to blossom, and tried to turn away.
It was no use. The burning chemical, rapidly spreading, engulfed the entire upper floor. Clothes and equipment burst into flames. In their panic, the Eldar tried to get away from the heat, only to fall to their deaths through holes
in the floor.
Not pausing to see the effect of his attack, the Iron Warrior ran onwards, towards the Fire Prisms. With no cover to hide behind, he moved as fast as he could, and readied a krak grenade. With only a few meters left towards
the closest grav tank, Sotarr started his roll, hit the ground just under the tank’s hull, and threw the grenade dead-center under the vehicle’s grav engine.
The sharp flame cut right through the heart of the machine. It lost its height almost immediately, and started to gouge grooves in the ground while the pilot tried to control the vehicle. It was futile. Sotarr had already prepared
another grenade, and was now circling his wounded prey. Having correctly anticipated the right moment, he lobbed the grenade perfectly on the right engine intake, turned sharply, and dived for the ground.
The explosion cut the Fire Prism in two. It fell hard, and secondary explosions under the turret slew the giant crystal around, and it fired one last time, punching a smoking hole in the ground.
“How does my hate feel, frail being!?”, Sotarr screamed. He readied another grenade, but stopped half way through. The other vehicles were backing of.
The Eldar were leaving the battlefield.
Based on a 1500 points battle between Chaos Space Marines and Eldar. On one flank, I had two units of Chaos Space Marines advance on a unit of ten Pathfinders and three Fire Prisms.
In the end, one Chaos Space Marine with a flamer survived the run towards them, and boy did he take revenge. He toasted enough Pathfinders to force a Morale check which they failed and ran off the table.
He then proceeded to assault a Fire Prism and managed to destroy one (krak grenades are awesome). The Fire Prisms didn’t fire on him because the Eldar player tried to remove Raptors from an objective (we had
the mission in which Fast Attack choices can also claim objectives). They had gone to ground behind ruins and managed to hold out long enough.
But the actions of the lone Marine deserved a fitting story :-)