Rebirth (Original-Free Federation)

[Imperial Overlord]

Okay, I just had a wtf moment. I bet that really old vampire dude (I can simply not remember names here) is the one coming on in. I got to find new characters to root for, now that the status quo has been shot to hell.

Nalhen couldn't make that breach. Neither can Lamech.

[Raj Ahten]

Nazan couldn't make that breach. Neither can Lamech.

Are we talking about some sort of "third force" being responsible? (slavers perhaps?) I guess I'll just have to wait and find out...

[Imperial Overlord]

Nazan couldn't make that breach. Neither can Lamech.

Are we talking about some sort of "third force" being responsible? (slavers perhaps?) I guess I'll just have to wait and find out...

Nothing that hasn't been previously introduced.

[Imperial Overlord]

The Mosenti Plains
Sandresha
The Free Federation

Space was rent and an icy mist poured forth. The rift grew wider and taller, tearing and stretching. From it walked Nalhen in all his terrible glory. On either side of him were a hundred black masked, cloaked, and armoured sorcerers of the Thousand Curses. For a moment the task of holding the breach open fell to them. Frozen grass crunched under their boots.

Behind them were another hundred of the Thousand Curses in their rune marked witch masks. With the remainder of their strength, already sorely tried by forcing the breach in the first place, their held up a shield dome to protect the rift to the Between and the emerging soldiers.

Behind them stood another a hundred, grouped into five man teams. Beams and bolts of eye searing brightness stabbed up into the sky as they tore apart weapon platforms and battle satellites. Short lived stars flashed in the sky as defences failed and their targets were destroyed.

Behind them crawled four massive vehicles, little more than power plants connected to shields and energy sinks. Their purpose was to maintain the theatre shields that would prevent the ground force from destroyed by orbital strikes. Columns of fire erupted in the air as beam weapons struck home from orbit. Intolerable brightness and unbearable noise hammered the shields as kinetic kill weapons impacted. The shields held.

Another rank of a hundred sorcerers took up the task of holding the breach. Behind them came another four shield carriers and then eight vehicles that were carrying a battery of six large tubes. There was a moment for the rocket batteries' fire control computers to process the data they were receiving and then they fired. Magnetic launchers hurled their cargoes upwards at transonic speeds and then their engines kicked in. More brilliant blue beams and eyes searing white bolts were fired upwards.

Zarkos Elvindar wearing sinister bat winged flight harnesses and Lios Elvindar wearing vibrant and beautiful flight packs ascended into the air, high powered lance weapons gripped in gauntleted hands. Human and Kordassi piloted tanks and armoured vehicles poured from the rift and Dark Guard necromancers took on the job of holding it open. Clinging to the vehicles were power armoured infantry. Running alongside were the armoured hexapedal dragonforms of the Sithi. More and more came through.

Celene Nightfire, The Lord of Battle, stepped onto the trampled grass. Opening the breach against so much resistance was a feat far beyond even Nazan, but not beyond literally thousands of powerful sorcerers working in concert. She had spent almost all her strength on opening and then helping hold the breach as her seizures held her back from front line duty. Her braid twitched, the silver wire threaded through it gleaming in the shield light.

A blasted hell was in front of her, as they had expected. They had chosen not to exit directly into the city because the D-scrambler fields were weaker here and to prevent collateral damage. They were here to retake the Free Federation, not burn it to ash.

"Center group, advance on the city, neutralize opposition, and take the Senate. Minimal collateral damage. North group, engage the army legions that will come in to reinforce. South group, seize the planetary defence emplacements in the foothills of the mountain. Intact if possible. I will remain with the reserves. You know your jobs. Move!"

The sorcerers had spent much of their strength opening and then holding the breach, meaning that they would only have a fraction of their strength to use in battle until they had time to recover. She did not doubt it would be enough. She had far more than just sorcerers in her army.

[General Trelane (Retired)]

Excellent!

Intolerable brightness and unbearable noise hammered the shields as connect kill weapons impacted.

Did you mean kinetic kill weapons?

[White Haven]

Either that, or a battle-modem.

[LadyTevar]

Nazan couldn't make that breach. Neither can Lamech.

Are we talking about some sort of "third force" being responsible? (slavers perhaps?) I guess I'll just have to wait and find out...

Nothing that hasn't been previously introduced.

It's the HellBrood, isn't it. All of them had a gift for Sorcery, expanded lifespans, and several hundred years to spawn kids. A full thousand sorcerors, and they could all be one bloodline.

[Imperial Overlord]

Are we talking about some sort of "third force" being responsible? (slavers perhaps?) I guess I'll just have to wait and find out...

Nothing that hasn't been previously introduced.

It's the HellBrood, isn't it. All of them had a gift for Sorcery, expanded lifespans, and several hundred years to spawn kids. A full thousand sorcerors, and they could all be one bloodline.

Not in the first ranks. Those are the Thousand Curses of the Nagazar. The Hellbrood is present as are the Valkyrie, the Executioners, the Karsteins, most of Darkholds surviving necromancer lords, a large number of Zarkos and Lios Elvindar sorcerers, the Dragon Society, Nagazar Legions, and assorted warrior-sorcerers from various parts of the Grand Alliance including Internal Security and the Legions. Just about every non-Elvindar powerful sorcerer is present, which comes to around ten thousand sorcerer and vampire lords. That's how they have enough power to do the nearly impossible and force the breach.

[White Haven]

...bugger. That's...impressive.

[LadyTevar]

You keep having the White say the Black do not have the numbers, so yes, this kind of power is impressive for someone 'without the numbers'.

[Imperial Overlord]

You keep having the White say the Black do not have the numbers, so yes, this kind of power is impressive for someone 'without the numbers'.

The "numbers" referred to have never been sorcerers, but rather to population, ships, and industrial production capability. Almost all the powerful sorcerers and vampires were Black and the White have repressed and restricted sorcery for fear of another Darkhold. The Grand Alliance is using its superiority in this area in an unusual way.

[Imperial Overlord]

The Mosenti Plains
Sandresha
The Free Federation

Mr'k'ka K'rung sent a surge through his links. "Go," he told his driver. R'ken brought the engine up to full power and sent the massive Vanguard battle tank forward, skimming over the earth at ninety kilometers an hour with the rest of the tanks of the One Hundred Seventeenth Strike Legion. R'ken continued to smoothly accelerate until they hit one hundred twenty kilometers an hour.

Both Kordassi were encased in soft battle armour and almost cocooned into the operating cradles. They looked a lot like armoured toads someone had half buried in junk. Both of them were young adults by Kordassi standards, having hatched in the large ponds on the Terinar Platform and having received extensive education and training once they progressed beyond the tadpole stage and emerged from the pond. They had never seen a Slaver Lord outside of a history tape, never fought in a war before this one. Their instructors had seen live slavers and had pulled the trigger on the enemy and they had pushed their students to extremes to get the best possible performance out of them and imparted all the hard earned wisdom they possessed.

The One Hundred Seventeenth anchored the southern edge of Northern Group's advance and were potentially exposed to fire from Tehendrosh City as well as the army units up north. The city was Center's problem and hopefully the Praetorians and Directorate troops would soon have their hands full and not be trying to holes in K'rung's amphibious hind quarters. War being the bitch she was, K'rung wasn't placing much faith in that.

Missiles streaked by overhead on their way to the enemy positions. Restraint was the order of the day, for purely political and propaganda reasons. K'rung understood and on a certain level agreed with it, but he didn't like it. Blinding light, dialed down to bearable levels before fed to him by his tank's computers and sensor system, flared ahead.

Three mushroom clouds climbed into the sky. Zarana's bones, someone had been able to authorize tac nukes and the other sides missile defence had obviously not been up to snuff. A voice crackled over the overcommand channel.

"This is Trice." Which meant Overcommander Salida Trice of the the Fifth Legion of the Dark Guard, the World Wreckers, which formed the center of Northern Group. The Fifth Legion was also known as Incaradine's Fist and worshiped the Paingiver like he was a god. Even by Grand Alliance standards, the Fifth was known to be heavy handed. "The Lady gave us our nuke strike, we're not going to waste it. We got some of them, a lot of them will still be kicking. Hit them hard and hit them fast."

K'rung didn't need to be told twice. The Vanguard had been a new design, back just before the Resurgency. The technological plateau that had been reached mid way through the First Slaver War meant that the design was still capable. Vanguard's followed the lines of a typical Grand Alliance main battle tank, which was to say sloped adamantium armour and frame powered by a fusion reactor and utilizing a beam cannon as its main armament. A repulser system provided lift and was the core of the drive system. Smaller beam cannons were the secondary armament. Discounting the advanced computer systems, the tank had a crew of two. Variations of this design had been in use for almost an millenia for the simple reason that it worked very well.

Data came through K'rung's links. Large vehicles, likely tanks, were moving forward to engage the Grand Alliance forces. There were still hills in the way that made direct engagement impossible. Sensor traces showed missiles being launched from both sides. His fingers itched around the fire control toggles. If he survived this rain of fire, he would take his first shots on an actual field of battle. His throat was wet. If he survived.

----------------------------------------------

Most of the armour was heading north. The lion's share of the remainder was heading south, to secure the planetary defence complexes. Center Group didn't have much need of it as they were going to secure the city and the Senate. Tanks tended to fair poorly in city fighting and Center Group had plenty of mobile firepower.

Crossing the Mosenti Plains and reaching Tehendrosh did present a problem. It was a city, not a fortress, and this was a surprise attack but it still meant crossing twenty kilometers of mostly open ground and largely on foot. Incaradine raised his right hand. His battle gauntlet gleamed silver in the shield light, the orichalcum tracers connected the black power gems glowing like molten gold. He dropped his hand.

His troops boiled forward, human power armour infantry and Sithi heavy infantry. He ran with them, taking his place at their head. He had exhausted almost all of his power opening the breach and now he was going to spend what little he had left.

He joined with a dozen other sorcerers and formed a force wall ahead of their advance. It would hopefully eat up any enemy fire until they reached the city and were able to take cover. His sensor net registered the success of the nuke strike and that another D-scrambler had been taken out. Good. They still had more troops to bring through and it would be nice if the sorcerers holding open the rift had something left by the they let if close. It could make all the difference.

He threw back his head and laughed. If he had proposed a plan to send every sorcerer of power out on one mission, one that would exhaust almost all of them completely and leave them easy kills for the enemy, he would have been called reckless and it would have been dismissed out of hand. When Selene had proposed it, it had been received as being brilliant and audacious. He laughed again. Well, he was reckless. Along with blood thirsty and vengeful.

Overhead a flight of drones flew buy. Some of them were spies, others counter measures, and some hunter-killers tasked with directly attacking the enemy's electronic eyes. City fighting was hell. The Grand Alliance intended to lose no more people than it had to in this fight. At least we are fighting some place warm, he joked to himself.

He drew forth his adamantium bladed saber Plaguebringer with his right hand. Jade runes flared to life along the length of the blade. His left hand was not encased in a battle gauntlet. Instead it bore his wedding rings and the rings of power he had forged as a necromancer of Darkhold. Strips of cured slaver leather wrapped around his hand and the base of his fingers to holld a heart shaped amulet securely to his palm. With that hand, holding talismans of love and death, he drew forth his serrated toothed sword breaker Fleshripper. Blood red runes gleamed along its length. "For the honoured dead!" he shouted. "For the future!"

"The future!" his soldiers roared. At fifty kilometers an hour, they ran full tilt towards the city and victory.

[Imperial Overlord]

The Senate
Sandresha
The Free Federation

Rhodan gaped at the display in front of him. Such power, to hold open a rift for so long against so much opposition? Easier now that they had cleared the orbital space above them, but still. . . . He snapped out of it. Crack troops had come storming through the rift and one of the spear heads was aiming directly at him. Attempting to flee Between was impossible, which limited his options.

He signaled Battlecommander Serenday, Commander of the Praetorian Guard. "A Black attack force is heading for the city. You must defend the Senate at all costs."

"Understood. Your will be done."

"Take command of the police and Directorate troops. Take command of anything and everything you need. You must not fail."

"I will not." Serenday killed the line. Rhodan started to pace. What to do, what to do? Then it struck him.

The Black would have to have overwhelmingly committed itself to this attack. Almost every sorcerer of rank was here, forcing or holding the breach and exhausted from doing so. There powers would be at their lowest ebb and they could be killed. The entire sorcerer cadre of the Black, including their leaders, was here to be killed and they were vulnerable. If he could kill them, if only he could kill them, the Black would be ended. Forever.

He needed to find some way of tipping the balance. The Black had planned on dealing the the orbital assets and by the time enough fleet assets arrive everything would be over one way or another. That's undoubtedly why the Black was making a thrust towards the Kormaraq Defence Complex, to help them hold the planet after the battle was over.

He was keenly aware of the danger this attack presented. After all, Rhodan had worked for a long time to completely and totally centralize power in the Senate. Even the military had been splintered and rerouted to minimize the upper ranks' independence. How would the military act if the Black captured the Senate and had them surrender? Where would they turn for leadership? How would the planetary governments and the bureaucracy react? Would they honor the terms? What other body would resist and still be considered legitimate?

His blood ran cold. There was no other source of leadership, no other body. He had destroyed them utterly. And they had suckered him into making his move to destroy the last vestiges of democracy, poisoning the legitimacy of White loyalists. They had anticipated that move, counted on in fact.

He had to win. Here, now, he had to win. Maybe the White regime, his power, could survive a defeat but maybe not. He couldn't take the chance that it would all fall apart, that Zerakis and his heirs would thwart him again. He had to win.

The Mosenti Plains
Sandresha
The Free Federation

Legends about vampires and coffins to the contrary, Lamech hated confined spaces. The fighting cradle that wrapped around his armoured body was a claustrophobe's nightmare, barely allowing him to move his hands while surrounding him in data displays. It was, however, the best course of action. Necessity and the Laws of Iron were harsh masters.

Under normal circumstances he was more than willing to entrust his shield wards and his orichalcum embossed adamantium plate with his personal protection, but right now he had so little power to add to his shields or to spend flying that other methods of travel were better. So he lay in the belly of a Grand Alliance tank, linking his mind with that of two score other exhausted vampires so they could take collective action of consequence.

It was hard work only because he was so tired. He had been the lynch pin of the mind link when they had fought the Great Devourers more than twenty millenia ago. Most of his friends had fallen, and almost everyone there had been a friend, but he had not failed. At the end they had prevailed and they had saved the spiral arm, and perhaps the galaxy, from unimaginable horror. Only seven of them had returned to earth, carrying weapons of power given to them by the Kordassi. The rest of them, including their best, had perished at the Anvil.

The link was steady. He could touch the One Power, felt the blood stir in his veins. Vampires recovered from exhaustion faster than sorcerers, if there was blood available and plenty of blood had been packed. Their collective efforts were weak, but they would be strong enough. Power was molded to their collective will and the telepathic shockwave unleashed.

Several sorcerers acted to try and block the wave, but their efforts weren't enough. It was weakened, but not stopped. The wave didn't kill, but that wasn't its purpose. Ahead of them, among the ranks of White loyalists rushing to meet them, soldiers spasmed and writhed as a their brains received the psychic equivalent of a hammer blow. Some, better shielded than others, threw it off quickly and recovered in seconds. Most took longer, some of them a lot longer. The timing mattered. Every second, in fact, counted.

The psychic assault was timed to strike at the moment of contact between the two forces. While the leading edge of the White forces were incapacitated missiles, hyper velocity slugs, and high energy lasers erupted from the Grand Alliance force. On a front ten kilometers long vehicles were burned open or blown apart. The Grand Alliance tankers and the fire support crews behind them switched targets as fast as they could, taking advantage of momentary weakness to kill as many of the enemy as possible while they were almost helpless. They had gone into battle with a marginal advantage in numbers, but they quickly opened that gap by killing the White at a ferocious rate.

It wasn't a complete turkey shoot. Automatic defence systems clawed some of the missiles out of the sky while quick recovering soldiers began to fight back. The damage, however, had been done. The Grand Alliance had landed a heavy blow virtually unopposed and continued to follow up on their advantage while the White forces fell back to a series of hills to regroup. The Grand Alliance forces stayed in pursuit, killing the demoralized White forces and driving home their advantage. They were doing their part, but without victories by Center and South group their successes would mean nothing.

[Imperial Overlord]

Tehendrosh
Sandresha
The Free Federation

Swooping down like great raptors, the Elvindar wearing flier harnesses were the vanguard of Center Group. High powered lance weapons, many of the ancient relics, all of them sorcerously enhanced, were gripped in their hands. The drone swarms sent target data to their helmets and eye searing beams of brightness blasted the few enemy positions into ash and fragments.

A few tumbled out of the air, their shields overloaded by enemy strikes and their armour breached, but they were swiftly avenged by mass lance strikes. The Elvindar, both Lios and Zarkos, smashed through windows and stormed the buildings on the outskirts of the city, seizing them and clearing them out. Many of them took sniper positions on the other side, ready to burn down the enemy. Very few of the enemy appeared.

Protected by the shield wall, the Grand Alliance shock troops swept forward and took cover in the prizes secured by the Elvindar. Only a few attacks had been directed their way and the shield wall, although unimpressive, had held. Squads of human, Elvindar, and sithi troops darted ahead, seizing new positions and securing the line of advance.

Incaradine stalked through a mechanic's garage surrounded by his twelve bodyguards as men and women stopped and starred. The expert systems wired into his armour was processing an inhuman amount of data and relaying it the Lord of Darkhold. All around him their were reports of minimal resistance as Grand Alliance troops surged forward. Incaradine ordered three sithi heavy infantry companies to take point and reformed a column of human infantry to follow up behind them as support. The rest he left alone.

The Praetorians were mostly deployed around the Senate, but they were well equipped and would fight. Add in the Directorate and police troops in the city and their was a formidable defence force. The best explanation for why their wasn't much fighting as they didn't have time to deploy effectively to the outskirts of the city and had declined to lose a large section of their force by doing half measures. Data from drones supported this conclusion. It was easy enough now, but it was going to get rougher soon.

------------------------------------------------------

Varidan Reeze's kill team ran across the shopping mall in less than ten seconds. Teera Seen smashed an exit through the concrete with a single blow from her charged rune gauntlet and the Internal Security killers poured through. The drones said the parking lot and the space to the next buildings were clear, but they could be wrong. Running full speed with shields that could take a hit or two was the best option.

They blurred across the lot, leapt the street entirely and moved through the cluster of housing towers as a single well oiled machine. It had been so easy to slip back into the groove and the Witch Hunters had been more than happy to welcome a legendary member back into their ranks. It was like getting back on a bicycle.

A golden skinned woman with a long black braid wearing a shadowcloth trench coat was hiding ahead. She took a hand off her rifle to signal him to halt. He repeated it back to his team and then followed her directions to move off to the side. A tight beamed relay showed him Praetorians and police reaction teams setting up ahead. Not something his people could tackle without support. She waited a moment and then followed them over. "Nice to see you again Rumour," he said softly.

She smiled. "It's Reeze right? Under that armour?"

"Yeah."

"Nice seeing you in action too."

"Got any juice left?"

"Wall took the last of it. Running on trinkets and tech."

"And Whisper?"

"Same," said another woman, detaching from the shadow. Her pale skin was marked by black tiger stripes. She held a death wand in her hands, thirty centimeters of adamantine inscribed with orichalcum rune circuits and topped with a silver skull. "Our drones own the area though."

"That won't last."

Rumour smiled. "Incaradine's going to drop the hammer," she said, obviously having received a tight beam transmission. "We're to join the party after it gets started."

[Imperial Overlord]

Tehendrosh
Sandresha
The Free Federation

Battle armoured Praetorians evicted the occupants of the surrounding buildings as they set up firing positions. Police Reaction Teams were joining them, elite squads trained and equipped for city fighting. They were a holdover from the days when the threat of Slaver terror strikes or invasions had been serious threats and now they were deployed against the Black. The first Directorate troops were joining them.

This was the First Perimeter and they did not expect to hold it. The Black troops were too numerous and too strong. All they expected to do was buy time for the rest of the city's defenders to be readied and organized and that they could do. They could also make the Black pay a heavy blood price before being forced to retreat. They intended to do that as well.

Over their heads swarms of droids warred in the skies. Some spied, others jammed their enemies, others hunted and killed other drones. The Grand Alliance ones were winning easily as magically stealthed spy drones were hard to find and the orichalcum etched hunter-killers blasted every enemy out of the skies. As such, the Grand Alliance attack on the First Perimeter occured with the benefit of a few seconds worth of surprise and very good knowledge of the enemy's location.

Swarms of missiles arced over buildings and twisted through streets as they streaked towards their targets. Counter measures in the form of anti-missile laser clusters and scrambler fields took out a few of them, but most hit. Explosions ripped gaping wounds in a score of buidings, wiped out three barricades and turned two tanks into burning wrecks. Hard on the heels of the missile strike came the sithi.

The draconian soldiers wore light armour and potent shield harnesses over their powerful frames. Massive shoulder fired missile launchers, rail cannons, and heavy beam guns were fired as they moved up in a frighting swift charge. They unleashed hell on anything that resembled a White soldier.

A few of them fell, most from multiple small arms hits overloading their shields and then additional hits breaching their armour and inflicted serious and mortal wounds. A few others fell to heavy weapons fire, but the White had lost a lot of those to the first barrage. In a little over ten seconds the leading edge of the sithi charge was in close quarters combat with elements of the Praetorians. Guns were dropped and energized blades drawn. The blades cut through shields, armour, and augmented flesh with ease even when the wielder was not a sithi heavy infantryman. Blood spilled.

Reeze's team rushed forward now, joined by other squads and members of the Hellbrood. Reeze leapt across a street, then up through a second story window, smashed and jumped his way up to the third story, leapt through the fourth story window across the street, passed through the building, and then across again to a fifth story window. His team was half a second and ten meters behind him.

He landed, rolled, and sprung upright. He kicked through the wall to his left, his death whip twisting in his right hand. Two Directorate agents in power armour were just entering the room, shifting positions after having narrowly escaped the missile that had destroyed their previous one. They were fast and knew their business. They never had a chance.

Reeze kicked the closest into the wall as his death whip shot for the other's throat. His target was good, managing to deflect the strike. In response, the death whip coiled around his wrist and spun. The blades sliced through armour and flesh, scoring adamantine reinforced bone.

Reeze kicked the first one in the head before he could recover. Sorcerous runes worked into his boot augmented the blow with a burst of power. The front of the agent's helmet collapsed and blood and brain splattered off Reeze's shields. The Witch Hunter snapped out his death whip again and sent the point smashing through the Directorate agent's breastplate. The disruptor effect fried his nervous system. His twitching corpse fell to the floor. The rest of Reeze's team was securing the building.

Around him, much the same was happening. The sithi charge had minimalized the chance of the next wave getting gunned down in the streets before reaching their targets. Deathwands, beam lances, and rifles were fired to cover their advance as they rushed into buildings to root out the enemy in close quarters. Close quarters that favored the veteran killers and their superior equipment.

The First Perimeter began to collapse on all sides, leaving only a few isolated strong points under attack from both the front and the flanks. Beset from three sides and with their rear in danger from Grand Alliance spear thrusts, they crumbled in a storm of weapons fire. They began to fall back.

"This is Incaradine. Harriers, disrupt their attempts to organize resistance. Reform spearheads, prepare for attack on Directorate headquarters and their next line of defence." He switched channels.

"Offensive ahead of schedule, casualties lighter than expected. Resistance is lighter than expected. Directorate HQ will be under direct attack soon. Significant numbers of D-jammers should be knocked off line shortly. Low priority for reinforcements."

[D.Turtle]

Offensive ahead of schedule, casualties lighter than expected. Resistance is lighter than expected. Directorate HQ will be under direct attack soon. Significant numbers of D-jammers should be knocked off line shortly. Low priority for reinforcements."

Why do I have the feeling that this isn't going to last?

Reeze's team rushed forward now, joined by other squads and members of the Hellbrood. Reeze leapt across a street, then up through a second story window, smashed and jumped his way up to the third story, leapt through the fourth story window across the street, passed through the building, and then across again to a fifth story window. His team was half a second and ten meters behind him.

I like this part, it makes you realize the speed of the attack.

Keep up the good work!

[Imperial Overlord]

Tehendrosh
Sandresha
The Free Federation


"Incaradine, this is Whisper."

The legate was motioning his people forward as he received the communication. "What is it?" He was running at twenty kilometers an hour, which meant the White rocket that slipped through their defences hit where he had been five seconds ago. Thunder boomed behind him and blue-white plasma blasted out of the windows of the building's first three stories. The building began to collapse.

"I have confirmation on the drone readings and a tap. They're setting up another battle line. And you had better get some sneaky drones up here. It's raining metal."

"A tap? You clever bitch."

"Us old wolves have our tricks," she said. It was actually a simple trick. She had shot one of the fleeing troopers in the back with a arcanetech stealthed bug and he had carried it back to the enemy lines. "They have a lot of sorcerers on the line and top notch gear."

"As expected," said Incaradine. It was ironic that he had at his disposal the greatest concentration of sorcerous skill in known history and the enemy had more magical power than he did. Of course, give his people an hour to recover and the tables would shift in the other direction but he didn't have an hour. He had, however, other equalizers. He flexed his bejeweled left hand. His sorcerers were not unarmed and he had brought certain specialists with him. Now it was time for them to deliver the victory.

"All units prepare for assault. Witch Hunters and assassin units, target their sorcerers. This is where we pay the blood price. The better we fight the cheaper it will get." He and his bodyguards were moving to the front. There were a hundred men and women he could think of off the top of his head that would be able to take command if he fell. There was no good reason for him not to be at the front and every reason to be there.

The drones and links from forward observers said they were there in force, using the the shielded Security Directorate building as a linchpin of their line. Even if beaten here they could fall back to the built up defences around the Senate. They were taken positions in buildings, in allies, behind parked vehicles and improvised barricades. As expected.

"Assassins, start hunting. All units engage. Begin barrage," Incaradine ordered. Rockets flew from behind the lines, a signal to the defenders as well as a danger. Human and sithi popped up and added the firepower of beam guns and shoulder launched rockets and explosives as winged Elvindar lunged from cover. Lance beams flashed and disruptors whined. Rooms were turned into infernos and vehicles exploded as weapons struck home. Most of the infantry on both sides carried shields and could take a hit or two from enemy weapons before the shields were overloaded.

A thousand Zarkos Elvindar and sithi blurred forward, closing the distance in moments. Nearly a hundred didn't make it, gunned down by the gold and white armoured Praetorians or consumed in flashes of sorcery. The Zarkos struck with killing blades, lethal artifacts of sorcery and science. Impossibly fast and utterly deadly they put centuries of training to lethal use while sithi used their augmented and inhuman strength to much the same effect. For a moment there was confusion. As deadly as they were, they were merely a distraction.

Grand Alliance snipers armed with rune etched orichalcum Devastator rounds fired upon the sorcerers who had revealed themselves. Multiple torso hits were employed to drop their targets where they could be finished by the infantry that overran them. They were one half of the surprise. While they hunted their targets, the other half of the real offensive began.

The Hellbrood, the Witch Hunters, and the Thousand Curses took to the field with all their power. Drained of sorcery, they still had their weapons and the skill to use them. Black rays of flesh destroying death and searing silver light shot from countless rings as death wands were unleashed to slaughter whole squads. Witchfire cannons unleashed vollies of green flame which ravenously tore through shields, armour, and the sides of buildings.

Incaradine leapt through the air towards what appeared to be command center, located conveniently behind an enemy strong point. Head on attack was suicidal. He had faced Daemonstraum. These were men of straw compared to the might of the Great Traitor.

A word ripped its way out of his throat as he struck. "Havoc!" An ancient battle cry, going back nearly a millenia when his ferocity had been legend. Killing power flared in his blades. Their mightiest sorcerer in the building in front of him had his shields almost collapse as he was struck by a white hot bolt from Fleshripper. Plaguebringer flashed with jade light and the sorcerer and two soldiers around him fell, their flesh turning back and sloughing off their bones. Beams and bullets sped around Incaradine. A disruptor bolt and a beam cannon struck his shields directly, depleting them greatly since he couldn't reinforce them with his own strength. A Devastor round struck him in the left lung and exploded, damaging his heart as well.

He came through the window and Plaguebringer bisected the skull of the Praetorian with the gauss gun. Fleshripper blocked and tore through the barrel of a soldier with a beam cannon. The runes on Incaradine's boots flared as he caved in the soldier's breastplate. He drew upon the strength of two score Slaver rings hung around his neck, along with their former owner's finger bones. He shields regenerated and he lunged through the wall and it crumbled before him.

He was The Corpse That Walked, a Necromancer Lord of Darkhold and to inflict a fatal wound upon him would merely slow him. His flesh would have to be entirely consumed or the sorcery that extended and protected his life undone in order to stop him. Until then he was the slayer who was the victor of countless battles. Blood welled up and trickled between his teeth. Pain was his oldest and closest lover. Her presence impaired him not at all. There were three soldiers in the room, one a sorcerer.

The amulet nestled in his left hand smashed through the sorcerer's shields and ruptured his heart and brain. Fleshripper punched through one chest and tore through heart and spine. Black lighting flashed from the battle gauntlet on the hand that clutched Plaguebringer and turned the flesh of the third to dust. His Twelve had finished slaughtering the rest by the time the third hit the floor.

Two of his bodyguard had perished on the way over, despite being men and women equipped with the best and not at all being inclined to dying easy. It was a risk to war and the cost as well. After the battle Incaradine would mourn them as they deserved. Now he would revel in the slaughter with all the joy and ferocity that had made the Senate unwilling to promote him to the Legatate until Zarana herself had appealed directly to them.

"Follow," he ordered. The enemy must not have the time to react to his losses, to counter attack. Speed favored the Grand Alliance, not the White with their rigid command structure. The Slaver rings recharged his shields as they did his weapons, the spoils of battle helping to determine the outcome of another.

A thunder clap hit him like a physical blow and brightness filled the streets. The Witch Hunter teams had succeeded then, breaching Directorate Headquarters and then planting the plasma charges they had carried in their shadowcloaks. Drone sensor relays displayed the gutted shell of the building. Varidan Reeze could always be relied upon to come through.

An explosion bloomed ahead. "Command detachment terminated," came the cold and expressionless voice of Legate Kain. "Slow advance to neutralize any surviving elements. Projections and available data indicate the Senate defence line will be much stronger."

Incaradine grinned like a shark. So many D-scramblers down. His eyes drifted skyward. Was it his imagination or were the clouds gathering above? "Sweep and kill," he ordered. "They know they are glass under our hammer. Let fear start to do its work while we secure our lines and find their weak points." He had lead a thousand offences in the past. It was as if the weight of ages had fallen away, something that not even the training for this operation had done. They were really here. They were winning and soon it would all be over. He hoped the other groups were having as much success.

[Imperial Overlord]

The Senate
Sandresha
The Free Federation


Rhaven Hellborn watched as flames gushed from the wreckage of Directorate Headquarters. Dark clouds were gathering overhead. "Battlecommander report," he said, his voice dripping venom. "What are you doing to prevent my city from falling into enemy hands?"

The response was calm and measured. "My lord, the enemy skilled, numerous, and well armed," said Serenday. "This city is not the ideal terrain in which to resist them. We are slowing them, but at cost."

"I've noticed the cost fool! They're tearing through you!"

"I recommend evacuation," was the response.

Rhaven's face twisted in rage. Evacuate? Abandon the capital? The seat of his power? He would never be able to get the Senate away from here and without the Senate all government functions would be decapitated. Wait.

"Get up," he sneered at Solem. The man shakily got to his feet. "I still have uses for you slave." With the President of the Senate he would still have the head of the government in his possession. The loss of the rest of the Senate hurt, but it would be enough. Escape. Have the fleet glass Sandresha as badly as the Slavers nuked New Eden. Spend the next couple of years putting down the enemy and emerge as the absolute ruler of known space. It would work.

"Come with me," he ordered Solem as he hurried down the halls. Callum Solem, a man who had woken up this morning as the most powerful man in this part of the galaxy, mutely followed his master.

Kormaraq Mountains
Sandresha
The Free Federation


A violet beam flashed three times in a second as the beam cannon tore through shields and armour. Sandren Hest slid down, a smoking hole where his chest used to be. "Rape this!" Senior Sergeant Callia Stann. Her helmet targeting interface had enemy bunker locked in. "Support sections, I need fire on this target now!"

Rock exploded around her beam cannons tore apart her cover. She tossed a seeker grenade and shuffled left. The Kormaraq Defence Complex was a lot tougher than intel had lead them to believe. Wasn't it always the way? Some other bastards got the cake walk and she was hip deep in shit.

Their was a blinding flash, muted by her helmet, and then thunder smote her like a hammer. The bunker higher up the mountain was gone. Kinetic kill hit, either a heavy rail gun or hyper rocket. That just left a shitload of enemy positions left. Time to abuse her seniority positions to keep her people alive.

She switched to a command channel request. "Sir, we need to hit them with the heavy iron or they are going to eat us alive."

"Hold the line," said Overcommander Lessha. "Help is on the way."

The Mosenti Plains
Sandresha
The Free Federation


Her armour pumped a cocktail of stimulants, Serox, and vampire blood into Celene Nightfire's veins. She was in the belly of a heavy shielded command tank, standing next to the commanders of the Reserve Group. They instinctively deferred to her, the Lord of Battle, despite her disability. She was only an advisor now, not a commander. Not with seizures happening with increasing regularity. She couldn't be relied upon. At least she had been able to help with the breach.

"North and Center are proceeding well," she said. "Kormaraq is a different story. We should commit all of our reinforcements there."

"Agreed and in process," said Battlecommander Kline.

"I'll be joining them," she said.

"No," hissed Shemassa.

"My value here is minimal. I have, however, been able to rest and recuperate since forcing the breech. I have a measurable amount of my command of The One Power back." And that was in part because of the nearly lethal dose of chemicals flooding her body. "The importance of this battle justifies the risk."

"If you die Incaradine will flay us alive," said Kline.

"If I die, the brother of my heart will weep for me," she said matter of factly. "Such is war." She exited the hatch. They did not try and stop her because they knew she was right. Winning this battle could mean the early end of the war. Her power was unreliable, but great enough to turn to the tide. It was worth the risk.

She leapt on a passing tank and seized a hand hold with the physical strength that had allowed her go hand to hand with Daemonstraum himself. She saw dark clouds gathering over Tehendrosh. Enough D-jammers had been knocked out for Zerakis and Zarana to lend their power to their chosen. And darker gods as well.

"Be well brother of my heart," she whispered. Her husband was long since gone and she had taken no lovers since her resurrection. The ache of his loss was too fresh. The Slaver Lords had killed her parents and maimed her brother. The White had killed him where he slept in the Vault of the Sleepers. Incaradine and his family was all she had left.

That wasn't quite true. She was a Lord of Darkhold and she was Free Federation. Her people needed her and she would not fail them. "May I die in harness," she repeated soflty. The mountains seemed to race toward her. "Loyalty beyond death." She began to gather The One Power. The time to fight and die was upon her.

[Imperial Overlord]

Kormaraq Mountains
Sandresha
The Free Federation


Dead soldiers and burning vehicles lay scattered through the field. Disruptors and plasma charges had been enough to overwhelm the Kormaraq Complex's shields, but the ground defences had survived intact. Hundreds had already been killed despite the best in shields and armour. Some of them would be reviveable by necromancers. Many wouldn't.

High energy lasers scored the air as Grand Alliance troops tried to struggle forward. Chains of explosions ripped across the mountain face as heavy weapons tore up the rock as they attempted to dig out the White positions. Beams, slugs, and missiles struck back.

It would be easier to use heavy weapons, like say heavy plasma charges or battlefield nukes, to just smash Komaraq flat but they needed the facility relatively intact. To do that they had to force an entrance not turn the place into a pile of rubble. That the ground defences were at least twice as strong as anticipated was not helping.

Missiles and lasers flashed from the onrushing tanks as they joined the battle. Riding one was Celene Nightfire. She felt pressure growing in the back of her skull. "Not now," she whispered. Just a little while longer and she could fall, her mission accomplished. Just a little longer.

Celene leapt free of the one she was riding, her feet not quite touching the ground. She flew just behind the tank she had been riding on for cover. Power flowed toward her like the tide.

It was a fraction of what she could normally handle. She had slaughtered whole legions, engaged ships in orbit, and fought Daemonstraum himself hand to hand and spell to spell. It was, however, enough to change the tide.

Intense cobalt beams flashed from her hands and struck two enemy strong points. White hot rock was blasted away from the impact points as she bored through armour and mountain rock. She struck again and then again. A swarm of missiles flew towards her, but most were cut down by laser clusters. Two missiles exploded near her and plasma rolled over her. Earth and grass became ash and molten glass as it was blasted away. Celene drifted out of the crater. Her shields had been strained, but with her own power reinforcing her ward talismans her shields had held.

She raised her right hand. The pressure was like having her head in a hydraulic vice. Just another minute. Just one more minute. Images of her death flashed before her eyes. Crawling forward with shattered bones over flagstones that were cracking from the heat. A dozen rune marked shafts protruding from her body, her skin peeling away and her flesh failing. Crawling blindly forward to where her husband was, towards life. And failing.

She fell, the power flowing away from her grasp. Her body hit the scarred ground. A tank slewed to a stop, narrowly missing her. A hatch opened and a squat Kordassi tanker leaned out. She seized Celene's arm. "I have her!" she shouted.

A pillar of white light struck down from the sky, a few meters from the tank's position. Clouds of frost rolled away from the column as the light faded. A great tower of melded bone and orichalcum, three kilometers high, was visible for a moment and then the light faded and it was gone.

In its place stood a man, two meters tall, armoured in bone and black leather. Ancient talismans decorated his armour and a battered shadowcloak fluttered around his lean frame. Skulls looked out from the pools of darkness that were his eyes. A long scar marked the right side of his face.

For a moment the Kordassi tanker gaped at the apparition and then beams from two rapid fire laser cannons struck him. The air around him became intolerably bright for a moment as the lasers interacted with his shields. The glow began to fade and then an antitank laser and three rockets slammed into him. A cloud of fire rose into sky. Nearby tanks were battered and buffeted by the shockwave, two of them almost flipping over. Celene's eyes fluttered opened and then went wide. A single word escaped her lips. "Kail."

[Imperial Overlord]

Kormaraq Mountains
Sandresha
The Free Federation

"Kail!" Celene shouted. A shadow figure stepped out of the column of fire, shields shining around him. "Kail!" The ancient links between them, severed with her death, flared to life. The part of her that he had carried with him after her death slid back. In one brief, intense moment she was whole again.

She was Celene Nightfire, the woman who had fought Daemonstraum hand to hand and spell to spell. She was again the woman who had masterminded the strategy that had shattered the last of the Slaver Lord armies and burned their navies. She was again the woman that had unleashed fire and death upon whole legions. Weakness and infirmity was burned from her body as the last part of what she had been was returned to her.

She left go of the hand holding her and leapt from the tank. Her knees bent as she hit the ground. His shields extended, enfolding her within their protection. "Beloved," she whispered. The sounds of battle obscured her words, but they echoed through their links to him.

"How?" he asked and realized it did not matter. He had seen her die as he crawled through the fire with shattered legs to try and save her. The Slavers had murdered her and here she was. A clone wouldn't have her links. They were in the middle of a battle. Questions could be answered later.

She took his hand and targeting data flowed to him. He was Kail Deathwalker e'Zerakis, The Deathless One, The Scarred Lord, The Lord of No Mercy. He had all of his strength and was at the height of his power. She told him what needed to be done.

Brilliant beams of cobalt light flashed from his hands. Deafening explosions and white hot rock flew from their impact points as Kail hammered the mountainside with bolt after bolt. It took him less than a minute to shatter the Komaraq defences. Grand Alliance troops stormed forward as their comrades hammered what little survived with heavy weapons and suppressing fire.

Several squads were equipped with weapons far more deadly than standard issue. One of the them was the second to reach the shredded doors that lead into the mountain's heart. Seeker grenades and beam weapons were fired inside by the first squad as the second began its preparations.

"Banner Sergeant Kadrin," said Lieutenant Renn, "execute." The old veteran didn't need to be told once, let alone twice. The armoured case he carried on his back opened. Renn removed a smoky glass sphere twenty centimeters in diameter. Dark mist swirled inside.

"Careful with that," Isen said.

"Go teach your grandmother to suck eggs," said Kadrin. His gloves were laced with orichalcum circuitry that connected to crystalline power sinks, allowing him to pull off a number of sorcerous effects as long as the charge held out. "Not the first time I've done this." Power flowed. Tiny lightning flashed through the clouds. "Armed and directed."

"Get rid of it," said Renn. Kadrin tossed the the sphere inside where it shattered against the floor. The death wind howled as it sprung free of confinement. The death storm blew into the mountain, killing all in its path. "I hate those raping things," said Renn. "Give me nukes any day."

"Nukes don't leave intact facilities with readable corpses still inside," said Kadrin. "Readable corpses with all the right codes in their brains."

More units moved up to secure the entrance and unleash their own deadly cargoes. The deepest parts of the complex might be able to survive two or three death wind globes. The Grand Alliance troops unleashed seven.

"Beloved," she said softly, "we have done enough here. We are needed elsewhere.

"As you say," he said with a faint smile and a touch of wonder. "As you say."

[LadyTevar]

I don't know whether to go "awwwwwwwwww" at the reunited lovers, or 'Holy HSIT@!" at the thought of the DeathWinds.

[White Haven]

Oh dear. The only thing the White had going for them was the lack of any full-powered necromancers squaring off against them. The only thing. Now there's a totally fresh legend emerging from the back-ass end of beyond, plus one who's very abruptly not a cripple. Gotta wonder how many heavy-calibre tricks the wannabe-slaver has up his sleeve, because he's gonna need 'em.

[LadyTevar]

I'm thinking the 'wannabe' is Daemonstraum's second-in-command that they never confirmed dead, now that I've gone back and re-read all the chapters.

[Imperial Overlord]

I'm thinking the 'wannabe' is Daemonstraum's second-in-command that they never confirmed dead, now that I've gone back and re-read all the chapters.

Except that he denies that he was ever a Slaver Lord, something Kadeastraum most definitely was.

[Imperial Overlord]

Tehendrosh
Sandresha
The Free Federation

A single drop of blood dropped from Incaradine's left hand as black clouds gathered overhead. It hit the ground and hissed, smoke rising from it. Then there was another. And another. "Legate," Sandro Stormfist began, "it is beginning."

Incaradine opened his eyes. Silver light spilled out. "Yes," he said. There was enough access to the Between for the Powers to send aid to their champions. Incaradine had long ago paid the price demanded by the Slaughter God of the Zarkos Elvindar and billions had been saved. He looked up.

Gold eyes glowed briefly in the clouds, the sign of Zerakis. A woman in white came up behind him, a shadowcloak fluttering around you. "Incaradine," she began. Her voice was ragged, her toned clip. She hated him. He was everything about the Darkhold that she hated, a cruel man who took savage joy in wrecking death and destruction.

"Yes, its happening. I take it that Zerakis and Zarana have lent their might to their grandson."

"Yes."

"Thirty seconds from my mark until we strike. Mark." Thirty seconds until Incaradine and the only living grandchild of Zerakis and Zarana smashed into the Praetorian defences and tried to break them with enough power and fury. It had a good chance of working and even if it failed it would probably weaken them badly enough for the rest of the push to succeed with relatively light casualties.

If it failed, they were probably dead. There was a small chance that they could be extracted, but Incaradine wasn't going to put money on that. His wives would fight to save him with all the terrible fury they possessed, but it would probably be too late for that. Victory or death awaited.

Data poured down comm channels, from the general channel to the height of the command net. The torrent consisted of a series of images and one word. "Kail."

"Belay the advance!" Incaradine ordered. "Celene! Confirm!"

"It is true, brother of my heart. He has returned. We are coming. I am whole." Rain began to fall.

Ten thousand voices took up a chant. "KAIL! KAIL! THE GREAT LORD KAIL! KAIL! KAIL! THE GREAT LORD KAIL!"

"The Lord and the Lady! The Lord and the Lady!"

Lightning flashed from the gathered clouds and the golden eyes appeared again. An image appeared, a two kilometer high form that bestrode the city like a colossus. It was of Kail in his full glory. A voice boomed. "None can stand against the Deathwalker! None can stand against the fury of the heirs of Zerakis!"

"Rape it," Incaradine snarled. "If that doesn't demoralize them nothing will. Hit them!" He ran forward and his Twelve rushed to keep up with him.

The image faded, but the fear did not fade from the hearts of the defenders. Many of the Praetorians were brain burned into mindless loyalty to their master, but a few possessed free will as did the police and most of the Directorate troops. They knew that they were naked before the fury of gods, sorcerers, and ancient heroes returned from the grave.

The White had done its best to paint the Lords of Darkhold as villains instead of heroes, but in doing so they had not diminished their fearsome reputation. They were men and women who could reach beyond death and wrestle out of its embrace. Men and women who could slaughter whole legions. Legion killers.

Fear gripped hearts with fingers of ice as they saw the legendary signs of Zerakis's will manifesting. The human founders of the Free Federation were siding with the enemy. Figures out of legend were attacking them and dead heroes were returning to fight alongside the enemy. For some it was too much. They inched away into hiding as the rain became a torrent.

Then they struck, Incaradine and Nerath Shadowstorm, two sorcerers wielding borrowed power, their very flesh sizzling with the consequences of the abuse they were putting it through. The Praetorians had set up in rough semicircle around the Senate building, using the bunkers and blockhouses as strong points. The buildings were surrounded by rose gardens and covered in white plaster to make them seem less like a hostile fortress, an artistic endeavour that was modestly successful.

Stray beams and missiles flew past to blast apart the gardens or hit the shields protecting the actual Senate. The Praetorians returned fire, those that were still in position and fighting. Lightning flashed down from the sky and struck a figure somewhere in the Grand Alliance lines. Then another and then a chain of lighting arcing down towards him.

White hot bolts flashed from the Grand Alliance lines, turning bunkers into fireballs. Whirlwinds dropped down from the storm clouds and sent Praetorians flying. Guns slipped from nervously fingers as fear turned to terror and soldiers began to run.

Incaradine hit the Praetorian lines like a rabid wolverine. Power spilled out of open wounds, white streamers of energy that sliced or blasted through flesh while Incaradine slew with blades or searing beams from his eyes. Blood trickled down the Paingiver's chin, but he did not slow and he did not stop. He was Incaradine and he had faced a greater doom long ago and emerged victorious. He would not give in now.

Shadowstorm fought with him, wrapped in a corona of blazing power. He was a quiet and earnest man who would have been happier having never picked up a sword. He would never believe how close he was to his grandfather in spirit. Blood sprayed off his shining blade as he hacked and slew like a butcher in a mud pit. He spoke words of power and flesh burned. His shields faltered from the weight of enemy fire and he reinforced them before engulfing the enemy in a column of blue-white fire. Armour melted away, flesh turned to ash, and teeth exploded in the conflagration. Blood was all over his hands, some of it his own. He could not remember how it had gotten there.

All along the line the Grand Alliance hammered the Praetorians, paying for every meter taken in blood and fire. The Praetorians wavered under the onslaught and then, seemingly all at once, broke. Like a fire or a fever the rout spread as they fell back or ran. A few hold outs stayed and fought as others hustled towards the Senate building for one last stand or fled into the rest of the city.

"Forward!" Incaradine screamed over the command net and on the general channels. They had won the fight, but they could still lose the prize. He staggered and almost fell. Arms like steel cables held him up. "Forward! Take the Senate!" They had to take the Senate. They had to. If the Praetorians turned their weapons on their charges then billions more could die. They could even lose the war. Holding them was no guarantee of a victory, but by the uncaring gods it would help.

"Easy my husband," Dianna said as she held him.

"Go," he snarled. Bloody spittle dripped from his lips. "Go! Finish it!"

She nodded and dropped him in the mud, as much as it pained her. He would survive, their newborn victory might not. There was only one right move. She raised Night's Edge, once the sword of Zerakis and Kail and now hers. Cyan light clung to its adamantium edges. "Advance!" She shouted. "To victory!"