TURN ONE- Dark Eldar: One of the fallen Dark Eldar with throat intact was able to make substantial enough cries to alert the rest of the Kabal. The promise of bloodshed and souls was sobering to the Warriors who formerly caroused about in a drug-induced haze. They sprinted to their skiffs and clambered aboard as the gravitic engines ground up the hardpan and the vector thrusts singed the treeline. The Haemonculi wiped themselves down from their interrupted diversions and summoned their Reaver jetbikes which obediently hovered to their sides in a flourish of vapor. A third Haemonculus vigorously quirted a pack of howling Grotesques as they scrambled to the decks another Raider. Meanwhile, bound captives watched helplessly as the senseless violence between bloodlines unfolded before them.
The Dark Eldar infantry formed a riprap wall of gun barrels, preparing to seed the night with a wave of suppression fire--knowing full well of the phenomenal agility and Holo technology of their foppish kin. Skiffs and Reavers diverted to the left and right of the main force, in hopes of devouring the morsels like a slithering phagocyte--despite the manuever's predictability.
Regardless of their speed to sobriety, the smoke and
darkness denied shooters of any connecting shots. The choice of what to do next was handed
over to the Harlequins.
TURN ONE- Harlequins: The decision was made as the Solitaire materialized in the midst of the Kabal; his outline still trailing the essence of the warp like a tenebrous mantle. Following his lead, the Death Jesters activated their Phase Fields and stepped through the lacerated reality, reappearing heralded by the gibbering and slavering sounds of warp creatures feebly attempting to escape the other realm. Bright Lances were hoisted to shoulders as if weightless; the muted hum of the weapons powering up was almost melodic.
One Death Jester trained sights on a Raider in his immediate vicinity, but the shot was fouled either by the residual essence of the warp, or the impetus of his advance. The shrieking arc of searing light did nothing more than burn a hole in a fin of the skiff, inspiring the Warriors on-board to take notice if nothing else. Another Jester attempted to purge a roaming Hellion with the consuming light, but the shot was again ineffectual as the dark acrobat made a miraculous save. The darkness obscured the shots of two other Jesters, but the Solitaire pivoted and lodged a shuriken in the spinal column of a fleeting Hellion, downing the adroit Wych.
The Solitaire spared no time to reflect on his amazing marksmanship, as he lunged into a pack of nearby Warriors that were utterly taken off guard by the distance the lone Harlequin had cleared. The Solitaire dashed forward, flicking the spool of his Kiss into the midsection of a Warrior staring at him dumb-foundedly. The spool unraveled, sectioning the hapless Warrior into countless segments and several hues of crimson mist. With a twist of the ejector, the glimmering wire twirled about a second Warrior whose torso and legs fell in three separate directions. Upon recoiling the Kiss, the Solitaire sliced through a third. A well-planted roundhouse kick sent the Warrior's upper body several feet back into the weeds. Elsewhere, a Death Jester bristling with Power Blades rushed the remaining two Hellions, brutally cutting them down with the screech of grinding steel and engines.
As the battle was joined, the unbeforeseen statues of ancient gods seemed to observe the event. At one point a deep, omnipresent voice said, "Oooh, that's gotta hurt."