The galaxy is scattered with thousands upon thousands of “Maiden worlds”; a legacy of the fall, when the Eldar were forced to abandon the planets they had once colonised at a time when their empire had unquestioned reign. After the warp storms had settled, their energy all but exhausted by the birth of She who thirsts, the crude Mon-keigh, lesser beings in the eyes of the Eldar, “inherited” these planets and settled them for their own ends. Often the Eldar would attack these Imperial settled worlds in seemingly random displays of agression; however in the case of particularly exhausted craftworlds like Iyanden, it was their only hope of survival to snatch any resources they could find.

A young farseer chanced upon one of these maiden planets. Eager to prove himself to the craftworld’s high council, he assembled a warhost of keen warriors and rushed forth through the wraithgate leading to the planet’s surface. He was joined in his effort by a band of pathfinders, who had earlier scouted ahead to find the enemy’s entrenchment. They brought back reports of a space marine camp a few miles from the wraithgate’s position. These marines were of the Ultramarines chapter, revered warriors and amongst the Emperor’s most loyal servants. The Farseer called together the Exarchs, the mighty warrior priests of Khaine skilled beyond comparison in the arts of war, and discussed the plan of action. This had once been a fertile land, teeming with life and vast ecosystems- now a desolate rock polluted by its new inhabitants and their industrial way of life. The plan decided the Farseer gave the order to march forward, and each to their battlestations. Along with the aspect warriors marched a towering wraithlord, once a great warrior in some past life- the Farseer’s own bodyguard was made up of lesser wraith-constructs so that were common to Iyanden when seen at battle, and a warlock attendant to bolster his already formidable psychic presence. With them at his side the Farseer knew they would not fail, and was already envisioning scenes of their victory.

The mission was cleanse: for the Eldar it was a matter of driving the marines from their posts and capturing as much of the battlefield as possible- for the marines it was a matter of keeping those posts. Both armies faced each other from their quarter of the battlefield- unfortunately for the Eldar, the space marine servo-sensors must have earlier detected the pathfinder scouting party, as when the Eldar arrived, they had already seized the iniatiative and their battleline was ready.

The space marines had already entrenched themselves among the ruins and bunkers, their commander ready to give the order to fire at will.

The Eldar warhost, poised for battle.

Marine turn 1

Sentrys had reported an intruder in the complex. Not willing to take any chances, the commander quickly gathered his men and posted them amongst the defences- xenos had been known to strike in this vicinity, he suspected it was only a scouting party. That meant more were coming. Sure enough on the horizon appeared a mass of marching alien warriors, clad in brightly coloured armour, amongst them a towering construct in the form of a giant man, and one of the fabled grav-tanks. Eldar- he knew them well. Their battle line was fronted by warriors in green armour wielding vicious chainsaws, he could already hear their motors buzzing. He spared not a moment- over the intercom he ordered the sergeants to fire at will upon these close-combat specialists who threatened to tear apart their entrenchment from inside. Their shots fell true, and the green armoured Eldar were immediately reduced to a fragmented wreak, torn asunder by heavy bolter rounds, plasma bursts, and a dreaded assault cannon from the brother dreadnought that rent them asunder. The commander was pleased; he was not wrong to place faith in his men’s shooting ability. Meanwhile a tactical squad was given the order to advance into one of the empty quarters- if they were going to root out these xenos, they were going to have to get up close and personal.

Eldar turn 1

The scorpions had suffered dire losses, but the Exarch, a hero amongst his kind managed to rally the only other two surviving warriors and gave the order to further advance. The council had told the Farseer he was too impetuous- maybe they were right. But he did not lose hope- casting runes from his pouch he found the strand of fate that could spell their demise, and cut it. The advance of the wraith constructs would remain implaccable. The Falcon leapt forward, the rest of the army following closely behind; save the reapers and pathfinders who maintained their sound vantage points. Their shurican weaponary was not yet in range, but the wrathlord let out a blast from its lance and missile launcher, stunning the hidiously armed dreadnought. The falcon bore down all its weapons on the devastator squad that had so horribly ravaged the scorpions in an act of vengeance, felling 2 of the marines. The pathfinders turned their rifles to the marines entangled in the nearby forest; the fools did’nt know what was shooting them. The Farseer had managed to hold the march together… so far.

Marine turn 2

So far so good, thought the commander. The tight discipline he instilled in his men had proven to keep moral high after the few casualties that had been suffered. But then disaster struck for the space marines. The terminators he had ordered to be beamed down in support had misjudged the Eldar’s positione, and landed at point blank range of the dark reapers. The Exarch cackled as he and his disciples loosed a cloud of missiles into the bewildered and disorientated mon-keigh, too slow and lumbering in their massive battlesuits to take evasive action.

Disaster strikes for the terminators

Despite this heavy loss, the battle was too far underway now to turn back. Now the efforts of the devastator squad and tactical marines was foccussed on the dire avengers, whos fragile limbs were torn apart by the hail of heavy piercing rounds, even their reinforced armour no match to stand against them. They were demoralised, the squad having been brought down to half strength: the Eldar were slowing running out of scoring units. The sergeant from the squad proceding thorugh the forest gave the order to fire into the ruins: the marines did’nt know what they were shooting at, but nevertheless were willing to obey.

Eldar turn 2

The reapers reloaded, exhilarated by the carnage they had wreaked upon some of the Emperor’s finest soldiers. The Dire Avengers held firm, having suffered the same fate as the scorpions. The Falcon further advanced, ready to unload its passengers into the ruins which the tactical marines and their commander held. Not yet though, the Farseer warned. Now that the Farseer could clearly see the entrenched marines he cast more runes, spelling out their demise- spiting them for the loss of his warriors. Yet again the Falcon let loose into the Devastators, finishing them all. The Wraithlord crippled the dreadnought with a longranged blow, immobilising it and in so doing stunning it yet again. Once again the pathfinders gleefully let loose their rifles into the ignorant marines, skillfully picking out the weak sections in their seemingly flawless armour, further thinning their advance. With what they had left the avengers hailed shuricans into the doomed marines, but to no avail. The decisive blow would fall next turn.

Marine turn 3

Long range support was getting thin now, and the Eldar were on the doorstep. A missile managed to wound the towering wraith construct, which momentraily juddered as if it could still feel pain. the tactical squad returned fire upon the blue clad warriors, wiping all out but two, who subsequently fled the battle.

The Exarch gives the order to retreat

The Falcon had landed close to the ruins where the majority of the space marines had been posted. Somehow the commander knew that whatever was about to emerge would’nt be welcome.

Eldar turn 3

Without wasting a moment the Scorpions on board the Falcon disembarked, one sole thought on their mind: revenge. The Avengers had chosen to flee the scene. Cowards, the Farseer thought- not that they would be needed now though, it seemed.

The battle was well under way now. But suddenly, disaster struck for the Eldar; as the Farseer plied with the strands of fate, he saw it approaching in his witch sight, steadily and surely: his psychic nemesis. It had taken the form of a demon of some nature, a gaping jaw with razor sharp teeth, scythed talons that threatened to tear not his flesh but his mind. He knew this could well be his end, but not here, not now: with every shread of willpower, he fought- the demon getting closer and closer. When he knew it was safe to deattach himself he threw off his ghosthelm, and just in time- the last image in his witch sight was of jaws closing over him. He picked the helmet off the ground and placed it back over his head, not wishing to inhale further the foul industrial fumes that plagued the battlefield, both his comrades and his enemies oblivious to the incredible danger he had just faced.

“What is it?”- asked the warlock, “Nothing. Carry on.”

Shurican weaponary hailed down on the doomed tactical marines, now trapped by the ruins which had previously offered them protection. The scorpion squad readied plasma grenades, hurled them at the marines- a white hot flash blinded them, and they were forced out of their defensive position. Now the vicious chainsaws were born down upon them, stubbornly refusing to beg for mercy and it was just as well, for the scorpions knew none. One scorpion was felled by an exceptional marine, but then the Exarch tore into them, the Scorpion claw rending any survivors of the initial assault, dead. It was a massacre. The scorpions consolidated behind the ruined wall, ready to tear into the heart of the enemy force, the marine commander.

None were spared.

Marine turn 4

The commander despaired; things had started so well, but it seemed almost nothing could compensate for the horrific casualties his men had just suffered. He advanced with his squad into the ruins to confront the brigands, and let out some shots from his pistol whilst the squad rapid fired with their bolters. Another scorpion fell, the others sheltered by the wall. The Falcon was now in much clearer view having not moved last turn, but its domino field managed to obscure enough so that all of three melta shots at short range only managed to blow off all its weapons. The commander braced himself. He was about to be charged by not one but two units of scorpions, both the Exarch’s now in clear view. He would die a warriors death, and a magnificent one at that.

Eldar turn 4

The farseer could still feel the presence of his nemesis, but this time the ghosthelm shielded him. The fragmented scorpions joined their comrades, heartened by the sight of their fellow warriors, and readied to tear into the commander and his retinue, plowing thorugh the ruins. Meanwhile on the other side of the battlefield the wraithlord joined efforts with the pathfinders, and turned his flamers onto the marines in the forest, killing last one.

The wraithcannons were now in range of the dreadnought, whose armour plates buckled under the strain of vicious warp energy. The Farseer hurled his spear, but it fell short- and returned gracefully to his grasp. Combat was under way now, and all was lost for the commander: although he managed to survive the melee his retinue was massacred and he was driven all the way back to the edge of the battlefield.

Marine turn 5

What to do? the commander was trapped, surely nothing but death was to follow. He bravely marched towards the Farseer and his bodyguard, vowing to fell this alien intruder himself: he loosed a shot from his plasma pistol but alas, it missed. The dreadnought fired its assualt cannon into the wraithguard under the power of the machine spirit, rending one of them. Only the tactical squad at the other side of the battleground along with the razorback survived; their best hope to hold their ground and keep the quarter under their occupation.

Eldar turn 5

One of the Wraith-constructs had been deactivated; it mattered not, it had served its purpose- and after the battle its spirit stone would be collected to be placed within another shell. The Wraithlord turned yet again on the Dreadnought, but only stunned it. The Falcon, with no weapons left opted to tank shock the large tactical squad left on the far quarter: they held strong, and moved out of the way, conveniently into the range of the pathfinders rifles. Now it was final: all the remaining scorpions and the farseer along with his retinue charged at the commander, smothering him: he clawed helplessly at the wraith-constructs whose shells were too resilient to feel even the blue hot energy of a crackling power weapon, and then the scorpion exarchs, united in vengeance, slaughtered him brutally as their claws slammed down. Two of the scorpions consolidated into the Dreadnought, depriving it of its chance to shoot next turn.

The commander, surrounded and outnumbered

Marine turn 6

What shooting their was fell yet again on the pathfinders, who held strong. The dreadnought in an act of vengeance after having helplessly watched the slaughter of the commander managed to fight off and kill both scorpions. There was nothing left to do.

Eldar turn 6

The Wraithlord destroyed the razorback which had bridged the gap between the pathfinders and the marines. The Farseer in a final act of violence hurled his spear yet again, and this time it hit true, penetrating the dreadnought and destroying it in a spectacular explosion.

The battle was over.

The space marines demoralised by the loss of their commander and the brother dreadnought sounded the order to withdraw: the Eldar could have their planet, one day the servant’s of the Emperor would return and punish them for what they had done. At the end of the day half the field was under Eldar occupation and the other half remained contested by the Wraithlord, Falcon and pathfinders. Although the losses had been many, at the end of the day the result was a resounding

VICTORY FOR THE ELDAR!

The Farseer contacted the council to make them aware of his victory. They were impressed, and support parties were sent through the wraithgate to aid his conquest. The wounded were carried away to receive whatever treatment they could; the dead were mourned, especially the brave striking scorpions to whom the battle was owed: their spirit stones would be cherished. The pathfinders who had also played a key role in the victory were rewarded, and having bade farewell to the Farseer and his companions they went off yet again on their travels.