>>31263717SIGMA OCTANUS IV: M41:965
Shrike peered over the crest of the ridge, cranking the magnification of his helmet up. He triggered his comm:
"Contact with artifact, it's a webway gate. Seems to be active."
The voice of his second crackled back:
"Support needed?"
"Negative. Doesn't seem to be any-shit"
Several lithe figures in bright, sparkling costumes stepped out of the crackling nimbus of the webway.
"Harlequins. Two, four, six, eight..."
Shrike trailed off as more and more figures stepped through. At last the flow stopped, and Shrike did a quick head-count,
"I count twenty-six eldar. Wait-"
Another figure emerged, and walked a short distance away from the others. Then it turned and looked straight at Shrike. He shuddered, a chill racing up his spine that had nothing to do with the drizzle pattering off his helmet.
"Twenty-seven, I repeat, twenty-seven Eldar have come through the gate and appear to be making camp."
"Do we engage?"
Shrike thought. The Eldar were outnumbered by his men by a significant margin, but he had heard horror stories about the Harlequins in battle, and didn't want a fight that he could avoid.
"Negative. Move to my position, I'm going to try diplomacy." He killed his vox before his second could respond, and stood up. With a flex of his legs, he lept over the edge of the ridge, and plummeted straight down. At the last second, he flared the wings of his flight pack, and landed with a thump. The eldar all around him started, and hands went to weapons. Shrike fought the urge to go for his bolt pistol, and instead raised his hands.
"Hold, Eldar! I mean no harm." He looked around at the tense Eldar,
"Who is in charge here?"
An Eldar, tall even for his kind stepped forwards, his helmet bearing a bright red plume, and his coat shimmering with mesmerizing colours. As Shrike looked at the Harlequins featureless mask, features slowly began to appear on it. Shrike watched, bemused, as a perfect representation of his helmet appeared.
