“The Space Wolves revere the Emperor as the greatest warrior of all time, the only being to have ever bested Leman Russ in hand-to-hand combat. When Space Wolves call upon Russ or the Emperor in battle, it is to witness the deeds of men and to judge the fallen.” - Meditations upon the Fang, Codex: Space Wolves (5th Edition), p. 27.

User ‘Fabricator-General’: “Have the escapees been located, Enginseer?”

The harsh buzz of binary echoed across the metallic confines of the Ommisian Temple. The ensignia of a skull within a gear and half replaced with cybernetics stood proudly between some of the many steel pillars of the temple.

User ‘Enginseer Bronze Circuit’: “Affirmative, my lord. They have been spotted by the India-Whiskey cameras in sector six-three-seven. What are your orders?”

The metallic centipede-like form of the Fabricator-General hissed and steamed in irritation as its internal processors whirred to life. The low red lights barely illuminating its form to the lowly Engiseer.

User ‘Fabricator-General’: “[irritation][muttering]Of all the places…[/irritation][/muttering] Encircle the area with Skitarii legion ‘Lucius’ and capture them once they leave sector six-null-null.”

User ‘Enginseer Bronze Circuit’: “By your word, my lord.”

Attempted hailing detected. Priority: Primus
Loading data package…

Arcane was drawn out of the changeling queen’s tale by a flashing prompt in the middle of his vision. Its existence calling all but the smallest bits of his attention to it.

Error. Data corruption detected. Displaying salvageable data.

-----
FROM THE LIPS OF THE MACHINE GOD
TO THE MINDS OF HIS CHOSEN.
HEED HIS WORDS, AND OBEY.
-----
F######E ORDO##########
TO SK##############LUCI##

REROUTE FORCES TO SECTO############### BY T###ORDER OF THE ###################
BEGIN AR## SHUTDOWN ORDER 16###
CAPTURE THE ESCAPEES AT A########
FOR THE#######DISGRACED ############ AND HAVE TAKEN ONE OF OUR OW#

####HI# WILL BE D###
THUS DO WE INVOKE THE MACHINE#####
######### MAKE WHOLE THAT #######WAS SUNDERED.

End Message.

Arcane’s eyebrows rose at this, with his eyes flicking over to his minimap. With a mental command that he had yet to fully understand, he expanded it to take up his entire vision. Through the mess of changeling icons, he took note of a solid circle of red that slowly constricted upon the hive, stopping only at the edge of the changelings’ influence.

Dedicating additional cores to reconnaissance…
Tuning sensors away from ‘TAG:CHANGELING’...

With naught a sound nor flicker, the changeling icons disappeared and the circle of red turned into a mass of dots. Each moved with calculated precision to leave an exact distance between them. Behind the main mess of dots, some larger icons moved into place, at least one for every five of the smaller ones.

Detecting hostile tags…
Hostile tags identify as ‘Legiones Skitarii: Lucius.’
Higher Ranking Priests Detected.
Attempting to hail…

‘Skitarii? Isn’t that… something. Why do I feel like I should know this?’ Arcane mused, steam raising from his chest as additional cores were dedicated to conscious thought. As he turned his attention away from the, now minimized, map, he took note of Zethala’s story slowing to an end.

“And I heard hisss voice cut through my sssleep of death, he called to me and sssaid, ‘return to usss, noble Queen. Thou art not destined to die thisss day.’” Zethala concluded, her faraway look fading as she returned to the moment.

“Chitin. We have hostiles incoming… ‘Legiones Skitarii, Lucius,’ apparently.” He interjected, his tone low in an attempt to go unnoticed by the queen in the room.

“The Ssskitarii? Impossssible, they are not allowed on our grounds.” The high queen interrupted with a tone of finality. “You mussst be missstaken, drone.”

“Do the walls count?” Arcane shot back, ‘I’m really getting tired of this…’

She only replied with a hiss and her ears twitched as if listening to something they couldn’t hear. A few moments passed as they stood in awkward silence before it was broken by Zethala raising from her throne with another hostile hiss. “What did you sssteal from them?”

“Only our own lives.” Chitin replied honestly, flinching back from something Arcane couldn’t sense.

“Of fucking courssse. Now they want their livesss back.” Zethala spat, summoning her magic into the form of a long spear and a tower shield.

The spear was two and a half meters of the purest gold, its metallic surface gleaming with a burning passion. Across the sides of its spear head, of which made it look more like a bladestaff that anything, was the words ‘No mercy for the guilty sun’ engraved and backed by silver fineary. The haft was wrapped in cured leather, its deep brown accenting the gold even more as a single ribbon of red velvet snaked down from a rectangular cut-out in the blade.

The shield, in contrast was of shining silver and chrome. Accented by a pair of burning red rubies near the middle of the shield, and additional accents of browning bronze. Like the armour of platemail, the shield had plates of steel and bronze layered on top on another for additional strength. The face of the shield was decorated with geometric patterns that drew the eyes to the pair of rubies that looked out like cat’s eyes.

Not even breaking stride, the high queen grasped the weapons in her three-horned green magic and approached Arcane, stopping only once she was within two meters of him. With a steeled tone, she addressed him with a certainty that sent a shiver down his spine.

“We cannot ssstand againssst them forever. They are here for you two, that much I am sssure.” She explained calmly, her gaze piercing through Arcane with its intensity. “Our forcesss are… disssplaced, and we only have a ssskeleton guard on hoof. Ssso, will you ssstand with usss againssst thossse who pursue you?”

High threat detected.
Skitarii Onager Dunecrawlers have became hostile.
Avoidance advised.

Sparing a glance over to Chitin, who seemed to be calculating the risks of this operation, Arcane steeled himself and spoke with certainty. “May I discuss this with the Princess?”

“Of courssse.” Zethala replied before continuing to the entrance of the throne room. “Tell the guardsss outssside your anssswer. I mussst prepare the defencesss.”

The main door closed with a echoing boom as the temperature seemed to raise a few degrees with Zethala gone. Chitin hissed out a low breath as she shook her muscles and loosened them from the tension she hadn’t noticed gaining.

“What do you think?” Arcane asked evenly, his voice void of the fear she once knew him for.

“I don’t know. Do you know anything about what’s coming?” Chitin replied, thinking over her options. ‘We can fight, hopefully earning some respect from the ‘High Queen,’ for whatever that’s worth… We could probably make it if we run, I doubt they could detect me when I’m actually trying…’

“Not really. There is… a lot of them though.” Arcane shrugged, seemingly disappointed at his lack of information.

‘Chances are, we’re outnumbered. Not sure about being outmatched, for as technologically advanced as they are, I doubt they can take on an Ancient Queen.’ Chitin hummed in thought, drawing a mental map of her information on the ‘Skitarii.’ ‘We’re still going in near-blind, and as annoying as it is, the Queen is likely to be our best option… I’m out of my depth, our resident god is missing, and I’m stuck with a pony who knows less about himself than normal.’

‘But at the same time… if we help her, we might be able to get some new gear. As useful as fangs are, I wouldn’t mind some extra firepower for later…’ Looking over Arcane, Chitin took note of the large array of futuristic weaponry he had strapped to himself. It was… interesting to her that a pony, even one that had gone through as much as he had, would have the guts to stare down a queen. Let alone one as old as Zethala claims to be.

“Do you think we could take them?” Chitin asked levelly, the irony of her asking a pony for strategic advice wasn’t lost on her.

“Alone? Definitely not. But with some help? Maybe.” Arcane shrugged, letting out a hot gust of air from his muzzle. “I’ve got a… ‘pop-up’ saying that there are about a thousand of them, and another saying that the changelings number only in the hundreds.”

“Any of those hunks of metal telling you what we should do?” She sighed, quickly checking over her wings for any signs of decay.

“It predicts a… sixty-seven point three-three-four percent chance of survival with their assistance. Along with a thirty-nine point six-one percent chance of minimal casualties.” Arcane answered diligently, his glowing red eyes staring at something only he could see. “It doubts that Bravo will survive, but it knows that Zethala will rake in the highest ‘kill count.’”

“Fine. This is acceptable chances. I may be able to sneak out of here but with all your metal, you’ll definitely give us away.” Chitin reasoned, buzzing her wings in irritation. “Fighting will probably be our best option…”

“Alright. I’ll… I’ll help however I can.” Arcane nodded, his voice shaking slightly.

“Do you think you can handle it?” Chitin asked, a sincere tone leaking into her voice for but a moment before being replace with her usual irritation. “You are a pony after all.”

“Not sure if I count anymore though.” Arcane replied jokingly, his attempt at humour contrasting his sour emotions greatly. “I’ll be… fine. I’ll live.”

‘No comment on that one. He tastes bad enough already.’ Chitin’s scowl lightening slightly as she began to make her way to the door. Arcane falling behind her with his creepily consistent stride.

The shining chrome doors, accented with lighter silver and taller than three of her own heights, opened with barely a touch. Its mass split across the middle and sucked into the roof and floor with naught a sound.

On the other side, a pair of changeling guards stood, shorter than the others by a meter or so, their height only just allowing them to stare down at the unlikely duo. They were thinner than the others, with more muscles in the hind legs than the front ones. They were equipped with armour reminiscent of princess Luna’s guards’ own, with the only main difference being their armaments, instead of swords or spears, they had a long ‘L’ of blackened chrome. With accents of the weapon being done in a glowing red light. The pair looked over to the young princess with indifference, intrigued only by the noise she made in her wake.

“We wish to assist your queen in combat. But first we must be armed and armoured.” Chitin commanded, ignoring the foul taste in her mouth that followed. “We also expect the same treatment for our followers. Including the one near the outer end of the hive.”

“As you command, princess.”

After a considerable walk through the sanitised, bleak, and most of all, repetitive halls of metal, Chitin, Arcane, and the guard that was acting as a tour guide, was greeted with Bravo and another pair of guards standing before a large, vault-like door.

“My queen! It is a great blessing to see you once more!” Bravo greeted, his eyes still glazed-over with the pink tinge of Chitin’s venom.

“Yes, yes. I’m glad you’re no longer turning into a pony-sickle.” She dismissed sarcastically with a wave of her hoof. Her eyes piercing the three guards that were now bunched up near the door.

“As am I, my queen. But I must inquire, what are we doing here? My… uh… company, are not one for conversation.” Bravo nervously chuckled, giving himself some distance from the aforementioned guards in favour of being closer to his queen.

“We’re going to war. The hive is going to be under assault soon, and we are assisting in the defence.” Arcane butted in, doing his best to make his voice seem calm and cold.

‘To be fair, he’s doing a good job… for a pony.’ Chitin noted with a light roll of her eyes. Her own mental tone surprising herself with its lack of her patented snark.

“Ah, of course, my lord.” Bravo replied, visibly deflating as he was ignored by his queen before lighting up again as he turned to Chitin with another question. “And, my queen! I must inquire, but, what role will I play in your brilliant strategy?”

‘I’m really starting to dislike his boot-licking… Fucking venom, I knew I should have used a different compound.’ She sighed, looking over to the guards that waited tirelessly for her order to continue. “Support. I’ll need someone to watch my back whilst I work.”

“Wondrous! I’ll be sure to do this to the best of my abilities, my queen!” Bravo chittered happily, ignoring the looks of amusement from Arcane.

‘Understandable. It isn’t very often one sees such a large stallion act with so much emotion.’ Chitin shrugged, allowing a light smirk to grace her muzzle as she turned to address the waiting guards. “We require a set of light infiltration armour, a set of heavy armour, and a set of support rigging for my escort. Along with any weapons befitting of our stature.”

“At once.” One of the guards replied before running off to a side room.

A few moments passed before the guard, assumedly the same one, and an additional pair of ponies joined them. The ponies carrying a large assortment of equipment that, yet again assumedly, was for them.

The ponies were unremarkable, both of them were earth pony stallions, and both of them bore red-tinged and glossed over eyes that came with the usage of a changeling’s most useful venom. But the equipment on the other hoof, the equipment was interesting.

The pair sorted it into three piles, one in front of each of Chitin’s… party. The first to be finished was that of Bravo’s, its arsenal numbering the least of all of the piles.

The armour, that Bravo oh-so hurriedly equipped, was light. Consisting of a flexible leather under armour along with a few plates to cover vitals and joints. But the baulk of the mass was within the backpack that came with it.

With a boxy main part that was about half as thick as his torso, and a pair of metallic… arms that protruded from the left side. On the right side was another pair of arms, but instead of the two-pronged hands of the others, they had a proportionally large chain blade and drill attached to a boxy mess of wires and tubing. The other, unlike the tools of pain offered by the first, was an assortment of needles that were attached to the main body of the backpack by multicoloured surgical tubes. To top it all off, it was attached to Bravos body by a mess of straps, and most importantly, a thick bundled wire that attached to a hidden port behind his right ear.

Other than the suit, his pile had four full-hoof shoes that, similarly to the needles, attached to the backpack through bundled wires. They, unlike the backpack, were strapped close to his legs as they made their way up to the boxy part of his backpack. As he equipped them, they began to crackle and glow with a violent looking energy.

The second pile to be finished, Arcane’s, was quite different. With no real armour, and only an assortment of plates that the ponies attached to the inside of his armoured trench coat. Though, it covered the other end of the offense-defense spectrum with an even larger assortment of weapons than Bravo’s, or even the guard’s, loadouts.

For his right side he had a box near his flank that shot forth eight barrels almost longer then he was, that were attached to each other at two points near the middle and just before their end. The final thing of note for the box, would be the belt of coppery brass that attached to a plain box that followed the gun on the underside.

On the other hoof, his left side he was equipped with a set of boxy, metallic saddlebags that took up his whole side. The bags glowed from blue strips of light that bordered its edges and a mess of blue wires that connected the bag to itself.

If this wasn’t enough, the get-up also came with another, larger backpack that held short, almost hoof-length tubes that shot out in every direction. Racks upon racks of them layered upon themselves until one could barely see what they were attached to.

Along with this, Arcane was also given four of the same full-hoof shoes that was given to Bravo, and an additional layer of armour under the sleeves of the trench coat. Turning what was once a medium weight set of armour into something to rival and outpace the plate mail suits of his homeland.

But, in the end, her pile of armaments held the greatest rewards. A set of magically lightened half-plate backed with blackened leather and forged in shade-steel.

‘An alloy of titanium, steel, and changeling goo. Stronger than any of the three when apart, and able to amplify any runes or enchantments placed upon it. Including my shapeshifting!’ Chitin mentally giggled, casting a quick spell to keep her excitement off of her face. ‘I thought the recipe was lost during the original purge of the Everfree hive! Ha ha ha! In your face, Chrysalis!’

Along with the armour, a long flowing cloak was attached to the shoulder plates weaved out of the finest silk and enchanted to mask its wielder from view.

For the weapons, a pair of hoofblades were attached to the armour’s front shoes, and a rapier, crackling with magical and electrical energy, was sheathed into a scabbard lain across the back of the armour.

Along with this, a short, also boxy, ‘L’ was held on the right side of the armour’s flank, its power radiating from a thick blue tube that replaced all but the tip of its barrel.

Weapons interface detected.
Downloading software…

Arcane shuddered at the foreign feeling of a hoof long metallic interface plug inserting itself into the back of his skull. Its mass seemingly disappearing into hammerspace as it entered him.

Additional cores found. Directives completed.
Updating self-diagnostics…

CPU Nodes: 18 (57% Engaged)
Memory Nodes: 20
Power Level: 76% (-)
-----
Directives:
Primary = Maintain Operation
Secondary = Restore Subsystems
Tertiary = Restore Connection to Uplink
-----
Damaged System Report:
Stabilization Core = 76% Efficiency
Arcane Power Conversion Ring = 46% Efficiency
Mag-Lock Pads 1-3 = 63% Efficiency
Mag-Lock Pad 4 = ERROR
Uplink Systems = ERROR, HIGH PRIORITY
-----
Additional Notes:
Passive Thu’um Absorption Systems have encountered a overload within 24 hours. Maintenance is recommended.
Uplink nodes have been damaged beyond acceptable operation limits. Repair is required, Priority: Cobalt.

Arcane flinched as a sharp phantom pain pierced his mind, its pain resting over his right side. As the seconds passed, the pain ebbed into a dull throb before fading into the back of his mind. As if acting on instinct, or even curiosity, he clenched the area, marveling in the sensation of the pain slowly spinning and gaining speed.

WARNING: Safety is active. Firing is disabled.

Like a teasing seductress refusing the end of the event, the spinning continued, teetering on the edge of feeling complete. Always missing the something it needed to finish.

It was... odd. Like a pistol hammer striking on an explosive that wasn’t there, and like a cut that brings no pain.

‘Not odd… alien. Feeling alien in my own body…’ Arcane mentally sighed, the rotations slowing to a halt as he looked around the room.

Bravo was watching Chitin like a colt watching a foal-hood crush, whilst she was marveling over her new equipment with what seemed to be indifference. The ponies that had equipped the trio had left some time ago, their passing only being noticed by the blue unicorn after the fact. All while the changeling guards watched the young princess as if awaiting her orders.

He felt alone in a crowded room, the emotions that should follow still far from his mind, leaving only a hollow feeling. Oh, how he waited for the tears he knew so well, like a wife waiting a husband killed in conflict, he was greeted only by their absence.

Another plug joined the first, heralding the coming of more phantom pains. This pain, unlike the first, was emanating from his back and left side, but beyond that, they gave no difference to him. Even the words that stretched across his vision blurred together as he stared into space.

With a slow mechanical movement, he raised his right hoof into his vision. His eyes visualising the hard metallic surface that now was his hooves, covered only by the armour given to him by strangers. Was this what he was becoming? A weapon to be used by strangers?

The cold realisation had finally sunk in, the trust he once had for his immortal rulers shattered like a pane of glass in a battlefield.

He was lost.

Forsaken.

Abandoned.

‘Shhlinck,’

The sharpening of a sword cut through the solemn silence of his cave. His green fur lit only by the light of a few scattered torches.

‘Shhlinck,’

Around the cave, others had joined him in preparations. Fastening their old guardstallion armour, painted black to distinguish friend from foe.

‘Shhlinck,’

In a few hours they would be taking the first step. A minor raid of a military shipment traveling to a fortress on the borders of their once great nation.

‘Shhlinck,’

There wouldn’t be many of them coming, barely over a dozen in total, they would be relying on surprise more than anything else.

‘Shhlinck,’

“Mister Quill? There is somepony to see you.” A younger voice interrupted his brooding and staying his hoof.

“Who is it?” He asked back, raising from his seat and sheathing his wing-blades with a dramatic flourish.

“A miss Sharack,” the younger replied, uncertainty. The foreign name tripping his tongue and confusing his mind.

“Fine. Send her in.” Steel sighed with a roll of his eyes. Shuffling his wings in a slightly nervous anticipation.

“Of course.” The younger stallion replied in a feminine tone, his form burning away in a bright flash of green flame. The flesh burning to ash and blowing away on a non-existent wind as the once-stallion’s form grew and thinned.

Parts of the ash stuck to the creature’s chitinous form and blackened into a thick exoskeleton. As the flames rose to the mane and tail, they were stripped away as the green flames cooled into a fiery red that flowed in a nonexistent wind.

Finally, as the eyes melted into a mass of flying ash, a pair of sharp irus-less snake-like eyes. Their alien gaze piercing Steel like his namesake.

“What are you, a monster? A devil?” Steel demanded accusingly, drawing casting off his cloth sheaths with little care for their condition. “Or are you an assassin? Sent forth from the King of Demons?”

“No.” The feminine temptress replied, it's slender supermodel-like proportions slinking slightly to the side, pointedly ignoring the swords and blades drawn by the other ponies in the cave.

The other ponies looked to Steel, as if non-vocally asking for permission to attack the newcomer.

‘No… I shall not stoop to Celestia’s racism. Let’s hear what she has to say.’ Steel mentally sighed, shaking his head before turning to ‘Sharack’ once more. “Then speak what you had brought.”

“We seek to trade.” She replied bluntly, her eyes never leaving the stallion before her. “Information, for bodies.”

“Of what do you seek?” Steel asked, frustration building.

“We wish to know.” Sharack answered, her fangs flashing in the fire-light as she spoke. “Of this nation, and of your kind.”

“And why should we trust you?” Steel shot back, baring his teeth in mounting anger.

“You don’t have a choice.”

‘My Queen, the guests are being given basic equipment training as requested. It seems the princess and the flesh-droid have never wielded ranged weaponry before now.’ A drone buzzed in her mind, a concoction of cybernetics and genetic modification receiving the ‘transmission’ as effectively as if the drone was right next to her.

‘Good. Bring them to sector-three-four-seven as soon as they are able.’ Zethala commanded with barely a passing thought.

As she stood on the battlements of her hive of steel and chrome, she gazed over the small legion that was assigned to her sector. With only a pair of squads, one of her personal detachment and one of her ranged corps, manning the area.

Some stood before great cannons, others sharpened their weapons in grim determination. All while slight buzzes filled the air as they spoke in their voiceless tones.

A by-product of their perfected genetics to be sure. Efficiency having created a unnerving intimidation factor for any who stood against them.

On the horizon, the great metallic walls of her tower stood indifferent to the bloodshed to come. It’s surface glistening with black and red as the Skitarii legions flooded from their hiding places and prepared themselves in rank-and-file lines of computer-simulated efficiency.

The hostile forces stood a handful of kilometers away, well out of range of small-arms fire. Yet, as far as they were, Zethala didn’t need to see them to know how it looked.

Thousands of cybernetic ponies, made of metal more than the flesh they once had, backed by great siege walkers and abominations of metal and oil. The harsh static of their machine-language stinging the ears and draining morale as they prayed to their God of metal.

It would be a pyrrhic victory if they ever found one. She was outnumbered and outgunned, the only advantages she had would be the magical might of her soldiers.

She sighed, calculating any reason she could find for them to attempt such an action. To put such force behind an action that would only yield a simple flesh-droid.

‘My Queen, we have lost contact with India Tango, Delta, sixteen-twenty one. Their last known location was two sectors from you.’ Another drone notified, his words shortened and sharped from years of military-grade bio-radio operation. ‘Alpha Foxtrot, one-five has been dispatched for seek-and-destroy. Romeo Alpha Foxtrot, eleven-fifteen is on standby. Please advise.’

‘Deploy auxiliary forces to the affected sectors. Prepare the primary artillery pieces to fire on the Skitarii forces. Two barrages of Echo Mike Papa shells, then load the Hugo-class shells. Do not fire the third barrage until additional confirmation.’ The high queen replied, swinging her spear in cold indifference as she ran the numbers. ‘Power the main turrets and the heavy autoloader cannons. Activate the internal anti-personnel defences and launch the War CPUs.’

‘Confirmed.’

With the drone’s passing words, sections of the internal dome that made up her hive, split and revealed long cannons. Each covered in masses of pipes and wires, their very movement steaming the air as the cold internals of the hive rushed into the hotter outer air.

A few moments passed as Zethala scanned the horizon, each second ticking by at a snail’s pace for her bio-engineered senses. But, on the ten second mark, the sky was filled with arching artillery strikes.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Great vents of steam filled the air as the cannons’ explosive charges launched their payloads far into the sky.

She gripped her weapons harder as the shots closed upon their targets, her multiple millenia worth of logged combat hours still not breaking the tenseness that come with the first shots of a battle.

With great explosions of energy, the shells made contact. Thousands being felled as the electromagnetic pulses fried the Skitarii’s extensive cybernetics. Any troop beyond the standard foot soldier stood firm against the attack, their importance warranting more extensive protection than their robotic slaves.

With a sigh, Zethala watched as more ranks of foot soldiers broke from the wall to regain the losses. Even as another barrage came rushing for the troops, the indifferent legion began their endless trot to war.

In a way, it reminded her of the long-dead humans and their unmatched stubbornness when it came to anything that tried to stop them.

The sheer determination to fight till’ the last, even when their kin were cut down like cattle. Still they came, like a wave of bodies and blood.

It was a shame they broke when they did. It was always a challenge to fight them.

With great explosions, the ground just outside the Changeling fortress erupted as long drills spewed forth from the levels below. Destroying the metallic piping and cables that ran under Zethala’s hooves as they unleashed waves of skitarii from their hulls.

“OPEN FIRE!” One of her captains shouted to the gunnery crews, heralding the outbursts of autocannon fire as her troops followed the command wordlessly.

The hivemind was abuzz with chatter as messages were relayed through designated conduits, and with but a simple mental request, the messages waned and spat out the information Zethala required.

From the other sectors, similar attacks occurred, each with similar results.

Brass littered the ground as the High Queen waded through the mass of her subjects to the castle wall. Silently from behind her, her personal guard followed, their heads on a swivel as they scanned for any threats.

The battlefield was a mess, the corpses of skitarii littered the ground as the autocannons tore them apart. The drills fared better, as hull mounted weapons spewed fire and phosphor into her lines, some scoring kills, others just being caught by armour plates.

From the horizon, blasts of atomising energy tore into the walls, sundering what was once whole, and turning any caught in the beam into ash on the wind. Screams cut through the hivemind as her children died around her, the guilt having long since became a dull sensation weighing on her mind.

They wouldn’t breach the wall with what they had, but they could cull many as they tried.

‘Boom! Boom!’

A new sound echoed through the battlefield, barely audible over the gunfire and death. The sounds of great footsteps, slowing becoming louder as time wore on.

‘SCREEEEEEEEECH!’

With echoing and painful screech, a titanic walker tore through the metals of the wall like paper. On one arm, a great cannon with bullets larger than most changelings, on the other, a chainsaw longer than the wall is tall. Upon its back, a massive missile launcher turned to train its deadly payload to the fortress-castle.

Plooms of fire streaked across the sky as the warheads launched from the monster of metal. Followed afterward by the deafening booms of pony-sized ballistics being fired. The bullets wouldn’t make it to the wall, but the missiles landed with great explosions as emergency ion shields deployed and struggled to hold.

‘Fire the next barrage on the Imperial Knights! Zethala mentally barked, her mind going into overdrive as more screeches heralded additional knights joining the fray. ‘Continue to fire Hugo shells until those things are brought down! Open the Forbidden Armory and bring forth the Wolves!’

‘C-confirmed. Wolf unit “Talon” onroute to your position, H-high Queen.’ The bio-radio operator replied, attempting to keep his mental composure. Coughing and static replaced his voice before a final piece was said. ‘Rustsalkers have breached the command centre-Cough, Cough- it was a honor my Q-queen…’

“SHIT!” Zethala exclaimed as the connection was cut. “You! Get to the command centre! You! Get the poniesss here, now!”

From the wall Princeps Neolius lumbered forward, following the pair of knights that had came with him. His Castellan-pattern Knight armour dwarfing the smaller escort considerably as his titanic form strained the damaged floor beneath it.

Skitarii rushed out of his way as he surveyed the battlefield. His knight’s neural feeds spitting out data as he gazed across the fallen, the legion that had acted as a vanguard had already suffered great losses. With smaller artillery pieces having shattered some of the crab-like walkers, and the defensive wall having torn through any infantry caught out of cover.

Pathetic. I have waited years to fight these beasts, and this is what we get.

The Knight’s spirit commented, causing its pair of Siegebreaker Cannons to twitch in their housings on top of its hull.

‘Agreed. It is a shame they sent their armies away. Too much faith in treaties.’ Neolius replied, as he continued to command the knight forward.

As if it was his own, he lifted the Knight’s left arm to fire off a burning ray of red energy from his Volcano Lance. The laser impacting with the castle’s ion shields with a deafening snap of superheated air.

Following his example, the spirit followed up with launching the pair of shieldbreaker missiles nestled between its ‘shoulder blades.’ The missiles skipping in and out of existence as they traveled further than any infantry-mounted ballistics could.

With great explosions, the missiles skipped through the ion shield detonating on the battered walls. Sections of the wall fell before the explosion, with the ion shield flickering before following suit.

But, from the ashes, the bugs shot their retribution in the form of an artillery barrage.

Rotating ion shields… Brace for impact.

The shells landed hard on his personal defences, the great force and sudden stop causing the a great jolt as Neolius’ knight strained backwards.

Barrage neutralised. Ion shields at 37% and charging. Knight Paladin Eratus has been lost. Knight Crusader Drugal has been disabled. Repair crews are on route.

As the soot and ash cleared from his Knight’s cameras, Neolius looked out over the destroyed frame of one of his escorts, and the heavily damaged form of his other.

“Does Eratus live? Or has he fallen with his metal half?”

He has been slain. House Eternal Spear’s finest has fallen to these beasts.

“A sad day indeed. But we shall morne later, the siege is still afoot.” Neolius sighed as he commanded his knight to move forward once more.

The grim hours passed slowly as the siege waged on. The first wall had broken before his knight’s assault, and Neolius marched once more through the dense outer city of Zethala’s hive.

The other knight squads had broken through their sectors only a few hours after he had, some of the faster warhulls already having began their assault on the next bastion.

The Omnissiah will be pleased once we recover these beasts’ artifacts.

His knight commented, filling the daunting silence of the dying city.

“I only hope it was worth our honor.” Neolius replied grimmly, scanning the ruins with his breast mounted turrets. The miniature fusion launchers of the multi-meltas already emitting a low heat in preparation.

Bah, honor can be replaced and repaired. These bugs would have only grown stronger without our interference.

“We had lived with them for over five thousand years without incident. Was the peace worth that little?”

Weakness grows from idleness. Peace is just stagnation. This was inevitable, even if it a thousand years or so later than expected.

House Neolius will grow stronger with the deaths of these bugs. And our brothers in the Mechanicum shall surely reward us for our participation, after all, it has been many years since I have gotten some new armaments.

“Is the Volcano Lance not enough for you?” Neolius replied jokingly, “A lascannon bigger than a tank, still too small?”

It fires too slow for my tastes. I already have enough anti-armour, and I like the idea of a twin, or maybe even quad, auto-loading battle cannon.

With a roll of his flesh-side eyes, Neolius turned his gaze forward to his brothers-in-arms. Before long, they would be in sight of the inner wall, and the warpath would be amongst them once more.

‘ATTENTION BATTLE TEAM PRIMUS. WE HAVE LOST CONTACT BATTLE TEAM DELTA, APPROXIMATELY THREE BLOCKS AWAY FROM YOU. STAY ON GUARD, BATTLE TEAM DOMINUS SUSPECTS A MOST FOUL PLOY BY THE FOES OF THE OMNISSIAH. OVER.’

[transmitting]Affirmative. Over.[/transmitting]
A shame they put the cog-head from House Raven in charge. If we lead this battle, it would be over already.

The once shining chrome of the city burned and waned, the ugly scars of war still fresh, the enchanted flames still burned bright as Chitin weaved through the ruins.

It had been going well, the hostile forces had broken before the walls, and there were bodies apleantly to man the defences.

How foolish of her, when surrounded with her own kind, to let her guard fall so far. Zethala had been wounded by an invisible assassin just before the fall of the wall. Missiles trailed fire and filled the artificial sky, abominable machines of fire and steel walked through the defences like they were nothing.

Arcane had left her, having pulled back to the inner wall with Zethala, acting as a personal guard as everything went to shit.

Even Bravo had left, having taken a bullet meant for her as he fulfilled a duty falsified by her poison.

She was glad Arcane hadn’t seen that. She was glad he hadn’t seen her peel the dying body off of herself as she left the mind controlled drone behind. She was glad he hadn’t heard his dying screams for her as he was overrun by the cyborg footsoldiers.

Her heart felt heavy in her chest, though the raw emotion lacked its bite. Like a numb lava poured into her veins, leaving her only the sense of duty required to move on.

Following the shadows, she slunk into an intact balcony to watch her prey. Their thunderous steps moved ever onwards as the five titanic walkers scanned the buildings for hostiles.

‘Oh how seldom do ponies tend to look up. Even in war, they are blind.’

Each walker was easily well over ten times her height, with the single ‘commander’ in the middle being almost twice as tall as the other. They felt safe with their towering height, she was sure of this, but in the end, they would fall just as easily as the rest.

She silently leaped from her position, passing over the heads of the walkers ad she passed uneventfully through their defensive shielding. Her hair tingled as she passed through unnoticed, her horn glowing under an invisibility spell as she dampened her hoofsteps and shrouded her form.

With nought a sound, she drew her new weapons as she neared the commanding walker’s access hatch. Steeled resolve and surprise would save her, while instincts would bring this mission into fruition.

Standing a few meters away from the hatch, she cast another spell to give her extra grip before aiming her pistol.

Vvvvawah-BADOOM!

With an almighty discharge of plasma, the hatch melted and deformed before her. With another click of a button, great vents of heat gushed out of the weapon as she aimed the vents into the newly-made hole.

She was greeted with a scream as the titanic walker stumbled and began to fall. It’s diver melted.

The other walkers attempted to turn, but let loose no fire before she had connected sword-first into another. Her blade sung of death as she used it to dismember the walker’s weapons, limbs of steel fell to the ruins as the end of the walkers drew near.

Time passed at a snail’s pace as the other walkers poured fire and death into their fallen in an attempt to slay her.

But alas, it was for nought.

Five had entered, and as time passed, none would leave.

DOOF, DOOF, DOOF, DOOF, DOOF, DOOF!

WARNING!
Combat Stims exceeding recommended levels!

The faceless fell before him, in their pony-like forms that stunk of oil and stuffed with metal. Their emotionally null faces dying like swine as they clawed and spat fire in defiance.

His gun spat death and spoke lead as it launched high calibre rounds into the endless swarms of skitarii. His gaze saw red and his mind was clouded as his drug-induced rage was lain bare before his foes.

A cocktail of chemicals and simulants injected by a body given to him by those he now used it against. He was given a post, to guard the last wall they said, to protect the High Queen for as long as he could.

They said this long ago, before the long hours had passed. They said this like a father addressing a dying son, with a finality reserved only for the certainty of death. Like a fool he had followed the orders of the changelings, but, like a hero of old, he held the line.

Before the hours, there were more who stood with him. Guards and machines alike stood with him, and with each death another shot of chemicals kept him from running. Kept him from his pony-like nature.

Somewhere along the hours, he had broke. His mind retreated to escape the insanity-inducing death that he found himself spewing. And then the spirit took control. The spirit that lurked in the minds of all. The dark thought that tempted all ponies into acts unspeakable. To kill the innocent, to rape the untempted, to purge those against him.

DOOF, DOOF, DOOF, DOOF, DOOF, DOOF!

He waded through the blood and gore, the giblets of the damned stuck to his fur, matting and ruffling all that it could find. His legs passing through a thick soup of blood and oil, his tattered armour doing nothing to stop the gore.

“Do not ask which creature screams in the night! Do not question who waits for you in the shadows!” His maddened cries echoed to those who wouldn’t listen. “It is my cry that wakes you in the night! And my body that crouches in the shadows!”

“Die! Die! DIE!” He cried in time with his slowly pounding cannon, each word and blast punctuated by the metal skull of a skitarii caving in.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Author's Notes:

AN:
So… That was a productive chapter.
I hid an extra quote in there somewhere, so if you find it, good job! If you know who said it, better job!
Sorry about taking so long, everything is just mildly on fire at the moment.
ALSO! After the ENs, there is an outline of the Adeptus Mechanicus hierarchy for those who are interested. It’s not the same as the one in Warhammer 40,000, as I’ve added/removed/moved things around into something I’ll be using. So… enjoy?

[err. EN machine broke]
-----
Hierarchy:
???
???
???
Omnissiah’s Chosen
Fabricator-General
Fabricator-Locum
Magos Prime
Arch-Magos
Magos Delta
Magos
Logis Prime
Logis Delta
Arch-Logis
Logis
Tech-Priest Dominus
Collegia Titanicus Princeps
Techseer Prime
Arch-Techseer
Techseer
Arch-Genetor
Genetor
Artisan
Electro-Priest
Enginseer
Transmechanic
Lexmechanic
High Runepriest
Runepriest
High Priest
Moderati
Sensori
Steersmen
Priest
Skitarii
Menials / Servitors