The smell of fire, and the acrid burnt smell of combat filled the air. The smooth fluid motions of the Eldar fighting starkly contrasting with the choppy way the PDF did battle. Shuriken rounds streamed across the battlefield tearing into cover, and cutting down the occasional soldier. Only a few Eldar in comparison lay on the ground dead mostly due to heavy weapons of the PDF that had already been neutralized. The idea that victory was close at hand was short lived though, as the pods carrying the Human’s Space Marines hurtled through the sky towards the ground. Lances of powerful energy were now filling the sky as well ionizing the air around each streak of energy, several of them crashing into pods and cutting deep gouges in the steel, but not doing much more than that for the most part. Except for one, a single pod suddenly veered sharply off course a thruster having been struck by a blast of energy. The pod spiraled and twisted in the air crashing far off into Eldar held territory. 

Standing atop the building that the Eldar were considering their forward base of operations was Exarch Faebala, her eyes closing into a half lidded stare at the drop pods streaming down from the sky. Communications within the helmets of all Eldar soldiers in the immediate vicinity sounded off with Faebala’s voice. “Fall back to the battle line. Hold that position let not the Monkeigh take any ground.” Turn she grabbed a small globe, with an easy movement it was tossed into the air and exploded into brilliant light. At the same time though the drop pods had crashed into the ground, Eldar soldiers were pulling back to their front line, feet carrying them swiftly in groups of five or more. One group running, while the other gave covering fire.

For a moment it seemed as if the Space Marines were going to crash into their lines, she knew the Guardians, and Dire Avengers would be no match in a melee with such brutes. It was then that a saving grace arrived a bright lance of energy cut through the ground at the advancing Astartes line, followed by an another. Thirteen elder lay dead from bolter fire though, and Faebala felt anger in her heart that took all her strength to contain. Two Fire Prisms hovered closer to the front line letting out relentless barrages of lance fire, and shuriken cannon fire at the Imperial Forces. Then another boon showed itself as the face of a building exploded into chunks of metal, and broken ferrocrete, the massive form of a Wraithlord stepping forward, both arms coming up and spewing streams of flames outwards at the advancing force, as well as a quick missile salvo that obliterated an empty drop pod. “We may just win this day yet.” Faebala muttered to herself before speaking openly to the forces currently in combat. “Hold your positions. Do not advance. Give them no openings.”

[hr]

The twisting, damaged pod was watched closely by Ashesho from the top of her tower, her head turning slightly. “Send a squad of Windriders to intercept. Kill them if necessary, harass them back to their own territory if possible. I care not for their lives, but I see no reason to lose our own people in open combat with the Monkeigh.”

[hr]

Blurs of black and gold toes across the planes towards the soon to be crash site of the damaged drop pod, seven Wind Riders with their warlock leader barreling in to neutralize the enemy Space Marines by whatever means necessary. The plumes of smoke growing closer by the moment, their faith in themselves implacable as their eyes set firmly on their target that was now easily within firing distance.