Lileath possessed almost no capacity for command or administrative leadership. This was to be expected; had she been otherwise, she would not have sown such chaotic folly during the era of the Aeldari Pantheon.
However, as if to compensate for her failings, her warp-essence compelled an unconditional adoration from all Aeldari. On the world of Urarchia, these treacherous Drukhari found themselves united for the first time in their long, spiteful history. No matter how many schemes they harbored, the moment they laid eyes upon Lileath, they were overcome by an instinctive, infectious worship.
"Come then, let this be the inception. The Aeldari Empire shall be reborn by our hands, and the order of the galaxy restored."
Lileath stood atop the head of a Aeldari Titan, her voice ringing out like silver bells. She wore a custom-forged suit of wraithbone bodyshell armor, reminiscent of a dancer's leotard, etched with countless ancient runes and golden filigree that appeared more like fine art than protection. In her hand, she gripped a willow-leaf power spear shimmering with azure energy.
"For Isha! For the Eldest Daughter, Lileath!"
"Wot are dem panzees hollerin' about? Wot's a 'Lil-eth' anyway? Does she owe 'em some teef?"
In the wilderness surrounding the Aeldari-occupied human cities, Orks from a nearby scrap-camp were busy fixing trukkz and looting junk. Hearing the Aeldari war cries, the Boyz began grumbling and cursing.
"Dunno. Looks to me like dem panzees are too chicken to come out and race uz!"
Hundreds of Speed Freaks, mounted on warbikes so heavily customized they looked like a child had doodled every "cool" element imaginable onto a single vehicle, jeered and roared in derision.
Suddenly, the fortress gates groaned open. Countless Raiders and Ravagers surged forth like unsheathed blades.
"Oi! Da panzees are actually comin'!"
"WAAAGH! Kill 'em all!!"
The Speed Freaks erupted in laughter. Far from fearing the Drukhari assault, they were exhilarated by the sight of the jagged, weapon-laden anti-grav skimmers.
"Listen up, ladz! Time for a death-race wiv da panzees!!"
"WAAAGH!!"
The Speed Freaks didn't even bother returning fire at first. Instead, they slammed their throttles open. Engines erupted in a series of backfiring explosions as makeshift rocket boosters flared with blinding exhaust.
Splinter fire from Kabalite Warriors and the heavy splinter cannons of the Raiders began picking off the Orks like hunters shooting rabbits. One by one, the lead Orks were transformed into tumbling fireballs. Yet, the Greenskins were not deterred; seeing their comrades blown to bits only provoked roars of laughter.
"Hahaha! Ya weak git! Got nicked by a pansy—aaaugh!!"
The Drukhari were unsurprised by this behavior. They knew these Orks lived for the thrill of the chase, especially when challenged by the speed of Aeldari skimmers. But this time, the Drukhari were not merely playing at hit-and-run. Once the Raiders had herded the Orks away from the city outskirts, the Kabalite Warriors began to deploy in force.
Dark lances and splinter fire tore the Orks' scrap-tents into sieves. Greenskins and Gretchin who were too slow to flee had their heads burst before they could even raise a choppa. Wyches leaped into the fray, dancing through mobs of Slugga Boyz. Their whip-like agonizers moved with fluid grace, carving through green flesh. Once, they fought for glory and the perfection of their craft; now, such things were trivial compared to the glory of Lileath.
"Cull this filth. Do not let these beasts sully the Firstborn's sight!"
"As you command, Archon!"
Only after the camp had been thoroughly purged did Lileath descend, as her Titan knelt in supplication. Every Aeldari present gazed upon her with an expression of rapturous devotion, particularly the three Kabalite Archons, who looked on with an uncharacteristic, almost innocent yearning for a single word of praise.
"Mm-hmm~ Good children~"
Lileath did not disappoint. As she raised her hand, the three Archons began to glare at one another, nearly coming to blows for the honor of being the first to touch the Eldest Daughter.
"Hehe~ No need to rush. All Aeldari are my brothers and sisters. I shall watch over all of you, but only the most valiant shall receive my blessing."
Such childish words triggered a wave of frenzied cheering among the Drukhari.
"Lileath, become my dream!"
"Look upon me, O Firstborn!"
The fanatical roar of the Aeldari echoed across the plains and soon reached the Orks' ramshackle scrap-cities. The resident Warbosses reacted with varying degrees of excitement.
"Wot's dat? Da panzees are actually pushin' out? I was dyin' of boredom! Ladz, get stuck in!"
A Warboss over four meters tall, looking as though he had been fused with a steamroller, led the charge. His hydraulic power klaw, large enough to crush a car, snapped open and shut, sending showers of sparks flying with every metallic clang.
Outside, the air was already thick with gunfire. The city walls, a haphazard mess of scrap metal and concrete, resembled a junkyard more than a fortification. Thousands of Shoota Boyz and Slugga Boyz perched atop mountains of refuse, unleashing a chaotic hail of large-caliber solid slugs from their wildly varying weapons.
Spent shells fell like rain. Amidst the deafening thunder of gunfire, mobs of Orks surged forward in a disorganized green tide.
However, even the most fanatical Aeldari were not foolish enough to meet the Orks in a head-on grind. Dozens of Talos Pain Engines and various grotesques, mutilated and remade by the Haemonculi, formed a brutal vanguard. Behind this wall of meat and machine, the true strike force of Wyches, Incubi, Kabalite Warriors, Howling Banshees, and Dire Avengers moved with preternatural speed to outflank the Orks.
Predictably, the Greenskins, driven by the philosophy that "bigger is better," crowded toward the center to smash against the hulking Pain Engines. To an Ork, anything with mutated limbs, massive muscles, and bizarre weaponry was a worthy foe. Consequently, the smaller Boyz and Gretchin were pushed to the periphery.
Watching this, an ancient Aeldari commander from the era of the old Empire sneered. "These Orks remain as predictable as ever." He had fought these brutes for millennia during the ancient wars; he knew their nature perfectly.
The collision between the Ork mob and the twisted creations of the Haemonculi Covens was exceptionally bloody. Heavy slugs tore into the fused muscle and metal of the Pain Engines, resulting in a horrific spray of gore and shrapnel.
As the battle intensified, more Orks were drawn into the meat-grinder at the center. Meanwhile, the Aeldari mobile forces on the flanks systematically crushed the Ork Speed Freaks and Deffkoptas before beginning to envelop the main mob.
Soon, the Greenskin tribe was surrounded on all sides by the sounds of slaughter.
"Boss! Boss! Da panzees... dey've got uz surrounded!"
The Warboss's two pet Gretchin peered through battered binoculars and shrieked in terror, tugging at the Boss's side as he butchered his way through the enemy.
"Zog off! We ain't surrounded, we're just attackin' in every direction at once! Come on then, ya panzees!!"
The Warboss crushed a Pain Engine with one klaw and shredded a line of Wracks with a burst from his big shoota, letting out a guttural, triumphant roar. Inspired by their leader, the Orks' fear vanished, replaced by a deafening, collective war cry:
"WAAAGH!!!"
"I shall go and slay it, Eldest Daughter," one Archon said, his voice dripping with adoration. But Lileath stayed him with a delicate hand.
"No. I should be the one to set the example."
"But…"
Before the Archon could protest, Lileath vanished. She reappeared instantly, standing directly before the Warboss.
The Archon watched her, standing as elegant as a swan before the towering brute, and felt a sudden, sharp pang of jealousy toward the Ork. How does this stupid, foul beast deserve to stand in the presence of the Eldest Daughter?
"A girl-panzee?"
The Warboss stared down at the Aeldari female. She looked less like a warrior and more like a princess from a fairy tale once described to him by a captive human scribe. He grunted in confusion.
Lileath smiled. Her willow-leaf power spear moved with the grace of a balletic strike, bypassing the massive power klaw and the heavy scrap-armor. With a flick as light as a dragonfly skimming water, she thrust the blade in and wrenched it back out, hooking the Warboss's massive, still-beating heart and pulling it clean from his chest.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
The heart pulsed violently. The Warboss froze, a moment of delayed agony washing over him as his vision blurred. Then, the mountain of green muscle crashed heavily into the dirt.
Lileath looked at the foul, oversized organ on her spear with a hint of distaste. With a casual flick, she tossed it aside and offered the collapsing Ork army a performer's parting curtsy.
In an instant, the Orks' morale shattered into terror. The Aeldari erupted in a jubilant roar.
"Da Boss got kilt by a girl-panzee!!"
"For the Eldest Daughter!"
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