[You piloted your Eldar jet bike, bursting out of the hidden exit of the underground warehouse like a streak of metallic lightning.]
[The anti-grav engines screamed as you exploded through the concealed opening. Acceleration pressed you back against the bike's seat, G-forces fighting against your armor's compensators.]
[The concrete camouflage wall you smashed through, mixed with grains of fine yellow sand in the air, continued to strike your ceramite armor, producing a series of crisp, clanging sounds.]
[At the same time, two roaring APCs followed behind you, suddenly bursting out of the underground passage.]
[The APCs emerged like metal beasts birthed from stone. Their engines roared, exhaust fumes billowing black and acrid into the desert air. Tracks bit into sand and rock, throwing up massive rooster tails of debris. The sailors clinging to their hulls whooped and hollered, adrenaline overriding fear.]
[You skillfully maneuvered the Eldar jet bike, hovering it in mid-air.]
[You immediately look in the direction from which the noise is coming.]
[Just kilometers away, deep within the trading market, countless human merchants and alien races were frantically fleeing between buildings.]
[At this moment, it seemed as if all conflicts and rifts between any races had vanished.]
[Their sole objective is to unite in resisting the terrifying attacks of the Rangda and to maximize their chances of escape.]
[A group of green-skinned orcs, howling and wielding massive cleavers and spears, stood before the humans and other alien races.]
[They fearlessly launched a fierce counterattack against the army of alien slaves of different races who were forcibly controlled by the Rangda aliens.]
[The orks crashed into the oncoming horde with gleeful brutality. Cleavers rose and fell, each swing severing limbs and heads. Spears punched through torsos. Blood sprayed in arterial fountains, painting the sand dark and wet.]
[The alien slaves came on in silence, no battle cries, no fear responses. Just relentless forward motion, driven by will that wasn't their own.]
[Behind the green-skinned orcs were human traveling merchants with ugly, even distorted, expressions.]
[Terror had twisted their faces into grotesque masks. Eyes too wide, mouths stretched in rictus grins of pure fear. Some were crying, tears cutting tracks through dust-caked cheeks. But they stood their ground, weapons raised.]
[They led their bodyguards and guards in a fighting retreat, trying to fill the gaps in the green-skinned orcs' lines with their laser weapons.]
[Las-bolts cracked through the air, red beams punching into the slave horde. Each shot created a small flash of vaporized flesh, the smell of cooked meat drifting on the wind. The humans coordinated their fire, covering the spaces where ork lines grew thin.]
[Within the human ranks, a group of short, black-cloaked Stryxis, while letting out piercing screams of terror, raised their sizable aether weapons and began bombarding the Rangda slaves with energy projectiles.]
[The Stryxis' screams were almost ultrasonic, painful to hear. But their aim was true. Aether weapons discharged with strange whooshing sounds, projectiles of condensed energy splashing against targets. Where they hit, reality seemed to fray slightly, flesh unraveling in ways that defied normal physics.]
[As for those alien races whose names you can't even recall, they either rely on their innate abilities to become invisible and escape.]
[Shimmering distortions marked where certain xenos activated cloaking fields or natural camouflage. They faded from view like ghosts, only the displacement of air and sand marking their passage.]
[Or perhaps they relied on their superior physical abilities to forcibly create a hasty escape route for the entire combined force's retreat.]
[Others used strength. Massive creatures, their species unknown to you, smashed through buildings and obstacles. They carved paths through rubble, their bodies absorbing punishment that would kill lesser beings. The retreat funneled through these gaps, organized chaos sustained by desperate cooperation.]
[You subconsciously shifted your gaze to the burning starport where countless ships were constantly falling.]
[At this moment, the scattered metal fragments, falling like petals from a celestial maiden, possessed a unique, destructive beauty.]
[The debris caught the light as it fell, glinting and sparkling against the smoke-filled sky. Beautiful and terrible at once, a deadly shower that would kill anyone caught beneath it. Fragments the size of buildings plummeted alongside shards no larger than fists, all equally lethal.]
[You couldn't help but widen your eyes.]
[Your breath caught. Among the falling wreckage, you recognized a familiar silhouette. No. Please, no.]
[You clearly witnessed the horrific scene of your armed cargo ship being utterly destroyed by wave after wave of Rangda warships.]
[The ship that had been your home for weeks died before your eyes. Black lightning arced from a Rangda vessel, striking the cargo ship amidships. The hull ruptured, atmosphere venting in massive geysers. Then more lightning, each strike opening new wounds. The ship broke apart, spinning fragments scattering across kilometers of space before beginning their terminal descent.]
[You clenched your teeth tightly.]
[You didn't have time to mourn the deaths of the witty old navigator and his trusted sailor 'Old Bones,' among others.]
["Big Head! Lead the APCs and get away from here as quickly as possible! See if you can escape this planet before the Rangda launch attacks on other places!"]
[You squinted and took a deep breath of the earthy air.]
[You shouted loudly at the APC without turning your head.]
["Hey! Captain! What are you planning to do? Let's run! We can still make it!"]
[The terrified screams of Big Head, a trusted sailor, clearly reached your ears.]
[You expressionlessly maneuvered the Eldar jet bike and turned it around.]
[You also gripped the Phobos-pattern bolter tightly in your palm.]
["I am no coward!" you declare]
[bones, certainty flooding through consciousness that had been fragmented and uncertain.]
["Big Head! I order you to leave immediately! This is my war! There's no escaping it!"]
[You roared loudly in a low voice.]
[The contradiction in volume and pitch didn't matter. Fury and determination merged into pure command presence that brooked no argument.]
[The next second, without hesitation, you piloted your Eldar jet bike, hovering in mid-air, and charged towards the front where the fierce battle was taking place.]
[The bike shot forward like a missile. Wind screamed past your armor, tearing at the edges of your profile. Distance collapsed before you.]
[A distance of several kilometers was covered in an instant by the speed of the Eldar jet bike.]
[At this very moment, under the bewildered and terrified gazes of the human merchants and other alien races, and amidst the rising and falling battle roars of the green-skinned orcs.]
[You suddenly raised the Phobos-pattern bolter in your palm and pulled the trigger with unparalleled precision towards the rows of Rangda alien below!]
[In an instant, many unknown alien slaves were torn to pieces by the explosive flash of the bolters.]
[Bodies exploded. The mass-reactive shells penetrated flesh before detonating, blowing torsos apart from the inside. Limbs separated from bodies. Heads vanished in pink mist. The slave formations dissolved into carnage.]
[Splattering streams of warm, foul-smelling blood landed on the wounded green-skinned orcs.]
["Huh? A big shot among little shrimps?" A green-skinned orc with only one eye muttered, baring his teeth.]
[It swung the large cleaver in its palm with great force, easily severing the flattened heads of the alien slaves one by one.]
[Just then, you hovered the Eldar jet bike above the orcish column again.]
[You tore a string of frag grenades from the ceramite armor and casually tossed them at the green-skinned orcs below.]
["Big Bomb!" you whispered, your eyes wide.]
["Liars are all liars! This is clearly a small bomb!" A green-skinned orc caught a string of frag grenades, skillfully removed the rings, and threw it behind the alien slave.]
[The other green-skinned orcs who received frag grenades immediately activated them, launching a continuous manual bombardment of the alien slaves ahead.]
[In an instant, the densely packed Rangda slaves were completely engulfed by the flames of countless explosions, temporarily creating a breathing space for the entire allied force to escape.]
[Detonations rippled across the battlefield. Fire bloomed in overlapping spheres. Shrapnel scythed through packed bodies. The slave advance staggered, then stopped, the front ranks simply ceasing to exist.]
[Smoke billowed. The allied forces used the momentary reprieve to gain distance, their retreat accelerating.
[However, at this moment, they were behind the ranks of Rangda's slaves.]
[A terrifying figure emerged from the shadows of a Rangda, the 'Brain Eater,' standing approximately 2.89 meters tall, clad in heavy armor covered in black spikes, with its exposed head resembling an octopus.]
[The creature stepped into view, and the psychic pressure doubled. Its height nearly matched your own. Black spiked armor covered most of its form, each spike cruelly barbed. But the head...]
[The head defied sanity. Tentacles writhed where a face should be, each one lined with smaller tendrils. The flesh was pale, almost translucent, revealing darker structures beneath. Its eyes, if they were eyes, gleamed with alien intelligence and malevolence.]
[It swiftly raised a tentacle-like hand encased in spiked armor and waved it gently.]
[The gesture was almost delicate, almost casual. A conductor leading an orchestra. The psychic weight intensified, became almost crushing.]
[As the invisible psionic energy continued to dissipate, the alien slaves who had just been killed by shrapnel from the explosion or by weapons and ammunition gradually rose from the blood-soaked sand, coming back to life.]
[Bodies twitched. Corpses that should have stayed dead jerked upright. Ruined flesh knitted together, not healing but reanimating. The dead stood, empty eyes fixing forward, and resumed their march.]
[Necromancy on an industrial scale.]
[You immediately raised the bolter in your palm and launched a continuous and fierce barrage at the real Rangda alien.]
[Your finger squeezed the trigger, holding it down. The bolter roared on full automatic, spitting mass-reactive death at the Brain Eater.]
[At the same time, the green-skinned orcs bared their teeth and unleashed a barrage of fire on the enemy with their large pistols.]
[The next second, a pale green energy barrier suddenly appeared in front of the Rangda alien's body, forcefully blocking any attacks from you.]
[You glanced at the retreat distance of the allied forces, then at the green-skinned orcs beginning to suffer casualties.]
[You took a deep breath.]
[You casually tossed aside your depleted bolter, drew two xenos-shaped short spears from your waistband, and quickly assembled them into a double-headed spear.]
[You suddenly raised the double-headed spear in your palm, pointing it at the Rangda whose gaze seemed to be fixed on you.]
["Greenskins! Decapitation strike!" You leaned forward slightly and shouted at the green-skinned orcs below.]
["Big guy, you little shrimp! Remember to chop off your head!"]
[At this moment, the wounded green-skinned orcs gripped the crude weapons in their palms.]
[They fearlessly opened their gaping maws and unleashed a deafening battle roar that echoed throughout the surrounding area.]
["WAAAAGH!"]
Author Note:
I described the specific appearance of Rangda's form based on the appearance of the Mind Flayer.
Because there is indeed no more information.
With its detailed descriptions of the worm-like aliens, the Slaugh seem more like the masterminds behind the Rangda.
When I have the chance to write about a large-scale interstellar conflict between various races in the future, I'll write about the story of the Greenskins joining forces with the Astartes; it seems like a very interesting topic.