Forge Era, Year Eighteen. Ashreach's plains smoked—Tau steel grinding against Elephant resolve. The Tau had it mapped out—studied the Elephant Fleet's clunky moves from the orc war, pegged them as pushovers. "These Steelborn aren't the terrors we thought," a Fire Clan officer sneered, voice dripping with scorn. "Ships a hair better than ours—ground gear's a joke." In power armor, pulse carbines crackling, one Fire Clan trooper outmatched a handful of Elephants. Tech trumped muscle.
The Elephants held their trenches, dirt and blood streaking their rigs. "Filthy Tau snakes!" a Black Crest sergeant bellowed, fury shaking his frame as he slammed a mag home. "We won't break—not for them!" A grunt beside him gripped his post, eyes blazing. "Hold 'til Jarek's hammer drops—we're steel too!" They fought with teeth bared—no retreat, no mercy. Jarek had yanked them from Pale Crest's gutter, beheaded their old gods, made them equals. They weren't just fodder now—they were Steelborn in soul. The Tau's lie—stolen kids—hit like a gut punch. "We bled beside 'em against orcs," the sergeant snarled. "Half our kin died—and they smear us?" Rage drove their guns.
Jarek's words burned in their minds, broadcast from Crestspire: "We don't bow—not for truth, not for their garbage." The sergeant's grip tightened, a fierce grin breaking through grime. "He's got our backs—we're his." Loyalty wasn't chains; it was fire. But the Tau rolled over them—artillery roared, Fire Clan advanced, Vexar slashed in close. "Stubborn bastards!" a Tau commander snapped, voice cutting over comms. "Shell 'em, shoot 'em, Vexar carve 'em—three days, this rock's ours!"
The sky cracked—Tau ships reeled as a thousand Steelborn vessels blazed out of warp, sleek and lethal. "Enemy strike!" a Tau tech yelped, voice spiking. "A thousand ships—we've got this!" The commander smirked, leaning in. "Finally biting back—let's squash 'em." The smirk died fast. "Wrong!" the tech screamed. "These aren't their rust-buckets!" Pale Crest relics had been tough—but these Living Steel killers? Tau hulls shredded like paper. "Mosquitoes in tar," a Steelborn captain growled, voice icy with glee, as cannons ripped through.
Minutes ticked—a second fleet, another thousand, hit from the side. "More ships!" a Tau officer cried, voice cracking. "New designs—unknown!" The commander's face drained. "Where'd they pull these?!" Then a third fleet—another thousand—closed the trap. "Third wave—more strangers!" the tech wailed, panic breaking him. "They played us!" Commander Yu Tau slammed the console, voice a ragged howl. "Those wrecks were bait—these are their teeth!" Tech wasn't close—it was a canyon. Tau ships burned, outmatched.
"Warn Lao Jun!" Yu Tau roared, desperation clawing his words. "Break out—spread it!" He split his fleet—half charging the Steelborn wall, half diving for Ashreach. "Rush 'em!" he bellowed. "Land, fortify—hold this dirt!" A Vox Clan officer—silver-tongued master of Tau's five clans—stepped up, voice soaring. "For the Empire, for honor, for Lao Jun—charge! Land! Fight!" Morale surged, Tau crews roaring back. "Crush this Steelborn rot!" a Fire Clan grunt yelled, carbine blazing. Their ground push doubled, fierce and wild.
The Elephants buckled—bodies piled, lines splintering under Tau drones and Vexar claws. "Hold, damn it!" the sergeant roared, blood streaking as he fired. "For Jarek—for us!" But Tau smelled blood, their base rising amid Ashreach's rubble. Then the sky split—Steelborn pods crashed down, Ribs landing like thunder. Living Steel gleamed, phase rifles sang, and Tau's edge dissolved. "Wipe 'em," a Rib captain rasped, voice a steel blade, as his squad cut through.
Jarek watched from Crestspire, holo-maps glowing. "Thought they had us," he rasped, a dark laugh rumbling. "Now they choke." Namu's 10 billion fueled his fleets, phase tech sharpened his claws—Tau pride was their coffin. Absolute Loyalty buzzed. "Tau's drowning," a player cackled. "Steelborn's feast." Jarek's optics flared. "Let 'em shatter," he growled. "Steel doesn't bend."