Forge Era, Year Eighteen. Ashreach's battlefield smoked, a graveyard of Tau pride. Tau-kun—flat-faced, furious—stared at the carnage where Steelborn Scourgers had torn his lines to shreds. XV mechs lay in heaps, nano-steel husks smashed beyond recognition, their pilots' blood staining the dirt. "Retreat!" he barked, voice cracking with dread. "Back—now!" Rear lines held makeshift forts—trenches and turrets the Tau prayed could hold these metal lunatics. They didn't know the Scourgers lived for this—humanity stripped away, bodies warped into tripods and grav-coils, all for Jarek's empire. Their sacrifice wasn't loss; it was steel's glory.
The tug-of-war on Vortex Verge—Ashreach's brutal edge—was a splinter of the war's chaos. Tau troops, fleeing their fleet's slaughter above, stumbled from one hell into another. "Damn these Steelborn liars!" a Fire Clan grunt spat, voice trembling as he reloaded his pulse carbine. "Where'd these skeleton freaks come from?" Six years ago, the Elephants faced Steelborn—ruthless, but human-shaped. Now, Scourgers were nightmares—gauss cannons blazing green death. Even the Elephants, hardened by that old war, froze at the sight. "If we'd met these back then," one muttered, voice low, "we'd have broken." But now? Allies. Their blood boiled—Tau had butchered their brothers. "Push 'em back!" an Elephant sergeant roared, rifle blazing. "For our dead—for Jarek!"
Above, 3,000 Tau ships burned—Steelborn fleets ambushing their escape. Jarek's ships—Living Steel predators—outclassed them, traps snapping shut on every route. "Cowards!" a Tau captain raged, voice thick with bile as his frigate shuddered. "No honor—just ambushes!" Thick-skinned irony—they'd fled first. All 3,000 fell, husks drifting. "Keep some intact," Jarek rasped from Crestspire, optics glinting. "Let the Ribs pick their bones." Scientists would scoff—Tau tech was child's play—but intel mattered.
On Vortex Verge, 30 million Tau clung to life, their stronghold crumbling. Once tasked to seize it, they now faced Steelborn regulars—Ribs and Scourgers turning the dirt into a butcher's yard. Captured Tau glared at Jarek, their Earth Clan eyes blazing hate, no Water Clan guile to mask it. "You Steelborn filth!" one snarled, voice venomous. "We'll crush you!" Hard words—until a Scourger loomed, its tripod legs thudding, gauss cannon glowing. His bravado shattered, face paling. "You can't kill prisoners!" he stammered, voice a plea. Jarek's steel lips curled. "No rules say that," he growled. "You tore up peace—now taste the cost." Ribs dragged him off—interrogation tools humming, ready to crack him open.
Far off, the Tau's Eastern Strike Command buzzed with unease. A month—no word from their vanguard. "An accident?" Lao Jun mused, voice tight. "Three thousand ships—lost?" Aides scoffed. "Impossible—their empire's too small!" Warp glitches, maybe—unstable rifts swallowing signals. "No more waiting," Lao Jun snapped, slamming his fist. "Three years—we take them in three years. Full force—now!" The Tau war machine roared to life, a vow to shatter Steelborn echoing across the void.