The Black Jackal and the Pack
Sergeant Tertius sought refuge behind the hulk of a Leman Russ battle tank, destroyed in battle centuries ago, as a gunboat variant of the Eldars' light skimmer transport spewed gelatinous, glowing black death from its three deck-mounted guns at his squad. Brothers Cassius and Septimus quickly dissolved into ash when the substance splashed onto their gleaming power armor, replacing their Ultramarines colors with that of rotting flesh in mere seconds. "Return fire!" Tertius ordered, but before Brother Brutus could get a bead with his lascannon, the skimmer had already disappeared, no doubt hunting for other targets.
"Sergeant!" Brother Argus shouted, "I see something!" Tertius looked in the direction Argus was pointing and saw six figures in black advancing in their direction, too heavily armored for Eldar raiders. One of them, which he assumed was their leader, pointed a device that resembled a grenade launcher in their direction. "Take him down!" Tertius bellowed, "Do not let him fire!" but it was too late. A spherical object shot out of the tube and airbursted over his squad, but didn't seem to have any effect.
Then, his superhuman senses noticed that everything had suddenly gone quiet. Not silent, Tertius noted, but certainly reduced to almost imperceptible. He watched his squad pour shot after shot into the advancing foe, but it seemed to have no effect as they advanced implacably forward. If he were anything but a Space Marine, he would have been terrified at the sight of these Eldar completely ignoring the torrent of fire being hurled at them. He suddenly felt intense pain in his right elbow, and everything returned to normal, except that the Eldar seemed to have teleported from their previous position to suddenly being on top of them, slaughtering his battle brothers with little resistance.
He felt another sharp, stabbing pain, this time in the back of his left knee. Tertius whirled around, ready to kill his adversary in one decisive stroke, only to find himself swinging at air. Then his other knee went, and he collapsed to a kneeling position, unable to stand due to his wounds. "You're too slow, Mon-Keigh," he heard a voice say from behind him, "I've fought Orks that were a greater challenge than you were."
"Who are you?" Tertius demanded, "Show yourself!"
"We only come out into the open when we're ready to kill," the voice continued, "Jackals are scavengers, we're not the sort to fight fairly."
"This jackal must feed."
Composition: Archon with Agonizer, Splinter Pistol, Shadow Field, Combat Drugs, Plasma Grenades, Terrorfex; 4 Incubi with Punishers, Tormentor Helms, Plasma Grenades; 1 Incubus with Punisher, Tormentor Helm, Plasma Grenades, Blaster
Function: Slaughter HQ units in melee
My intent with this unit is to provide a counter-assault element to my Warrior Squads and protect them from enemy assault units until the Webway Portals are deployed, then send them off to go headhunting, killing off deathstar units and enemy HQs. I'll have to get a few games under my belt before this happens, but I think it'll work.
The White Dominatrix and the White Scars
She swiftly beheaded another Wych in a spray of crimson, then leapt to the side as another clumsily swung downwards in an attempt to cleave her in two. This one, she guessed from her opponent's equipment, was the opposing team's Succubus. This one will prove to be a worthy opponent, she thought to herself as she circled around him. She stabbed at him with her glaive, only to see him dodge with practiced Eldar grace, and then whirled around on her heel and struck a Wych closing in from behind with the haft of her weapon. She swung the blade around in a sweeping arc and took one of the Wych's legs off at the knee, the disruption field covering the blade slicing through her armor, flesh and bone with contemptuous ease. She then stabbed upwards into the female's torso from beneath the sternum and drove the blade all the way through her clavicle. Bringing the dying Eldar closer to her level, she grasped her opponent's throat with her gauntleted left hand and let the wrist tendrils do their work. The impaled female spasmed for a second, and she felt invigorated as the gauntlet drained her opponent's life force away, adding it to her own.
When the Wych's life force was gone, she ripped the bloody tendrils out from her opponent's corpse, causing a great deal of blood to spray out from the open wound onto her flesh and armor. This contrast is still pleasing, she thought as she wrenched her glaive out of her vanquished foe's ribcage, spattering her gleaming white armor with more crimson, and then turned to face the Succubus, the last surviving member of the opposing team, as he dispatched another from her team with a brutal thrust to the neck. Before his latest victim fell to the ground with the rest of the bodies, however, she leapt at him from above, aiming a killing strike at his bare chest, but he deftly stepped to the side as she fell, forcing her to correct her swing in mid-stroke, shearing off one of his feet as she set foot on the ground again. Circling around him from behind, she made small, precise and strategic cuts along his body, severing tendons and nerves with impunity.
However, she underestimated his skill and just barely managed to dodge a swing of his sword, missing her exposed breasts by a hair and cutting a long, deep gash into her corset before she whirled around and sliced off his sword arm with one swift, clean stroke. Hearing the crowd's cheering, she turned to face the royalty box and shouted, "My lord, his life is in your hands!" The Eldar she addressed, clad in the black, plated armor typical of the inhabitants of Commorragh, extended his fist with the thumb sticking out, pointing downwards.
Turning back to her terrified, helpless victim, she smiled an evil, sadistic smile before cleaving him in two. "The score is six to nine," the announcer declared, "The White Scars win against the Death Legion!" Cheering erupted from the spectators as slaves entered the arena to clear away the bodies. Her personal slave, a female human clad in nothing but a tight-fitting net garment, dutifully took her mistress' glaive from her hands and began cleaning the blood, sweat and grime from her flesh. She looked up at the royalty box one last time, and saw the Archon stand and beckon to her with a mailed fist.
Understanding what was required of her, the Dracite known as the "White Dominatrix" turned back to the arena. "Make sure that my armor is spotless and my corset repaired," she ordered her slave, who at this time was wiping filth from her mistress' lean, toned thighs, "I have an appointment with the Jackal, and I do not want to keep my lord waiting." The slave dutifully nodded as she finished with her mistress' skin and followed the Dominatrix to her chambers to prepare her for her night of ecstasy with her master...
Composition: Dracite with Punisher, Tormentor Helm, Animus Vitae, Xenospasm, Trophy Rack, Plasma Grenades, Wych Weapons, Combat Drugs; 8 Wyches with Wych Weapons, Plasma Grenades, Splinter Pistols, Close Combat Weapons
Function: Slaughter non-vehicle units in melee
This unit is a fun one; it can take on just about anything short of a Dreadnought in close combat and forces units with fairly low strength into a slugging match that I'll most likely win due to reduced WS, fewer attacks and the Invulnerable saves that Wyches get in close combat. Combine this with the fact that the Dracite can be up to Strength 6 (with the Punisher, Animus Vitae and Combat Drugs) and this unit could probably take dedicated Assault MEQs like Khorne Berzerkers without too much trouble.