Warhammer 40k Lore – XV95 Ghostkeel Battlesuit (featuring SleepySack)

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In this video on Tau battlesuits, friend of the channel, Sleepysack, brings you some lore on one of the most advanced tau battlesuits, the XV95 Ghostkeel. Enjoy!!!

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Disclaimer: Warhammer 40k and all its affiliates are all property of Games Workshop and/or its subsidiaries and partners. All art and music fragments used in this video are property of their respective owners. I DO NOT claim it as my own.

Music courtesy of Kishan Sheth
Link – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-P4QAJv5MDc&t=1178s&index=1&list=PLbPlvqVBKyJ728wnzU2B3940EFdtFsCcP

Intro and Outro Music credits (Miguel Johnson):
https://soundcloud.com/migueljohnsonmjmusic/escape-remix

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Sources used:
http://warhammer40k.wikia.com
http://wh40k.lexicanum.com
http://deviantart.com
Various novels and materials from: http://blacklibrary.com

#Warhammer40k #Tau #Battlesuit

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21 thoughts on “Warhammer 40k Lore – XV95 Ghostkeel Battlesuit (featuring SleepySack)”

  3. Bob sitting in his Chair making the salivating Beeps on the new lore Yes Bob we will try to get some for you to reverse engineer, go continue that orders we have for our client. sorry about that GDN, Bob loves his tech.

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  11. 'The Broadside suit was standing motionless amongst the trees with a black drone brushing up against its antenna. Triggering maximum burst, Sicarius shot between two thick trunks to hit the battlesuit with the force of an azure thunderbolt. His tempest blade, held out like a spear, plunged deep into the torso unit to impale whatever foul excuse for a warrior hid within. Sicarius was rewarded with a fountain of sparks. The haywire energies played across the giant machine’s front, the drone hovering nearby zipping straight up out of harm’s way. The roar of a powerful chainsword came from below as Trondoris shot in towards them. With a cry of righteous hatred, he swung his two-handed eviscerator into the waist of the malfunctioning Broadside. The giant toothed blade juddered and jerked as Trondoris ground it through alloy and cable, his every muscle straining for the kill. With a sharp crack, the machine’s torso fell back, salvos firing upwards at random from its missile gauntlets as its top half toppled backwards into the mire. Sicarius gave a cry of triumph, grinning fiercely behind his helm as he savoured the taste of victory. Trondoris rammed his eviscerator point-first into the suit’s disembodied torso, hoping to churn the pilot within into ragged meat. The swordsman scowled, looking up at Sicarius in puzzlement as his blade found no purchase. ‘There’s nothing in there,’ he said. There was a shimmer from Sicarius’ flank, and Trondoris evaporated in a sizzling cloud of blood. The xenos warsuit that came looming out of the jungle was huge, easily twice the size of the Broadside walker. Gun-shapes flickered on its hulking shoulders, and fingers of plasma burned through the vegetation to stab into the Space Marines advancing around Numitor. The warsuit’s surface constantly rippled with green, brown and black striations that echoed the foliage behind it to an uncanny degree and made it almost impossible to delineate. The technological dervish emitted a low hum that set Sicarius’ teeth on edge even within his helm. Glitches danced across his readouts, fuzzing his targeting runes and turning his long-range vox to gibberish. A morass of blurring symbols danced across his vision, disturbingly reminiscent of the scrapcode feared by the Machine God’s faithful. Sicarius wrenched his faulty helm from his head with a growl of impatience, slamming it onto his belt with a clang. Every one of his squad was casting about for the assailant that had vaporised Trondoris, muzzles whipping right and left as they desperately sought for the source of the plasma fire that had pulsed from the trees. Incredulity jolted through Sicarius’ mind. The thing was right there! How could his brothers not see it? Revealed from its ambush site, the machine was gigantic, a shifting miasma of colour taller than a gun bunker. Then it struck him. The warsuit was somehow baffling its electronic presence, projecting camouflage signals so potent they were invisible even to auspex scans. It moved with almost silent grace through the dense vegetation; all that Sicarius could make out was a susurrus of white noise as it slid from trunk to trunk. ‘Helms off!’ shouted Sicarius, raising his pistol to send a ball of plasma searing towards the strange apparition. ‘It is invisible to machine-spirits!’ The monstrosity was already boosting up and over the shot, levelling the massive cannon-shaped silhouette of its right arm before firing a shot of its own. Sicarius hurled himself sideways a split second before a column of intense blue fire stabbed down. The blast incinerated the vegetation beneath him and sent up a cloud of scalding grey steam.
    ‘Quickly!’ Sicarius yelled as he vaulted behind a fallen tree. ‘Take your helms off, all squads! Hunt with the naked eye!’
    Glavius was the first to obey. Mag-clamping his helm to his waist, he recoiled in shock at the sheer size of the xenos warsuit suddenly visible before him. He took a bolt pistol shot on reflex, but the round went wide, winging something else entirely – the black disc-drone hovering between the trees. It gave a blurt of xenos tech-gibberish as it struggled to remain airborne. Squad Antelion, adapting to the new threat with fluid competence, opened fire. Those near enough to hear Sicarius’ order took off their helms and formed a loose skirmish line, loosing a fusillade of mass-reactive bolts from behind tree boles and moss-covered rocks. The ghost suit turned towards them with alarming swiftness, raising the blunt stub of an arm to send out a swarm of tiny projectiles. Impossibly, the miniature seekers collided head-on with every one of the tactical squad’s bolts, detonating them in a string of mid-air pyrotechnics. Not a single shot hit home. Then the giant warsuit returned fire, weapon arm projecting a column of white fire that incinerated two Ultramarines as it leaped back between the trees. Right into the path of Jorus Numitor. With a defiant yell, Numitor slammed his power fist home into the battlesuit’s knee joint. The blow tore away its lower leg in a gout of clear fluid and crackling sparks. With its shroud-tech disrupted, the giant’s disembodied limb flickered ochre and white as it toppled into the muck. Reeling from Numitor’s attack, the warsuit engaged the jet engine array at its back and shot vertically upwards, bursting through the jungle canopy in a shower of loose vegetation.
    ‘After it!’ shouted Sicarius, soaring upwards on a column of blue fire. All of his squad bar Glavius, still lumbered with his sergeant’s empty jump pack, launched themselves after him. There was a moment of thrashing green-black motion, and Sicarius blasted into the warm haze of artificial sunshine atop the canopy. A cloud of jade mantids billowed around him as he cast about for his prey. Every time one of his squad burst from the foliage to join him above the canopy the sergeant span around, pistol levelled, but the tau warsuit was nowhere to be seen. Sicarius shut down his jump pack engines, coming to rest on a thick and twisted bough as he scrutinised the horizon for any signs that would betray his quarry. Numitor joined them in an explosion of leafy fronds. His expression was that of the hunter whose spear had already pierced the prey, eager to finish the kill. ‘It’s gone, brother,’ said Sicarius.
    ‘No sign of it.’ He shaped quite another message with his fingers, however, using the sea-cant of the Talassarian ocean gangs – a language he had taught Numitor years ago during the doldrums of an interstellar haul.
    Watch. The. Insects.
    Numitor gave a slight nod. Suddenly his eyes widened. Sicarius was already turning as a cloud of scintillating mantids flocked upwards on his flank. He leapt to the side, pistol roaring as he sent a blazing white fireball right past the column of fusion energy searing the air in his wake. The plasma bolt connected with the shimmering ghost image behind the mantid swarm. Burning liquid splashed across the warsuit’s hull. Its camouflage systems shorted, flickered through a dozen colours, and died altogether to reveal an ochre monstrosity missing a lower limb. The thunder of bolt pistols echoed loud as Squads Numitor and Sicarius opened fire. One mass-reactive shot after another cratered the ghost suit’s carapace, each explosion so fierce it would have ripped an unarmoured tau in half. The warsuit was punched off balance, flailing a club-like arm against Kaetoros’ jetting gout of promethium. Numitor came in fast from its blind side and struck it with a thunderous uppercut. The thing was hurled backwards, smashing through the canopy in a cacophony of snapping timber to crash down into the black mire beneath. Looking down, Sicarius could just make out a drone darting in to press its antennae against those of the fallen giant. He made to take a kill shot, but his plasma pistol had yet to recharge.
    ‘Is it dead?’ asked Numitor.
    ‘Aye,’ replied Sicarius, ‘it’s dead.’
    ‘Good. We must be on the right track if these are the creatures they send to stop us…’ – Assault Squads Numitro & Sicarius vs Prototpye Ghostkeel Battlesuit.[First Damocles Crusade 742.M41]

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  16. Hello YouTube algorithm. Grimdark Narrator I fully understand that you can not hear it because everybody you know has the exact same accent as you but, Dua Lipa is an international singing super star because she perfectly blends singing talent, the English language and the exact same accent as you. Your voice's lack of an English accent is not a liability, it is your best asset to stand out from the crowd.

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  17. well at the dawn of millennium 3 we have a weapon called AIM120 AMRAAM which has a firing mode called "home on jam" and it is created to deal with strong and advanced offensive jamming equipment like this… just kidding… that's a machine to ride into battle at M41… and don't forget… use a mask… for the greater good! 😛

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