HSRTG wrote:Vanas wrote:*snip*
I get the feeling that it'd be less "waaa", than
<"WTF XENOS! TAKE ME BACK THIS INSTANT"
*attempts to knife Farseer*
*fails miserably due to, well, seer-ness*>
Why, whatever do you mean...
++++++++++++++++++++++++
My lady Taernaeth! Restrain thyself! Rhaedgar grabbed her by the shoulders as she launched herself at the farseer, eyes glittering blackly, an angry screech bursting from her throat. She writhed in the Wraithlord’s firm grasp, and suddenly her eyes flashed. Holding out her knife she pointed it at the female eldar, and with a spat syllable lightning flashed outward from the blade.
It shattered away as the farseer held up her hand leisurely; with a gesture, the eldar bound Tanith’s arms to her sides, her legs together, and she drifted into the air, muscles writhing against the psychic bonds. Tanith spat a curse at the eldar; unperturbed, she turned and strode away, Tanith hovering gently behind. The Wraithlord followed silently, sheathing his massive sword at his side.
They emerged from the shrine into a massive cavern, illuminated by the glow of a million crystals lining the walls and ceiling; beneath them spread an eldar town, wraithbone towers arching gracefully upward, domes silently spreading over low buildings. Fountains bubbled quietly at the intersections, and at the edges, larger open buildings sheltered what appeared to be the skeletons of vehicles. Tanith squinted as she was led down the stairs, bringing her eyes into focus over that distance, and they seemed to be growing the very skin over the wraithbone skeleton…
<Taernaeth, pay attention,> the farseer snapped irritably. She turned her eyes back to the female, glowering; the eldar gestured quietly before the entrance to the building they stood before, and the door silently opened with a half-heard trill of alien song. Tanith was stood unceremoniously against a wall, though not uncomfortably, as the chamber’s floor was covered with thick, warm rugs, pillows lining the walls along with low benches of exotic woods. As Rhaedgar carefully knelt and slid his massive head through the doorway, white-robed, hooded eldar females arrived, and gently divested the Farseer of her heavy ceremonial robes. Her back remained towards Tanith at all times; strive as she might, she could not peer around to see the farseer’s face. Likewise, all the eldar handmaidens remained hooded, hiding their faces from her.
Slowly at last, two of the women reached up and gently lifted off the heavy, rune-encrusted helmet; long gray hair spilled from within, damp with perspiration. The handmaidens gently dried it with flawless white cloths, and then laid a black silken cloak upon her shoulders, lifting a hood up to cover her head. With a gesture of her hands, they melted into the shadows, bowing low.
Though she still did not hear it, Rhaedgar spoke from where he knelt in the doorway,
Lady Anath. Must my lady Taernaeth remain bound thus?
<Rhaedgar, she has lived with the mon-keigh for more than twenty of their years. She must be cleansed of their unclean influence before she shall view the pure visages of the kindred,> the female growled in her cracked voice. Tanith realized she understood them, even though they weren’t speaking Low Gothic—they were speaking eldar. And she hadn’t heard a word of it all her life.
Nevertheless, Rhaedgar persisted,
it is an injustice. She will not fight in a hopeless situation; she cannot possibly escape. Without a soulstone, if she dies…
<Then she dies,> Anath murmured implacably. Tanith muttered angrily under her breath and the Wraithlord’s blank visage turned to face her. She stared back defiantly, and he quietly commented,
Thee art surrounded by a score upon a score of eldar, full half of them mighty Aspect Warriors. All the power ye do have is being able to destroy mere things; thee art no match for our warlocks and seers, no matter how much raw power thee hast. Striving to escape, milady Taernaeth, is not recommended.
She ground out angrily, “Don’t call me that! My name is Tanith! And you can do what you may, I’m not going to stay here a moment longer than I have to!”
Anath barked out a harsh laugh; she turned to face Tanith and murmured from underneath the concealing hood,
<Such pride. You are indeed a daughter of Matholyk, a child of great Asuryan.>
With a gesture Tanith’s bonds were freed; she dropped into a combat-ready crouch, and then flinched away, leaping aside and rolling nimbly to her feet as the dagger flew from her hand to Anath’s. The farseer tilted her head, a golden glitter coming from underneath her hood, and whispered in her cracked voice,
<Rhaedgar? Summon the seers. It is time she was cleansed before she may become one of our kindred again.>
The Wraithlord bowed and brought up its hand to rest upon its sculpted bone breast, then carefully backed its head out of the doorway and stood, striding down the street. She turned to Tanith, tilted her head and held up the dagger. Scorn filtering through her voice, she uttered,
<A weapon of the mon-keigh, I see. You will find ours much better.> She brought up her other hand, a jointed wraithbone construct, and wrapped it around the blade. With a loud crack, she snapped it; opening the artificial hand, shards of the blade fell to the floor.
Anath whispered,
<Until you are cleansed, you are no better than a pointy-eared mon-keigh. Claim your name as a daughter of the eldar, Taernaeth. Embrace your true birth, and surrender that false heritage the mon-keigh have inculcated you with. Come into your position, your birthright as a seer of the eldar, to become Farseer upon the day my soul enters the infinity circuits.>
Tanith stared at the female, her muscles still tense and ready to spring. She muttered, knowing it was futile, “You won’t be able to convert me, witch…”
Anath chuckled darkly, as the black-robed, helmeted seers began entering, their silent visages peering at her sharply. Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, she allowed the handmaidens to disrobe her and wrap her in light, silken white robes; and she was then led down an inner flight of steps into an underground chamber.
A pool of water glittered beneath, and a pallet hovered gently above it; steam arose lightly from the water’s surface. One of the seers gestured, and the pallet floated over to them; he pointed at Tanith, and indicated the pallet. Casting a glower upon him, she laid down upon it. As it floated back to above the water, the eldar began taking positions around the water, at the edges of the catacomb.
Underneath her, the water began to glow white; suddenly a mighty light blasted up from underneath, and her back arched…
The gods stood proud before her. Asuryan, the greatest of them all, long dead. Isha, the Mother. Vaul, forging his weapons for the war against the Yngir. And Kaela Mensha Khaine, the Bloody-Handed God, He whom slew Mother Isha and Kurnous and bound Vaul to his own anvil.
The Eldar people struck out from their very birth, and ruled over the galaxy. The stars were theirs; yet they sowed the wind, and the whirlwind was their harvest. They fell, the world-ships of the Craftworlds their only survivors. And from their fall was born She who Thirsts, the nemesis of the eldar, whom the humans know as Slaanesh, the Dark Prince. And even mighty Khaine was struck down, his only remains being fragments of his self secreted in the Craftworlds. Only the Laughing God lived yet.
And from the Craftworlds, the Exodites went forth; and some of them, from Ulthanash-Shelwè, built beautiful Khalembrasil.
Upon the floating pallet, her back arched in silent pain as needles lanced upward from the frame underneath the pads; her eyes rolled back into her head as the vision changed…
Ancient, millennia-old forests waved gently in the ethereal wisp of wind that rustled through their delicate branches, formed over thousands of years by the inhumanly patient treesingers. Their slim, glossy leaves trembled at the resounding impact of enormous footfalls nearby. For a moment, all stilled, alien bird-song twittered through the air. The glades of the eldar stood proud, as they had for the past ten thousand years.
And then the mighty impact of the Warhound Titan’s foot shattered them, breaking and scattering the wood, splinters flying and flaking off its powerful void-shields. The graceful towers of Khalembrasil stood proud in the distance.
The Titan’s mighty battle-horns bellowed out a litany of hatred, of the holy duty of Mankind to eradicate the xenos. About its feet, Chimera armoured personnel carriers darted forth in a rough line, dust clouds rising in their wake. Leman Russ tanks led the charge, a mighty Baneblade in the fore.
They met a withering hail of fire from shuriken rifles and catapults; but the monomolecular disks chattered uselessly against the stout forgeworld-crafted armour. Heavier weapons were brought to bear; Vyper jetbikes and Falcon grav-tanks fired at the line of advancing tanks. The Titan’s battle-horns screeched, and its plasma cannon belched forth a ball of coruscating blue flame that detonated deep within the eldar lines, flinging wraithbone-armoured bodies high into the air.
The eldar and mon-keigh lines met with a mighty clangor; the Chimeras vomited forth their load of red-coated Praetorian Guardsmen, as the dim silhouette of Valkyrie transports appeared above the horizon. Within the city, ivory-white Thunderhawks snarled downward from the battle cruiser of the Adeptus Astartes Praetorians, landing to disgorge their cargo of battle-brothers or hovering in midair as assault Marines leaped out, darting to the attack with jetpacks.
The mon-keigh wrought devastation, even as the valiant warriors of the Howling Banshee, Dire Avenger, Dark Reaper, Warp Spider and Fire Dragon Aspects fought alongside the plain-armoured Guardians of the city. Eldar jetbikes screeched between the tall buildings, pursuing or being pursued by Imperial fighters or Astartes speeders.
The Warhound Titan blasted its way through the city, as its two brothers came in at the flanks; its Vulcan mega-bolter shattered a tower in its way. It pivoted at the waist to survey the area—and found itself staring into the distort cannon of a mighty eldar Cobra tank.
With a mighty flare of unearthly colours, the distort cannon fired; the very air about the Titan rippled, and tore asunder. The battle all about the city halted for a moment as all faces turned towards the tear in the very fabric of reality that asserted itself; and with a last wail of its battle-horns, metal tore like paper, weapons exploded, and the void-shields shattered, as the Titan was slowly ripped apart and sucked into the Empyrean.
The tear in reality closed with a disturbing sucking noise, and battle reasserted itself. The eldar were driven back; despairing, they began evacuating, the gates through the Webway hissing as slim figures darted through, the warriors striving to maintain order.
Scenes flashed before Tanith’s eyes too fast to follow; Rhaedgar Autarch commanding his warriors at the front lines, Farseer Anath and the seer council wreaking massive psychic assaults, the last stand of the valiant Dark Reaper Aspect against a Baneblade tank. A human psyker—she recognized him! Leading a squad of black-armoured Space Marines against the eldar, it was he whom she called Blue because of his eyes! But what was he doing…
He gestures, and laughs as a robed woman desperately trying to save her child is torn apart by invisible hands. A bone-armoured guardian darts from the shadows, screaming in anger and grief; before the Marines can twitch, he is struck aside and literally splattered against a wall. They turn a corner, and there is a Webway gate before them, a line of civilians turning to face them.
The Marines—Tanith supposed they were Deathwatch, the Ordo Xenos’ elite corps of Marines from the Chapters of the Adeptus Astartes—leveled their bolters and opened fire. The xenos man—Blue—lifted his hand and eldar simply begin exploding.
More scenes flash before her eyes—human Guardsmen massacring eldar, the Adeptus Astartes Praetorians roaring as their chainswords slay xenos, psykers and Inquisitors capturing specimens or simply assisting in the cleansing.
Khalembrasil fades away, and lays devastated before her eyes.
She opened her dark eyes; tears flowed down her cheeks. Sitting up on the pallet as the light from beneath in the water darkens, she reached up to her breast and tore her robes off; naked, she rolled off the pallet and splashed into the water.
Gracefully, her slim figure cut through the warm spring water and emerged at the edge of the pool; stepping out, she held out her arms, and silently the handmaidens robed her anew. One of the seers murmured, as Anath stood upon the steps watching silently, “Be born anew, Taernaeth ap Matholyk aes Anath. Be one with the kindreds of the eldar once again. Embrace thy destiny, daughter of Anath!”
She turned, and solid black eyes looked sharply at him. Taernaeth spoke, “Seer, do not insult me by stating what I am doing already. The mon-keigh have failed, and I have returned to the Eldar. Let the younger races fear us again!”
