The Rise of New Commorragh

Hello Master, you have come to seek my wisdom. I can tell. I am ancient, and my knowledge spans back millennia before the fall of our glorious race. In you child, I the fires of ambition burn bright. As bright as any Archon before you, and a good deal more hot than many. That's good, that's good, for that fire of ambition is what makes a legend. Lord Vect had it, when he was but a slave on the verge of sacrifice. His son, Lord Aratosh had it, when he rose from the birthing chambers to challenge the city of Commorragh itself. The question is, will you allow the vanity, pride, and arrogance stop you, as it has so many before?

Walk to the window with me Master, and allow me to tell you the tale of a group of children, and how they forged a mighty kabal through greed, treachery and the hand of fate. These children embodied the very soul of the Eladrith Ynneas, each in their own particular manner.

Look out on these streets, as this is where our tale begins. A rather unfriendly place for a child, but where the future leaders of the kabal began their rise to glory, nonetheless...

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Vayr'kala ducked into an alleyway as a hellion zoomed overhead. Instantly she knew it was a mistake. A crowd of about twenty other dark kin, ranging from child to teen was huddled around something a bit further from the street. Her hand flew to her knife ready to defend herself, but most of the other children were too busy to notice her. Vayr'kala heard sound of crying, and as one of the children let loose a rock, a shriek came from the creature in the center of the crowd. A child, probably from some slave... A typical sight on the streets of Commorragh, the weak cannibalizing the weaker. Even so, Vayr'kala felt a slight rush as a fresh wave of agony washed over her from the battered child...

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From the crowd of children, Orthien alone had seen the girl slip into the alley. He also noticed the hellion pass by moments later. That would bring trouble. It was nearly impossible to imagine a group this large would pass by the rapt attention of the skyboarder. In minutes, if not sooner Orthien figured, he would return with a few more members of his gang. Almost instinctively, Orthien stepped back from the crowd, pressing himself into shadows that had become all too familiar to him. As he did, he caught the radiant topaz eyes of the girl, and in that glimpse knew that she was not like the rest of these ignorant cattle...

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Xel’ysth stepped into the weapon shop. A withered wretch who appeared as though he had not seen the arena in a cycle manned the counter. The place smelled of smoke and blood. It made Xel'ysth nervous, for it brought to mind the stories she had heard of kidnappings and backstabbings. It made her less nervous though, than the thought of moving around the city carrying the items stolen from her fathers house, and one of the ratty splinter pistols lining the shelves of the store would go a long way on the road to staying alive...

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Vash crawled into the remnants of the dying suns light. It had been a hard climb up from the catacombs into which he had escaped from the splinter works, but four years of hard labor had more than prepared him for the challenge. Before him the great spires of the dark city rose piercing the heavens with an arrogance seemingly designed to defy gods. His clothes were the worn rags of a slave, and the thirst was upon him. For the first time in his life, however, he would be able to quench it as he chose...

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The night was young, Master, and for these children, the fires of their ambition were just starting to burn...

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So it begins. As you have noticed, I have written a separate piece for each character. I would ask that you wait until your place in the narative to post your actions (just like waiting your turn in a tabletop), doing that will ensure that the story can be told well, and in a logical manner. Play order for this post would be Malys, Orthien, Cavash, and last Thor. After everyone has moved their pawns, so to speak, I'll step in and set up the next part of the story, and a new play order will be established (by which characters I write about first, descending).

If something would seem logical to assume, please feel free to assume away (an example would be that Vayr'kala noticed Orthien as he stepped into the shadows, as she was observing the crowd, and their eyes met...), If it's not logical to assume, or you feel as though you need to ask, ask in the OOC thread.

Here's hoping that everyone enjoys!

Vayr'kala didn't quite know why she did it. Perhaps it was the rush of agony from the victim, the sweetness of the suffering. But she wasn't hungry. not really. Her Father had explained the hunger to her, and how it wasn't like the feeling from lack of food.

There was something, though. She looked at the crowd and could see two things: that they were all picking on their victim together, and that maybe if you didn't have a group like that, well, maybe that was how you ended up the one in the middle. She had seen the Hellion fly over and she did know, like everyone did, that if you messed with one Hellion you messed with them all. If he'd seen the group of children then he would probably tell his friends, so they could have some fun with target practice. Her Father had called the Hellions sky vermin, though he'd laughed when she asked if they would ever attack him. But then he had turned serious, and told her that if they got the chance, they certainly wouldn't mind shooting at her.

One of them wasn't really watching the one in the middle, and he was looking at her. He'd seen her go into the alleyway and he had a good instinct for hiding. The trouble was, there was only one place to hide properly in this particular alley and it lay on the other side of the stone-throwing group. She felt that he was looking at her as if he knew, like she did, that being distracted right now by their prey was going to end badly when the Hellions showed up. Which was going to be soon. So he was smarter than they were. Smart enough to watch the skies and not just the street, maybe.

She darted over. If he had any silly ideas, well, she had the knife. There was a place a couple of streets over, safe, and he looked small enough to take the same shortcut she did.

"Come on," she said, looking up at the boy, quietly so only he could hear. "that Hellion'll be back in a minute and he's got 'friends'. I know somewhere we can hide out until they're gone."

Orthien stood in the shadows, having just seen the lone Hellion glide overhead moments before. This would not end well and as he watched as a look of fear crossing the girl with topaz eye's porcelain face he knew she had realized the same. She looked across the ally, eyes darting between the sky, the throng of children before him and finally himself before she began to move quickly towards him. There was a grace in her steps that he couldn't quite put his finger on, moving as if she could be elsewhere before you had a chance to blink. Orthien slowly and cautiously began drawing his blade from the back mounted sheath he had fabricated for himself some months ago.

As she approached Orthien gripped his blade tight, yet everything about her said she was different than the common filth he had been forced to live among. He doubted she could be trusted but it didn't seem like she was of the mind to end his life. Not now at least.
She moved up beside him and quietly so the others could not hear she spoke, "Come on, that Hellion'll be back in a minute and he's got 'friends'. I know somewhere we can hide out until they're gone."

He glanced up the ally she was motioning towards. It seemed safe enough, and was closer and far more protected than any of the other ways out. He could already hear the faint roar of the Hellion pack approaching and decided that he may leaving with this girl may be his best chance to survive, if not for the extra body between him and his hunters.
He nodded to her as he sheathed his blade and they immediately took off up the ally.

Behind them they heard the laughter of the pack as the Hellion gang dropped onto the children. Splinter pod fire echoed up the ally and the screams of children filled the air. Orthien tried to savor the agony of the street filth whose brief lives were ending behind him but he did not look back.

The duo continued to run as the girl lead him through a maze of streets and back allies. She was quick, but Orthien's training let him keep pace as they darted past the dingy back-ally shops.
Run down holes these places were. Places where the weak and greedy cling to life, praying on those who live with nothing just so they may one day visit the the grand Arena and drag out their pathetic existence for another few decades.

The look in his eyes was terrible to behold. All manner of lust and depravity flicked through them the moment her presence in the shop was noticed and the shopkeeper took his place behind the counter.

She clutched the sack closer to her now that she had been noticed, partly for comfort, partly for protection. She had heard of these types. They would murder her, eat her and sow her face into their clothes. Only if she was lucky would it be in that order.

The shopkeeper returning to the floor of the shop was unfortunate. She had been eyeing a Splinter Pistol on the wall. It would certainly help here out on the streets, but if she tried to grab it now she was certain to be on the receiving end of some sort of weapon that lay hidden beneath the counter.

“What have you got there, lass?” He asked through cracked lips, speech revealing his blood stained teeth. The air smelt like bitter iron and putrid smoke that choked the air that she was breathing.

“Items to sell, servant.”

“Servant?” He hissed in outrage. “Who do you think you are? A Trueborn?”

As a matter of fact, she was. If she told him that, though, there would be no escape from his foetid trading store.

“My humblest of apologies.”

“You speak like one of those Trueborn, too. Is there something that you aren’t telling me?” He grinned, leaning over slightly to look her in the eyes.

“Of course not. You seem like a lovely, honourable gentleman, why would I lie to you?”

With a chuckle the shopkeeper leant back and looking down his pale nose at her. “Very wise, lass. What do you need?” He thought that she hadn’t seen it, but she was no fool. He had touched an activation rune under the countertop, most likely to inform his friends that there was a Trueborn in his presence, one that would sell for a high price.

“I need firearms. I want that pistol.” She pointed to the gun on the wall behind him. All she needed to do was get her hands on it. It would be loaded; after all, this was a weapon store. Everything was to be kept loaded at all times, in case somebody who thought that they could perform a grand heist came along.

“Now, the question is, can you afford it?”

She emptied the bag onto the counter. A jewel encrusted statuette of the Dark Muse Qa’leh rolled out onto the surface, accompanied by a small box and a leather-bound tome. While inspecting the items the shopkeeper let off a number of disconcerting grumbles and grunts. The book seemed to be of no interest to him, he would probably have seen a number of them in his life. It was just one of the numerous plays written for a distant Archon. He didn’t care for it, even though it was an original copy. The small box rattled as he shook it, but he handed it to Xel’ysth to open while she looked over to the door, awaiting her potential future murderers. Sliding the puzzle box’s panels carefully, as not to risk impulsion and the destruction of it’s contents, she finally opened it, revealing the sparkling diamonds within.

The shopkeeper probably would have accepted them, but he was too busy admiring the statue to notice. The sculpture’s value was likely more than anything he had seen. He did not speak and did not look at her. He raised the Pistol from its place on the wall, slid it across the desk with a holster and ammunition before returning to the backroom.

She pocketed the diamonds but abandoned the tome before scarpering out into the streets of Commorragh.

She had not seen him hit the deactivation rune.

Vash waited quietly in the ruins of one of the spire outcroppings of some long forgotten house and watched the streets carefully. He realized very few people in the garb of slaves were wandering around alone, that made new clothing a primary concern. After all, he was free now, wasn't he? In his hands he was working on a curved piece of metal that he had sharpened into a fine cutting tool. He had set it into a three foot length of blackened metal, treated to ensure a firm grip. The blade itself was collapsible or could be extended out like a pick. It was a good tool and weapon in one, and would serve to compliment the stiletto.

A thought of the stiletto made him glance down at his left wrist and the jagged, still healing, wound there, wrapped up in bloody bandages.

...okay, perhaps some medical attention would be a primary concern.

Some shuffling behind him caused him to glance over his shoulder. Steely, gray, scar laced, eyes narrowed as he peered into the darkness. There was something moving, a figure... His breath caught in his throat as he recognized it for what it was. A Dark Eldar, cloaked in a ratty gray robe as it crawled on all fours, its nose twitching as it trcked along the ground, a pale pink tongue sneaking out of chapped black lips to lap at a small smear of blood on the ground, blood that had leaked from Vash's arm wound.

A Parched - one of the fallen Dark Eldar, gone too long without any true sustenance, their soul slowly being drawn away by She Who Thirsts. Alone it was of little threat, but the wretches often traveled in packs. His hand found the smooth worn handle of his weapon, grit encrusted fingers slowly finding a comfortable resting point.

The Parched snorted slightly, seeming to sense the movement or, perhaps, hear the whisper of sound It lifted its head peering about, yellowed eyes narrowing as it peered through the gloom, blackened lips peeling back from red tinted brown teeth as it hissed.

Vash thumbed the release catch, and the curved blade snapped into ready position.

The Parched sprang forward with surprising speed.

There was a flash of movement.

A spray of blood decorated a wall.

The Steel Rat made his way out of the ruins and fell into step amongst the crowds, a tattered gray robe covering his slave clothing, the hood pulled up to conceal his features. His weapon gripped at the ready underneath the concealing folds. The rejuvenating energy of the kill had done wonders to accelerate the healing of his injured wrist.

Clothing and medical attention handled. An elegant solution.

He suspected food was his next primary concern, perhaps finding a safe place for sleep. And after that...his eyes traveled upwards to the sky, seeing through the gloom and sprawl of the desolation of Low Commoragh towards the distant spires of light and power...after that, perhaps, he could see where his skills might take him.

Xel'ysth looked around and measured her options quickly. Soon a host of others would be here, and it would prove to be rather unpleasant. An unpleasantness she desperately hoped to avoid. Her first instinct was to find the shadows, but those would be the same places the group would likely look to first. She needed something else. From somewhere close a gout of splinter pod fire sounded. Children, around her age spilled from an alley close by, some appeared to be injured, but it seemed as though whoever caused the commotion was otherwise occupied...

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Food. Real food. Something that Vash had, at times, suspected he might never actually get. While one day he would eat like a king, right now he would have to make do with what he could obtain. Raiding a abandoned house seemed the safest choice, and the boy set off into down a small dingy side street to look for just that. Always being acutely aware to stay in at least sparse crowds to mask himself, Vash made his way through the city. After some hours the boy found what appeared as though it might have once been a tavern or bar, made for creatures lesser than even dark eldar slaves. It was all but ruins now, but with any luck there may still be a morsel or two left inside...

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Vayr'kala ran in front of a boy she had just met, always keeping one eye on the path in front of her and doing her best to always keep one behind her as well. It was well that she did, as it offered her the opportunity to see a hellion drop into one of the more open spaces through which they ran, and start to pursue them. The boy hadn't noticed him yet, perceptive though he was. The hellions eyes were dull with some type of drug, but the look on his face screamed of bloodlust. Vayr'kala knew that they would not be fortunate enough for the splinter pod, not today. The attacker closed quickly, and for the first time the boy noticed the hum of the skyboard. As the boy turned to look over his shoulder, Vayr'kala saw the hellion raise his glaive...

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Orthien looked over his shoulder towards the sound that had quickly grown on him, but before he did he already recognized it. A skyboard. That meant the chances of their escape had gone from low to non-existent. He would at least meet the eyes of his assailant, steal from him the pleasure of stabbing Orthien in the back, his trueborn pride demanded at least that of him. As his eyes met those of his attacker, Orthien saw his death in looking back at him. As the raised glaive came dove to taste his blood, a spear of darkness slammed through the air leaving a smell of ozone in its wake. The skyboard veered wildly and threw the hellion into a wall with a sickening crunch. As he dropped to the ground, much too still, Orthien traced the direction the shot that had saved his life came from, only to catch a glimpse as someone in blood red armor disappeared from sight in the buildings high above...

Her heart screamed inside her chest and her brain sang with panic. The baseline thudding of her own pulse in her ears made caused her to move faster than she thought her legs could carry her. She thought that she would collapse, that her legs would tumble from beneath her and then she would be caught, helpless and doomed to whatever her captors could imagine. No, she wouldn’t let them; she would find a way to escape.

She came to a halt at the end of the alleyway that led into the street and looked around. Out there it seemed quiet and potential hiding places were all around. Every building caused copious amounts of shade darker than the void to stab off into the street. These would be ideal hiding places. She could find her own refuge in the night where she could rest safely and watch, even eliminate her pursuers one by one if she needed to. No, this would not do. They would look in the dark for her; they would be relentless in their search if she knew this breed of scum peasantry correctly. Also, she had been told tales by her father of shadows that scurried from their homes, nigh visible in anything other than direct light, that would claw, strangle and bite as every single touch burnt at your flesh and froze your soul.

She had always believed them to be stories made to keep her from venturing into these lower levels, but now, as anxiety and fear were all that she knew in the deep dark depths of Commorragh she started to doubt that they were stories after all.

If she could not hide in the dark, then where?

Hide in plane sight! But how can you hide in plane sight when there is nothing to hide in and nobody to hide with?

Jhit Jhit

The clean cracking of Splinter fire was perfectly clear even at a distance. They must have been approaching.

As she drew the Splinter Pistol she placed her back against the wall of a run down store and edged towards a distant alleyway. The buildings rose for countless miles above, shrouded by the fog of the ages. It was a red mist said to have been created by those foolish enough to buy wings and to live in terrible eyries high above. The ‘winged fiends’, as she had come to know them, were said to snatch people high up to the point where they could hardly, where it felt like a Raider was pinned to their chest, before being thrown onto needle thin thorns where their bones would be picked free of all meat. The fog was said to be the final tears and droplets of blood that escaped the Scourges.


She moved towards the sound of weapons fire and stayed alert. She had not seen anybody follow her, but that meant nothing in the Dark City.

“What is that?” She demanded from herself as the screams of countless children flooded from the alleyway. Then bodies appeared.

One fell down, his back littered with the steaming shards that had already corrupted his life fluids with venom. Some were limping while others were covered with blood, both theirs and the other children’s. She had only counted fourteen children before the Hellion swooped in and decapitated two with wild, blood chilling laughter. It was then that she knew what she had to do.

With a stern expression she sprinted out into the open and caught up with the group. Naturally she was faster, being free from injury and filled with adrenaline. She could see the Skyboard rider turning sharply high above, his board spitting out a jet of screaming blue flames.

His face was full of glee; his eyes were full of contempt for the ground-bound civilians. Then he caught sight of her, smiled, and dived in for the kill.

She fired off at the Hellion while some of the children attempted to smash down the door to a derelict building. Each shot missed their mark massively and the crazed bandit didn’t even seem deterred.

He returned fire, shredding six of the others; then the rain came.

The Hellion lost attention in his ground prey as he looked to the sky and saw a winged creature with shimmering golden feathers swoop down, it’s complex Splinter weapon aiming straight for him.

The Hellion shot towards the Scourge and Xel'ysth moved inside, Splinter Pistol switching between the children to keep them in line while the noise of war came from above.

The symbology above the door marked the establishment as 'Snapshots' with multiple inflections suggested ranging from accuracy of fire, potency of liquor, and holo vidography. Vash wasn't sure if it was truly clever, or simply age marring the symbol enough that he was seeing things in it that weren't there.

The door creaked as he pushed it open, the inside of Snapshots was smoky filled with a musky aroma of rot and blood. Most of the conversation paused as he entered, and Vash sank his head within the folds of his cloak as he made his way towards the bar. Noting his shabby appearance, and his lack of desire to scan the room, the other disreputable patrons slowly slid back into their own hushed conversations and drunken musings. Dozens of different species were present here, all armed, as any sane person walking the streets of Commoragh would be. Vash took enough furtive glances to spot which weapons looked more for show, and which bore the telltale signs of regular use. Moreso than that, he also noted which weapons, despite heavy use, had been well cared for.

The lizard-like creature in the back with the eyepatch and the matched dueling pistols, and the albino mon-keigh rogue trader with the well worn powersword at his hip would both be due attention. Such information would be important if blood began to be spilled.

The Dark Eldar behind the bar was...unusual. Slim of form, and not unattractive in the body. Her head was shaved bald and various mechanical nodules protruded from around scared and puckered flesh. Her eyes were the most off-setting aspect of her though. Vash would describe the color as...static? She seemed to have no iris at all, only a luminescent blue staticy glow coming from the wide open sockets.

She smiled invitingly.

"What will it be? We have competitive rates for food, drink, pleasure, and pain."

"Food."

"A simple enough choice," She smiled, a crooked little grin that caused her nose to scrunch up slightly. her eyes remained staring and wide open voids of blue static. "My apologies, but considering your appearance, it seems wise to inquire about your ability to pay."

"I have no soul chits, barter?"

"Acceptable, what do you offer?"

"Hand crafted blades?"

"We already have silverware for our guests."

"My swordarm."

"Looks malnourished."

"What is it you need?"

"Need? ...pull back your hood."

"Why."

"Because it amuses me, and because you need a meal."

Vash scowled, the tips of his ears coloring slightly as he reached up and showed her his face. She laughed as her eyes suddenly flared brighter, beams of light dancing out of them. With a whirring click they went out again, she smiled as she reached up to her right front temple and extracted a small data crystal

"What," he snarled as he felt his hand close around his stiletto, "was that?"

"That, is your payment. I think I shall title the speech 'tiny vainglory crushed in small ways' " She pocketed the crystal as she gestured to her eyes, 'sensory recorders, I work for a very interesting man who pays me quite well to provide him with unique torments and pleasures for his clientele. I think yours...should be worth the price of a decent meal."

"And a bed."

"Oh?" She smirked, "a bargain driver, hmmm? How about a cheap meal, and a spot on a rug by the hearth till morning?"

"Well dealed and done," he announced.

"Dealed and done," she replied with another crooked smile and nose scrunch. "I am Myylindra, proprietress of this establishment, and you..."

"Are hungry."

There was no way she could outrun the speeding Hellion on his skyboard. Vayr'kala's eyes flew wide as she caught the wild stare of the skyrat's glazed expression, high on the thrill of the hunt and whatever was clouding it - she could swear time slowed down. Every detail shone out with crystal clarity. Desperately she snatched up her knife. Maybe if she could just hit him it would make him veer enough to one side to hit the side of one of the buildings, all she needed to do was make him clip the wall -

It was never going to be enough.

Just behind her - in front, now, as she span wildly round to try the throw - there was the distinctive crackle of a darklight weapon and the Hellion was suddenly a pinwheeling, free-falling blur, the damaged skyboard veering off into a battered gantry as its rider dropped to earth like so much rotten fruit. He hit the slick, puddled surface of the alley and lay slumped. The boy was still standing upright, still defiant, as the final moments of their enemy sank in and he realised that today was not his day to die, at least not now. Vayr'kala followed his stunned gaze.

Behind one of the towering chimneys, where it met the network of skyways that served to keep the richer citizens of this wretched quarter out of the sump-grease and trash of the alleys, she could see a figure in blood-red armour, the colour of ruby eyes. Her heart leaped as if it would escape right out of her constricted throat and suddenly she knew, right now, that they would reach the shelter of the safe house. He was watching over her, just as he had promised. But she would have to run, before anyone else saw.

"Come on," she said to the boy. He hadn't shot the youth, so he must be satisfied with her decision to bring him along. That was enough for her. "We need to get out of sight. While everyone's running from the Hellions they won't see which way we go!" She gave his arm a hesitant little tug, not sure if he'd heard her but equally sure she didn't want him to think that she was trying to pick a fight with him.

She ran quickly to the spot near the end of the alley where there was an old, rusted ladder clamped to the wall, broken off halfway and seemingly leading nowhere. Ten feet or so from the ground there was an inconspicuous hatch that led into an entrance chamber, which in turn opened onto the small safe house. Looking quickly right and left, making sure no-one could see the code, she punched in the numbers, and slid in like a haemovore into a pipe before the hatch was even half open.

Orthien stood, still locked in his place as the Hellion fell to the damp ground across the alleyway with a enjoyable plop, his body lifeless from the Dark Light wound on his chest. Orthien's senses were still alive with adrenaline from the death he had just been snatched clear of as he watched a Scourge clad in Blood red armor disappearing into the heights of the city.
Who was this warrior who had just saved his life, no denizen on Commorragh would save anothers life without reason.

Beside him the girl stood watching the Scourge with a smile on content, maybe even a hint of excitement upon her face.
Did she know this man? Was my life saved because I had decided to follow this stranger?
Lost within his own thoughts he barely heard the girl beside him speak.
"Come on," she said. "We need to get out of sight. While everyone's running from the Hellions they won't see which way we go!"
His awareness returning as she tugged on his arm, the Hellions were still causing commotion in the streets and no doubt another would be along shortly.

The girl motioned to an old forgotten ladder against the far wall which seems to lead to a dead end. "This could be a trap" he thought to himself, "How do I know there is even somewhere safe up there.."
He considered for a moment leaving the girl now and pursing his own way to safety but that Scourge stuck in his head. If this girl did indeed have a Scourge watching over her and her companions for whatever reason then perhaps the shelter she offered could be abused just a little bit longer.

Sounds of combat echoed from a Alley nearby and it sounded like it was getting closer. Orthien nodded to the girl and began to make his way for whatever the ladder offered.
As he passed the body of the Hellion he paused, it sat hunched against the wall in a puddle of his own blood, water and various colors of combat stimulants. Its Hellglaive lay beside him, broken beyond any repair's that Orthien could perform.
His corpse may have held other prizes to be looted but with new threats approaching there was not time to search for them.

Sprinting for the ladder Orthien quickly followed the girl into a little hatch that hid a coded door. No sooner than the moment he was inside the room the door closed behind him with a clang of steel.
The girl moved away from the hatch into the room where she was now able to stand up straight. "We should be all right here for a bit."

Orthien looked around the damp empty room he was now sealed inside. It seemed to be a well used safe house in its day, but that day had long since passed. Water dripped down the walls from broken pipe hidden somewhere within the ceiling coloring the black metal of the walls orange with rust. In the corner was a stash of rashons, what looked to be blankets and a small energy source for heat and cooking.
Orthien turned towards the girl, for the first time since meeting Orthien spoke to her "Where are we?"

Vayr'kala looked around the small room and her eyes flicked back to the strange boy. He wasn't holding a threat posture, and she was still buzzing with the adrenaline of surviving the encounter with the Hellions, edged with the faint tang of others' pain. She felt confident as well as curious, aware at the back of her mind that she was taking a risk, but too hyped up and nervy to really make sense of that yet. "This is one of my father's safe places. It's quiet here and we should be all right for a bit. Did you get hurt?" It was bubbling up, but she knew she had to keep it inside, to not show too much to someone she didn't know.

"I am fine" Orthien spoke, "That Blaster shot prevented any injury to me"

Vayr'kala nodded, looking around. There was some food here and somewhere to sleep, stored carefully away from the dripping leak. She wished she knew how to fix it. He father would have known how. She made an effort to get her euphoria under control.

As the heightend sense of things left his system and their safety now began to seep in Orthien started thinking back on what had just happened. He remembered the Scourge in the red armour and the look on the girls face as she saw him depart into the spired heights.

I'm-" She paused. Her father had taught her to be very cautious. But then he'd also marked this boy out in some way, chosen not to shoot him, so perhaps she should tell him her name.
"I'm Vayr'kala," she offered, looking the taller youth up and down.

"It is odd for a lone Scourge to offer assistance to those he does not know" He enquired "He seemed familiar to you", "Some kind of bodyguard?"
They had spoken at the same time. Feeling it rude to have asked such a question while she offered her identity. "I am Orthien"

"A bodyguard? No, he ... well, I think it's someone who looks out for me," Vayr'kala said cautiously. "Most Scourges travel alone, don't they?" "That's a nice name," the girl said, still looking a little distracted. Trying to work out why this one was special, what it meant that he was spared.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to stare."

"Its not the solitary nature of the Scourge that's unusual, more than the fact it didn't kill one or both of us after it dealt with that Hellion". She stood staring at him, a slight blank look washing over he eyes. "It is acceptable" he said. He paused for a moment "It is not often that one encounters somebody in the lower levels of the city such as ourselves"."It has been a long time since I have met another who did not belong here"

Vayr'kala paused, getting the last of her elation under control. Maybe it was his intelligence. He seemed to be bright, maybe her father thought he was smart too, like she had learned to be. He was a bit older than her too.
"I suppose - you're right, we don't really fit in here. I don't want to stay down here, anyway." Almost unconsciously, she glanced up at the unseen sky. "I think there's a reason we're both still alive. I think we're meant to help each other get out." It was a long shot. But if her father had chosen him as someone who could help her, then the boy would be more likely to do it if she helped him out too. She'd already done that by bringing him in here, but that was partly because she'd been so busy fleeing.

Orthien look at the girl as he thought on what she had just said. She had lead him away from the battle, away somewhere safe. She definitely had skill too, skill and a powerful ally somewhere above. He still couldn't be sure how long he could trust her but at least for now perhaps this could be used to get himself out of this 'place'. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow as he spoke, "What did you have in mind?"

"Let's watch each others backs. You can't be everywhere, you can't see everywhere at once, and I can't either. So maybe if we look out for each other, we will survive better." There was a word she was looking for, one that would explain it properly, but she couldn't bring it to mind. She thought a little more. "I know you might not think you can trust me, but if I wanted to hurt you I could just have kicked you down the ladder for the Hellions to find. So ... I think we can do it."

He let out a chuckle at the cockiness of her statement. As a smile passed his lips he nodded, "Perhaps together we may be able to ascend out of here all together". He continued as a slight hint of enthusiasm began to enter his usual stoic words "Perhaps this is a chance to regain a place in the city above".

She nodded with childish eagerness. After she'd run away she had been on her own, without any company she could really trust. She couldn't quite trust him fully yet, but she felt it was possible. "Yes. I think we can. If we work together. We could - make an alliance." That was the word.

He stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder, "An Alliance then" he said in agreement. "Now we should rest, we have much to plan now and we will no doubt need our strength for whats to come".

Vayr'kala nodded. "All right. An alliance." She smiled up at him and placed her hand on his as if to confirm it for a moment. Then she took a step back, to look at the pile of bedding and other supplies. "There's enough here for two of us, I sometimes used to stay here with someone I knew." She divided up the pile, passing him a thin insulation pad to keep out the chill from the bare floor.

Myylindra wore a smile as she set a bowl of foul smelling stew in front of Vash. Still wary of this wretched hive of scum and villainy, the boy took the bowl and retreated to a darkened corner from which he could watch each denizen of the establishment. Vash pulled at the broth slowly, savoring it. The smell actually masked a quite pleasant taste, and as the night wore on and the other patrons either left, retired, or passed out, Vash let his own eyes droop into a much needed sleep.

Vash's eyes snapped open. There were voices outside of the bar. One of them had a familiar tone to it, but the activity in the wee hours of Commorragh masked too much of it to distinguish anything for certain. Vash quickly took in his surroundings. Two tables over, a creature was passed out, a shiny new pistol (Las Pistol) dangling from his belt. Vash darted over and snatched it from the sleeping being.

Vash started for the kitchen area, where hopefully a back door waited. As his feet carried him across the floor, he heard Myylindras voice as the door started to swing open.

“Right this way gentlemen, the boy is sleeping in the corner...”

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Orthien and Vayr'kala drifted off to sleep, facing each other. Both knew that among the Eladrith Ynneas alliances were merely a bargain waiting to be broken, and neither were prepared to be taken by surprise.

Orthien woke and let out a small shriek, alerting Vayr'kala. A person sat watching them, perhaps only a foot away. The dark eldar was young, perhaps only 90 to 100 years old, in the terms of their people, only slightly older than they were. The young man sat, watching them and smiling. A cold calculated smile, that was completely in line with his hawkish features, and smoldering intelligence that held them speechless. After a moment, when he seemed certain the two children were completely awake, the man spoke.

“Hello you two, that was quite a display. I applaud your bravado. A friend who works for me on occasion said I could find you here...

In these dark streets, you know how to stay alive, it would seem, you're smarter than most of the rabble that ends up here, and because of that, I am going to make you an offer.

One day, in the distant future, I will call upon you for a task, and you will use every resource at your disposal to help me. In return, I will set you upon the path to rise out of these filthy streets, and go as far as your ruthlessness and cunning will take you.” The mans grin grew wider, and more devilish. “So, comrades, what do you say?”

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Xel'ysth edged away from the group of children, now entranced on the fight in the sky, back into the alleyways from whence the group had emerged. The stupid street urchins had no instinct for survival it would seem. Her eyes kept to the heavens for sign of board or wing, as her former savior could be her future killer. As she moved deeper into the alley, she noticed the signs of a fight here as well. A hellions board lay damaged, nearly cut in twain, and the owner sprawled lifelessly nearby. Whoever had done this had firepower, a lot of it, and recently. There was a scuffling noise from a small hatch. Whoever, or whatever was inside might be the same thing that killed this hellion, and that firepower could be useful. Quickly she grabbed the body and pulled it on top of herself, making it seem as though it were lying on trash, leaving only enough room for a view of the hatch. After an hour in her morbid hiding spot, Xel'ysth got her moment. A young man opened the hatch. As Xel'ysth took aim, something heavy dropped on the dead body above her. Within seconds, a scourge in red armor was holding, letting her dangle by her gun arm in front of a smiling man...

Vash instinctively ducked low, scurrying across the floor like his namesake as he edged open the door to the kitchen. He had been foolish, Myylindra had probably noted his slave clothing and immediately reported him to see if there was any available reward. He would have to divest himself of his garments as soon as possible.

At least...he hoped that was the reason. Because if there were other reasons for how quickly he'd been hunted down as soon as he surfaced then he had a multitude of larger potential problems coming after him. He spared himself a glance over his shoulder, just edging up his gaze enough to peer out between two of the slotted beaten copper panels that decoratively concealed the kitchen door slightly from the main chamber. His eyes widened in shock at what he saw.

Myylindra was there, of course, her shadow easy to pick out due to the shimmering static eyes that cast a dim glow across her face and outward into the room. He found himself wondering if she'd been paid well. She pointed out the small clump of rags Vash had recently been sleeping underneath.

Near to her came more figures, strong armed Dark Eldar with grim faces bearing the markings of one of the innumerable slaver guilds, clearly paid muscle intent on his retrieval. Their leader was a short fellow bearing the facial scars of a former Hellion ganger, a wickedly barbed Stunclaw resting on his shoulder as he spat on the floor in disgust before shoving Myylindra out of the way.

"Remember, he will be taken alive and untouched, I want those pleasures for myself."

Vash's blood ran cold in his veins.

Nock’felya herself strode into the entryway. She still wore her violet and crimson armor from the refinery, but her once unmarked and elegant face was now half hidden behind a half mask of gold that was sculpted to suggest a beautiful female's features. Vash allowed himself one small smirk, wondering how some of the scars there had pained her in more ways than one. She had apparently had the money to regrow her hand though, as she now pointed with it.

Vash eased back into the kitchen, his eyes quickly darting about. He had a handful of breaths as they moved across the room, another half handfull as they were confused by him missing. Then, only a half handful more as they would start to spread out, unquestionably with the kitchen as a top location to search.

There was an exit door in the back for taking out refuse.

It was a sliding panel.

There was a copper scrub brush on the counter by one of the sonic cleaning refinors.

There was a small container marked as holding Iscarian jelly.

He had the laspistol.

The Steel Rat moved quickly and silently, popping out the laspistol's power pack, grabbing the brush, and snatching the pot as he stepped up to the door and it whisked open for him. Even as it began to close he heard the shout from inside of 'Find Him!' as Nock’felya the vain and disgusting threw one of her usual tantrums.

A handful of Iscarian jelly slapped against the wall gave him a disgustingly sweet, yet secure anchoring place for the laspistol's power pack. A quick half twist with his stiletto pried open a panel that revealed delicate wiring within. Another half twist with his blade...this was taking too long...and he had the needed copper wires which he hooked around two important couplings and then also latched into the door.

The makeshift ambush bomb set, Vash spun on his heel and took off at a full run into the alleys behind the restaurant. If he was very lucky the blast *might* even kill one of the slavers, and it should certainly at least give them enough concern and pause to buy him time to put real distance between him and his pursuit.

His gray robe trailing out behind him, Vash ran blindly through the darkness towards an uncertain future, but trying to outpace a very certain past.

The smiling man walked up to her, his smile obviously a facade. The rage and hatred in his eyes burned a hole into her psyche and a fear washed over Xel’syth like she had never felt before. "An assassin, really? What are you getting paid, and who is paying to send you off to a death sentence boy?"

Looking up in confusion with a heart full of annoyance that she was keen to show, all that Xel'syth could think to say was "I'm a girl, dammit! Are you that much of a Mon-keigh that you can't even tell gender?" Her voice had cracked, betraying her fake strength and revealing the terror within.

The man grabbed her jaw with such force that she feared that he may break it. The cold smile never left his face. "You should watch your tongue, urchin, lest someone remove it." Although she couldn’t move her head to see, the caress of steel along her throat made her mind go into overdrive scheming.

That feeling, it was familiar. It was like the smooth touch of her father's knives that she had come to loathe. She knew that her Splinter Pistol was only half a metre away, resting on the floor but as the man let her face free Xel'syth realised that she did not need it. Even if she had gone for it she was sure that her fear would have stifled her. "I'm... I'm not an assassin... Sir." She emphasised the last part bitterly.

A look of puzzlement crossed his face for half an instant, followed by an actual interest in the girl. "You set up this ambush all by yourself?"

She studied the smiling man’s face intently, realising that the thoughts or murder had briefly abated. "Maybe I did, what is it to you?" She remained calm and un-hostile. If he wanted her dead then he would have ordered the Scourge to shred her to ribbons by now.

"I seem to be running into all sorts of interesting children today..." saw the Scourge’s hand move in what she had guessed was some form of unspoken language, though the movements were all so rapid that she could not begin to make any of the figures out. The smiling man reached into the Scourge’s belt and withdrew a Pistol before the Scourge released her and before she could turn he was in the air. The smiling man put the barrel of the Blast Pistol between her eyes making her heart race. In one flowing movement he flicked it down and presented the Pistol’s grip to her "Since you like to ambush people there are three adults and one child running toward this alley this very moment. If you wish to save your own life, kill the adults and spare the child. If you manage that, I may actually have some work for you..."

Even though she was new to this world, her mind cold to the stimulus of cold blooded murder her soul burnt for the new experience and the sensations it would bring. Also, she didn't feel that she had much choice. Accepting the pistol she smiled with an expression of fear mixed with glee.

Vayr'kala curled up to sleep facing the stranger. Something in the familiarity of the place, watched over by her father's memories, made her relaxed enough to rest here. Not to trust, that would be foolish, but the combination of exhaustion from the adrenaline surge earlier and the calming effect of being in a 'safe' house - so far as anywhere in the Dark City could be called safe - allowed her to drift into a sleep so deep, she didn't hear the young man break in.

Instead, she was awakened by a piercing shriek, the sound alerting her instantly to danger. Vayr'kala sat bolt upright, instinctively reaching for her knife, but for some reason she froze. Maybe it was the newcomer's glittering eyes, cold and full of a fearsome intelligence as he crouched over them, as if he might pounce instantly on either one. Perhaps it was something she recognised, some fleeting glimpse of him before but if so the girl couldn't bring it to mind. Vayr'kala knew that he shouldn't be here, but what if that wasn't true? What if he was also allowed to use the safe places? At any rate, he knew how to get into this one quiety, so why hadn't he killed them both? Confused, but also mesmerised, she listened as he spoke:

“Hello you two, that was quite a display. I applaud your bravado. A friend who works for me on occasion said I could find you here...

In these dark streets, you know how to stay alive, it would seem, you're smarter than most of the rabble that ends up here, and because of that, I am going to make you an offer.

One day, in the distant future, I will call upon you for a task, and you will use every resource at your disposal to help me. In return, I will set you upon the path to rise out of these filthy streets, and go as far as your ruthlessness and cunning will take you.” He smiled as he spoke, as if there was some great joke only he understood but that he was willing to let them in on, for a price. “So, comrades, what do you say?”

Vayr'kala paused before speaking. There was a lot to take in here, and she wasn't at all sure he could be believed. He sounded a bit like Indren when he was trying to tell her about the house full of people with a lot of friends. A little bit of truth, and a whole lot of window dressing. He might just be trying to trick them into doing what he wanted. She didn't lke the sound of unspecified future favours, either. She glanced across at Orthien and said, with more confidence than she felt,

"Getting out of the streets, that sounds good. But we're smart enough to know that we won't get anything good without a lot in return. What do you want us to do? Because you're clever, so I think you know what it is you want in the future or you wouldn't know we could be helpful for it.

And who is your friend?

I say ... tell us ... tell us a bit more about it, and what we can have, and we'll decide if we want to work with you."

Was that how adults did these things? Because she had a feeling she was going to have to grow up even more, and very fast.

The mirth drained away from the mans face, but his smile remained, his cold, calculated smile. Only in his eyes could Vayr'kala read his desire to lash out at her.

"You ask many questions girl, which is good. It shows a brightness, a desire to understand your surroundings, and a distrust in others. All of which are more than useful in these dark streets. But sometimes girl, you must chance your fate on a whim. I could have killed you both 10 times over by now. Letting your guard down because you presume you are safe, quite sloppy.

But, girl, I didn't. Because I can use both of you. With the right assistance, you can have a spire of your own, one day, I think you are capable of such, together. Without assistance, you will likely find yourself at the end of a knife, or worse...

As for my friend... Well... I prefer to keep those in my employee anonymous... It does seem to keep the cost of health insurance down, as it were..."

"...Letting your guard down because you presume you are safe, quite sloppy."

It was at this precise point that Vayr'kala, a child with few resources, little in the way of skills because of her youth and still less experience decided that she had two choices. Neither of them were to trust this man. That would be stupid: he couldn't be trusted. He could be lying, but then he could have killed them in their sleep. Or so he said. Even a child like Vayr'kala knew that most predators in the Dark City wanted to see their prey understand that it was dying. But that still left two options. She and her new friend could go with him, or try to jump him and see if they could kill him together. Since there was no way to make sure she could communicate the decision to kill him to the boy without him knowing, she chose to go with him.

But she also felt something else. She might have to work with him, for now. But she also didn't like him, she didn't like the way he talked to her and she was very angry that he'd barged into her father's house. even if if was only a place to rest up while on the run. So she hid the feeling away for now, for later, for the time she had the chance to do something better.

"All right," she said, "I'll help you. I'm not sure why you need my help. I'm only 26. But all right." She turned to Orthien. "What do you think? Let's stick together, whatever we do." She managed a little bit of a smile to the boy with that last statement. Whoever he was, they'd got this far without him, and for some reason she didn't know but understood must be important, he'd asked them instead of ordering them at gunpoint.

The mirth returned to the young mans eyes.

"Well, as it seems you two have formed a friendship, I'll just assume that things will run their course, and young sir, since you seem to be speechless in my presence, I'll let you two discuss your plans in private..."

The smiling man reached behind him and pulled forth a hitherto hidden case.

"Inside you shall find 10,000 soul chits. A one time payment for future services rendered. If you use it wisely, it can take you far on these streets. I'll be keeping a close eye on you. If you do well, future financing may be much more generous... I think you'll do well..."

The young man turned around and started to climb out of the safe house. Just before he disappeared from view he looked Orthien in the eye.

"You would be wise to find a trustworthy arms dealer and a few persons whom you can trust when your back is turned. Also, sleep in watches, it's safer that way..."

The hatch closed as the smiling man disappeared from view...

Vayr'kala accepted the container of soul chits with a small nod. Then, to be certain he'd really gone and wasn't just hanging around the alleyway to laugh at them some more, she watched him go until he was right out of sight.

Orthien knelt on the thin mat Vayr'kala had provided him to shield from the cold floor of the safe house, his legs aching beneath him as he prepared for a night of rest. He planned to rest, half asleep, half awake yet being nether. It was a trick he had learned many years ago in his training with Master Ix'Yavas to restore the body but keeping the mind alert to your surroundings. It had proved very useful in keeping him alive this far.
That had been the plan, but the effects of the day had taken greater toll than he had thought. As he knelt beside the girl his conscious mind began to waver and he could no longer stave off the deep sleep his body was craving. He lay down on the matting keeping his last waking eye on the girl who looked to be already asleep beside him. He could not fully trust her but he would have to hope that what trust he had given would hold true through the night. With that he slipped into the darkness of slumber.

Orthien awoke to a feeling of unease. Glancing around the room it became obvious what had cause him to rise from his sleep as his still focusing eyes landed on the shape of a man sitting at the foot of the mats.
He let out a cry of surprise but his throat, still dry from sleep failed him, instead letting out a cracked and screeching noise. He cleared his throat and looks to Vayr'kala, it might not have been quite what he would have intended but it woke her none the less.

Seeing the two of them awake the man began to speak. Orthien sat in silence as the man offered his proposition and then still as Vayr'kala barraged him with questions. She seemed to be asking everything that needed to be spoken, he had other questions and requests forming in his mind but knew that this man would not answer to any of them, not yet. He instead used his time to watch the man and see what information he could gleam as he was distracted slightly by Vayr'kala's questions.

The man guarded any secrets well and it became very obvious that he had been at this game a long time and should never be trusted. Not everything could be hidden though and despite his stylish facade of clothing and smirk he could not hide his base nature. The longer Orthien watched him the more sure he was the this man was born of these very streets, trash like those Orthien had seen slaughtered the day previous. This made him all the more dangerous, to escape this place as a being of no standing into a position like this took a very special kind of man, a kind of man you do not want to be enemy's with. As he handed a case of Soul Chits to Vayr'kala Orthien thought that as dangerous as he might be, this was probably the best kind of person to get them off the streets, provided they were smart enough to no let him get the better of them.

He hated having been caught with his guard so down but now as he looked over at Vayr'kala he smiled eying the case of Soul Chits, they had a way out, he had a way out.
He spoke to her with a smirk of his own, "We need to go shopping".

As Vash sprinted down the alley, a much anticipated explosion rang out behind him, followed by a womans shriek. It sounded as though Myylindra had got her just deserts, though that helped him less than little. As The Steel Rat sprinted he had two choices. A larger more open road, where he could possibly blend in with the crowd, or a smaller alley where, were he forced to fight, no more than two of these thugs could get at him at a time. The choice was simple. Trusting his meager skill with a blade, he took off down the alley. Five paces told him that this alley had recently seen another battle. Another five paces, and Nock'felyas shriek, told him that it would see battle again this day...

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Xel'syth returned to the trash and the body that had formed her ambush point. Now she too could hear the footsteps as they moved closer to her direction. An explosion sounded. Whoever this person running to her position was, they were not to be underestimated, it would seem. As she lay still and breathless, the footsteps echoed ever closer. Then, a boy, around her own age emerged into view. His lean, muscular form, and agile movements, even for one of the dark kin, impressed her. He was no more than ten paces into the alley when the adults came into view, and Xel'syth took aim at the woman in front who appeared to be wearing a mask. The look in the boys eyes told Xel'syth the he knew he was in trouble, but there was a ferocity there, and she knew that he would fight until he was killed. “Well, let's see if we can prevent that...” Xel'syth said silently, with no thought whatsoever of anything but her own preservation... (Cav, I need 5 sets of dice decisions from you (even/odd OR high/low)

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Vayr'kala and Orthien sat staring at each other. Plans raced through each of their heads, the best of those reaching their lips. Fortune, it would seem, had smiled upon them today. As they discussed how best to use this donation, an explosion echoed in the distance. Moments later the distinct sound of gunfire sounded just outside. As breathless moments passed, the smell of ozone seeped into their hiding place...

Judging by the shriek they were only a handful of paces behind him and had probably seen him enter the alley which meant not only would they be on his trail but they would be looking for his grey robe. He had to work fast. His eyes took in the alley as he ran, noting the layout and considering possibilities.

The half overturned crate with the small ledge above it was the best bet. His cloak was pulled off as he ran and he jammed it into the crate, rotating the metal canister so it faced away from the alley entrance Nock'felya's hired muscle would enter from. He allowed just the hint of the robe to trail out from the backside, allowing a careful observer to note where the escaped slave had undoubtedly hidden in ambush.

He then sprang upward, wiry fingers grabbing at the bottom edge of the blackened metal ledge, pulling himself up into the shadows and out of sight. He unslung his sickle blade, pulling it into position as he pressed himself into his hiding place.

If he was lucky he could kill one of them unaware, and leave the battle odds a bit more in his favor. Or, though he doubted it, maybe they'd be dumb enough to miss the ambush and just keep running. In either case, he was ready for anything...

She had not been left with much time to resume her position on the ground, in her ambush point, before her targets came into sight. Even though she was crouched in the shadows and knew that she was safe from any conventional predator she feared because of her aim. If she missed there would be a trio of adults barrelling down on her shortly to gain vengeance, let alone the razor sharp talons of the Scourge above.

Taking a deep breath she extended her arm an aimed down the sight. The aim wavered between the man at the front of the pursuing party and the child, a target that Xel’syth certainly did not want to hit.

Smiling was the only thing that she could think to do to stop the shaking, but even that did not help when the shots were fired. The deep snap of the shots cracked through the street as the first of the barrage met a wall. It was an inexcusable mistake, but at least now she had something to correct her aim from. The next shot hit a masked pursuer who let off a high pitched cry like a trapped Razorwing. The tone of the person’s voice instantly let on that it was a woman.

She didn’t care to dwell on it, or savour it, as her next shot created a perfect chasm between the eyes of a ritually scarred man, most likely of Hellion descent. The next moment flew by as Xel’syth closed her eyes tight and fired randomly. The next shot flew millimetres past the young boy’s head, singing his hair. The final shot put an end to it all.

Upon opening her eyes the last man, yet again adorned with Hellion gang scars, had met his fate in the form of a blast hole in the heart. The boy stood, staring and stunned while his singed hair smouldered in the Commorrite dark.

Vayr'kala thought they'd talked out a good compromise: save some of the money for kitting themselves out with things that would help them to survive, first of all, and then use some of the rest to provide things for others. Not an act of charity, this, but a calculated move that might help them to get others on their side. No-one survives for long in the Dark City alone. If they could find some other people like themselves, some of the sharper streetwise children, then maybe they could forge some bonds between them, start to build a foundation for a group of their own. Vayr'kala nodded as Orthien made his suggestions about what kind of equipment they'd need, her mind already racing.

The discussion was interrupted by the sound of gunfire. Instinctively, Vayr'kala looked for cover, then remembered that she was inside. Silently, she made a small motion to Orthien to stay where he was and crept up to the door. Making certain that it was secure she prepared to drag a box over to stand on that she could use to see out of the viewport. The simple spyhole was a tiny lens in an otherwise overlookable part of the door, set in at an adult's eye height. She set to moving the box as quietly as she could.

Unfortunately, quiet meant slow. More shots rang out, and screaming. Vayr'kala's breath caught in her throat when she made a small noise against the floor, scraping the concrete, but really it was lost in the sounds of battle. She hopped up onto the box and put her eye to the spyhole.

There had been three adults in the alleyway, crowding forward to seize another child; she could tell this by the bodies. The third was just falling to the floor a shot ringing out from another small figure on the ground, partly obscured by another body - well hidden from the front, less so from her loftier viewpoint. Using as much as she could of the silent body-language communication all Eldar know, Vayr'kala beckoned Orthien over and explained what she could see. Orthien listened, then nudged his way onto the makeshift viewing platform and took a look for himself.

"That girl, she might be the kind of one we're looking for." Vayr'kala conveyed. "And she shot them and not him, so maybe they're together already. But we don't have any of our equipment yet. And we can't let them know what we've got. They'd try to take it off us." She bit her lip in indecision.

"What do you think? She's a good shot, and I've only got this knife."

Orthien spoke quickly. “I have a plan”. He moved over to the poor quality holo-recorder.

“To the individuals who receive this, please meet us in 18 hours, 6 blocks towards Black Heart then 2 blocks towards the Silver Arena. Look for two of the kin your age, a male and a female. If you're smart enough to find us, we may have a good proposition for you. In good faith, we leave you 1000 soul-chits to do with as you please.”

Orthien motioned Vayr'kala to the back door, kicked open the front hatch, turned, and ran...

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Xel'syth stood up, keeping the pistol honed on the boy.

Vash stared at Xel'syth, a swath of his hair slightly smoking, the knife held ready to attack, his muscles twitching in anticipation of leaping clear of a shot.

As the tension reached the boiling point, a hatch swung open between the two...

Orthien's foot connected hard against the hatch which gave out a slight grown as it swung open before him. No doubt the two outside will have noticed it but he was already halfway across the room and would be long gone before they looked inside.

As he ran through the back door once again into the alleys of Commorragh he spotted Vayr'kala standing in the shadows not far from him. Quickly he moved in case someone should be watching, and moved past her and around the corner.
"We will need a place to spend these" she said motioning towards the remaining Soul Chits. "Somewhere that won't ask to many questions about how two as young as ourselves came to acquire them".
"I know just the place" he said. "Follow me".

Orthien lead her through the twisting maze of alleys, occasionally pausing to catch his bearings until he reached an area far more familiar too him. It was not long after that, that they reached their destination.
It was a moderate size shop for the area but its location in the back alleys kept it somewhat more secluded.

They opened the door and immediately were faced with smell of dust, mold and armor. The place looked like it had seen many better days, yet ignoring the worried look on Vayr'kala's face Orthien stepped inside.
No sooner had they passed into the dark interior of the shop were they greeted by a withered husk of a being. "Orthien!" he exclaimed. "I told you last time. I don't care what your plan, I am not going to give you anything for free. I need those souls just as much as you need anything your after"
Orthien smiled as he lifted the bag onto the nearest table. "You're in luck then."

After brief introductions the three of them began going over the short list of weapons and armor the two sort.
"Despite the look of my shop, I can assure you my stock is of the highest quality" the shopkeeper spoke as he looked at the still worried expression on the girls face.
Orthien simply nodded in agreement.
He continued, "I have all of this here for you, but this custom work you're after will take me a few hours.""I believe you know somewhere nearby you can wait."
Again Orthien nodded.
"Come back to me before you rest tonight and I should be finished them"

After handing over the 7600 soul chits to pay for their goods Orthien lead Vayr'kala to the near by tavern to await the remainder of the equipment and where Vayr'kala could don her new armor and weapons.

Vayr'kala looked around the dusty shop with a wide-eyed air of interest and already, in one so young, a certain touch of scepticism. The place didn't look up to much. But then, she reasoned, anywhere in this part of town that looked plush and fancy would have been ransacked long ago.

As she looked around, Orthien got to work bargaining for the things they'd need. He seemed to know the old man, who was withered to the point of almost frightening the girl. She'd heard tales of the Parched. The Hunger got so deep with some that it made them desperate, driven to any act. With a little shiver she reasoned that this couldn't be one of them; he was quite approachable, really, and anyway he didn't look ugly enough, though it did appear that a Haemunculous had at his face at some point in the distant past. Reaching into a case behind his counter, he started the bidding.

"I'll tell you what, you pay 400 chits for this serpentin, and I'll toss in some black fungus poison for 200 ..."

Orthien had some quite specific ideas in mind, and the merchant seemed to warm to the task of haggling for them. She perched on one of the display cases while the two of them sorted out the details. In her own way, Vayr'kala was trying to watch and learn; she'd never had to buy anything herself.

When the time came to get fitted for the armour she would need, and so desperately wished was red like her father's, she was content and involved enough to let the old man advise her on what would work best.

"Despite the look of my shop, I can assure you my stock is of the highest quality" the shopkeeper spoke as he looked at the still worried expression on the girl's face. Vayr'kala nodded. She was getting used to the shadowy walls and forgotten racks of exotic items, but her eyes still darted to the corners now and then. She picked out a splinter rifle with red decoration and a subtle crimson patterning in the material of the stock. In her hands it was large and somewhat unwieldy, but she knew she wanted something with a bit more punch than a knife. At the back of her mind, magnificent wings beat in a sky full of darklight beams ... but this would be a start. She took a small pack of three plasma grenades too, having a feeling - nothing definite, but sure - that they might be useful.

Orthien simply nodded in agreement.

He continued, "I have all of this here for you, but this custom work you're after will take me a few hours.I believe you know somewhere nearby you can wait." He handed Vayr'kala the small suit he'd found in one of the copious baskets and boxes that lined the back of the store. Old and delicate-looking, the armour was light and strong in actual fact, though dulled and dusty like the shop - or its owner. Still, with a bit of care it would soon be just what she needed. He'd even given her a small tin of polish for a very reasonable price. Or so he said.

Again Orthien just nodded, the unspoken understanding between them told of a previous business relationship.

"Come back to me before you rest tonight and I should be finished them."

With this they both made their way from the almost-forgotten shop, each keeping an alert eye out for trouble. The tavern the shopkeeper had suggested had a similarly worn-out air, the kind of place the lesser races would come after shift, or the really down at heel Ynneas Eladrith. Like, she realised with a small sigh, themselves. Still, underneath, she was bubbling with excitement. Hugging the wrappings for her new purchases tightly to her chest while Orthien got them something to eat, she swiped a booth seat for them and while he started to eat, she slipped off to change into her new armour.

Waiting until she had the solitude she wanted, Vayr'kala twisted and wriggled her unpracticed way into the Kabalite suit. It was small enough to fit her, too small for a warrior, so she decided it must have belonged to someone's daughter. In no time at all it was the first suit made for a Kabalite princess two thousand years ago, and looking in the cracked and age-spotted mirror, she certainly felt the part. Bundling up the rest of her things she rejoined Orthien and began to eat. She was suddenly aware of just how hungry she was. It was a short wait until they could collect the rest of the gear, and then she would need to have her wits about her. No sense in being distracted by an empty stomach.

Vash's steel grey eyes flicked up to regard a burning strand of his hair and then returned to the girl with the pistol.

They flickered again as the door was kicked open, a shadowy figure inside darting away from it.

Vash frowned.

He had never had a lot of luck with coincidences.

"The only reason I'm not hurling a knife at you right now is because I'm pretty certain your aim is actually that bad." He dropped down from his perch and glanced down the alley at the smoking corpses. "That said, you did just rob me of a chance to settle a very important debt myself." He readied his kama with a flick of his wrist even as he continued to slowly walk in closer to the girl. He didn't have any throwing knives handy, and if things went bad he felt more comfortable trying to dodge in from close range than far, she was a terrible shot but she only needed to be accurate once, and he would likely have only one chance to slash her throat open.

"Who are you, why did you help me, and who are your friends inside?"

As Orthien and Vayr'kala sat awaiting the rest of their order, eating food that tasted better than any before in their lives, for the fact that they had purchased it themselves, a child approached. The girl, who appeared to be only 14 or 15 gave off a delicious, subtle hint of suffering, no doubt from starvation. Orthien recognized her as part of the group he had fled shortly before the hellion attack. The look in her eye told him she knew who he was as well.

“YOU! When I saw you run, I hid. I know something bad is about to happen, when one of the most vicious children leave. But, where did you get the money for this food? Who's your friend?” A malevolent smirk appeared on the girls face. “She has nice armor, we should take it from her and sell it. And her gun! That would feed us for awhile! Or if she's some noble, maybe we could ransom her back to her kabal...”

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The blast pistol fell from Xel'syths grasp, the weight of her first kill bearing down on her. She stared at the maniacal looking child advancing on her, intent on her blood.

“I... I... I...” She stammered as Vash drew his blade. The boys snarled question brought her senses back to her, and her trueborn nature snapped out a response before she fully realized the danger she was in. “I just saved your life, urchin, and I think you should show a little gratitude, else I shall feed you to a fiend.”

The look in Vashs eyes told her that she was too late. He had caught scent of her momentary weakness.

Vayr'kala had to admit, she'd been hungry. She knew that the money had to last for a while, so she resisted the temptation to go for the most expensive item on the menu and chose something satisfying. Just as she was tucking into this, a small mouthful of some kind of bird meat on her chopsticks, her alert senses picked up the approach of some kind of street urchin to their table.

She glanced at Orthien; it was plain the girl knew him, and he looked as if she were known to him as well. Vayr'kala's eyes narrowed. Was there an alliance between the two? She thought back quickly. No; that made no sense. If he'd wanted to gang up against her he could have done it at any time in the shop, since he clearly knew the owner there and she was much bigger than this scraggly little brat. Vayr'kala leaned forward slightly, resting her hand gently on top of Orthien's hand. She didn't want to so far as to take it, he might need his hands free, she just wanted to show that there was solidarity between them.

"You little starveling, what makes you think you have any right to speak to him like that? Look at it like this. Who would you rather work with? Someone like me, who's got the brains to get armour like this, or some street urchin?" She sat back a little, her hands hovering ready to draw a knife or her new gun if she had to. She didn't think she would, but you could never tell. It was almost possible to hear the girl's stomach rumbling anyway, so concentration wouldn't be easy for her until she got food. Desperate people do desperate things, but Vayr'kala had a plan.

"Now how about you listen instead of talking?" She glanced over at Orthien, then back to the girl. "You aren't stupid. You've got a plan and you want to survive. All right, you chose the wrong target, but you're still smarter than the rest. You hid, and then you came here."

"We work together, that's why we're strong. We're looking for others to work with us. Smart people. We can make sure you don't have to starve, and we can get you shelter. But you'll have to show us you can be trusted."

Vayr'kala paused. In the back of her mind, she could see the dim future starting to unfold, like a ladder leading to the heavens where she had beautiful angel wings of her own. She pointed to a stool at one of the other tables.

"I have an idea. What about you bring that over and tell us about what you can do while you eat?"