Shattered Minds

Greetings my fellow Commorrites. So it's been almost a year since I've posted anything here, life has a funny way of getting in the way with such. But I am back, and presenting you with a story no less. I do plan to add onto it, so please enjoy. As an artist, Critiques are always welcome.

Chapter 1: A step into madness

In the depths of the city of Commorragh, a lone Venom transport veered through
one of the many labyrinths that made up the artificial waterway delta, staying fast and
low as it hugged along the main canal which would eventually bleed out into the river
Khaïdes. Thankfully for the passengers, their destination was not anywhere near there.

Atop of the Venom four warriors rode, all in gleaming amethyst armor, 3 of which
kept watch around them, their eyes piercing the shadows of the obsidian towers, yet one
was calm and relaxed, his helmet off and held to his hip as he grinned, the chill wind
flowing through his short cut crimson hair as he continuously spied the small satchels of
ransom that dangled from every belt, including his own. “So Holbes, what do you know
of this haemonculus we’re going to pay off?” The helmeted warrior turned his head in
kind to the other direction, trying to ignore him. “We all know that it s probably for the –
great and all powerful- Archon’s new vanity project.” His grin widened as he saw the
subtle shifts in his fellow’s shoulders as they chuckled at the mere notion.
In a somber voice the nearby warrior remarked “Still, Calvynth, it isn’t our place,
not –yet- at least, to judge the spending of the Archon of the Fettered Rose… But to
answer you’re question, it is one from the Coven of the Shattered.”
“Tsk Tsk Holbes, if you aren’t on your feet, you won’t survive to be the next
daring and dashing Hierarch…” he posed rather lewdly on the railing as they passed by a
few wretched souls and squatters that looked on from behind a small ledge that separated
the walkway to the acidic soup that was the canal. Holbes simply shock his head at him
before raising a gauntleted finger towards a landing pad around 100 yards away, clearly
marked with the sigil of the Shattered, that of a broken rune circle as if a fine china plate
was dropped onto the hard surface of the floor.

As the Venom neared, it drove over to the only empty of the 3 dais that marked the
parking for clientele and visitors. As it came to a stop, a small disruption field encased
the vessel, enveloping it in such a way it distorted the coloration and markings of the
craft, lest the vehicle be a sitting duck from potential rivals seeking a quick kill. As a
group they left off the back of the Venom, Calvynth leading the way with his ‘charming
personality’, they strode straight up to the nearby door, the entrance blocked by the
shambling gait of a Wrack, a simplified version of the Shattered coven’s symbol clearly
emblazoned on its otherwise empty azure mask. Around its neck hung a sign made of
flayed skin, well tanned with the words ‘5 Soul shils or equal barter accepted’ clearly
shown. The hulk of flesh straightened posture as they approached, raising its right
clawed hand with a simple black box with a small slit on the top towards the group, as in
a guttural voice it spoke deeply, “Toooolll”. Calvynth didn’t even blink at the box as he
gazed into the face of the servant, his eyes focused on the pupils of his opponent…well,
at least where he presumed them to be. In his nonchalant voice he spoke equivocally to
the beast, “We have an appointment to keep with your master, you understand yes?”
There was no physical reply from the wrack, just a constant simplified focus as it said in
its gravelly voice once again, “Toooolll”. Calvynth shifted slightly as he tried to not
appear to show any weakness with others of his Kabal around, retorting to the simple
drone “Get your master, he’s expecting payment…-now-” In a rather boneheaded move
he raised his hand past the head of his opponent’s as he pointed towards the door, only to
have the curved hook of the wrack’s free hand press against his armored chest.
“Toooolll” it said once more, this time in a moodier, growling tone. Calvynth furrowed
his brow at the faceless one his mouth twisting in angst as his mind conjured of spilling
this worthless beast’s guts on the walkway floor would be worth the provocation, but not
a millisecond later had several coins been dropped into the box by Holbes, paid from his
own salary satchel. The wrack shook the box slightly, hearing the jingling of the coins
clashing with one another before withdrawing his arms and stepping fully aside, tapping
the door with its hooked hand several times. Shortly afterwards the armored portcullis
groaned open, rolling aside to reveal the dim lit hallway inside. “As much as I would love
to watch you get torn apart by the doorman, it is worth keeping you around –just- to see
the look on your face.” Holbes laughed underneath his helmet, as did the other two
guards. Rather infuriated at being embarrassed, he stormed inside first with the others
following pursuit, as the door rolled back with a clank, the guard resting once again on it.


Once inside, the troupe was lead down a set of stairs that hugged the green
plastered wall of the facility, the passage lit by dim source stones that casted an orange
haze, showing various graffiti on the wall. Some were glorifications of a Kabal’s recent
exploit, others were distinct coordinates in a nearby red light district for a ‘good time’.
Yet all of that changed once they arrived to the main corridor. 3 doors, like the one
before, were placed in front, to the left, and to the right. Calvynth couldn’t help but feel
agitated as he peered through a tinted window of the middle door, spying through the
dusty grated glass to see quite a number of Kabalites from the Sundering Eclipse,
cheering on from a recent raid, gloating about which kill was the best as they placed bets
on the table in front of them before reviewing recent footage on a hololith display, their
targets seeming to be Mon-Keigh in power armor with the symbols of some kind of
canine emblazoned on their shoulder pads. He growled under his breath as he pulled back
as another of the coven’s wrack opened the entrance to his right, bowing before them as it
motioned for them to follow. Down they went, further into the bowels of this facility,
their armored heels softly clanking with the slight rusted grate mesh floor below. With
the same devilish smirk he gleaned down into the depths, seeing past at least seven other
grated floors below. He was surprised when he checked into the abyss below, to see 3
pairs of fiercely bright viridian pupils stare back.

After a while of maneuvering past various small rooms and corridors, they
arrived at a rather large room that seemed an anathema to the rest of the facility. The
walls were pure as a white pearl, various blades and tools arranged from sizes and use,
the tiled floor completely clean of any detritus. This truly was a lair of one who sought
absolute control in a world of anarchy. However, the group easily spotted the one oddity
that stuck out like a Wych in a festival of delights, the lone figure dressed in a sleek black
attire, wrapped around the lithe frame from the ankles to the collarbone of its owner that
contrasted with her soft alabaster skin of the neck and face, her deep green hair tied in a
fine long ponytail that trailed along her spine to her hips. The supple hands of hers played
along the flesh of an unknown creature, tracing over nearby instruments scattered nearby.
Like a painter with a canvass, she cut, sliced, and measured the biological masterpiece.
That was, until Calvynth interrupted. With a step that was a skip on a record player to her
ears, she hid her flinch from the interruption. With the reflection from the fine tuned
instruments she could see the upstart as it walked towards her, chest pressed forward with
weaning pride. It spoke brazenly in her home with a boastful arrogance, until it
mentioned the Archon of the Fettered Rose’s ‘payment’. As it still drew breath, she
reached over to a nearby item of little worth, a simple weapon of the Mon Keigh. In one
elegant move she brought the weapon to bear on the upstart, squeezing the trigger of what
they called an autopistol, a big bang interrupting the speaker as it sent a single lump of
curved metal through the thigh of the warrior, splintering past his armor as it wedged into
his flesh. Without a care she tossed the weapon to the side as her Wrack pinned down the
injured Kabalite, his curses and threats meaningless upon her tapered ears. Eloquently she
spoke, causing those nearby to pause.
“Such… noise, it must be thrilling for those primitives to feel this go in their hands, such
a simple view of power, yet so clumsy and random. Be grateful I missed, it seems your
femoral arteries are still intact.”
She glanced over to the other Kabalites, who hesitantly kept their hands by their
splinter pistols, as she gestured with a hand to the nearby counter. “Please darlings there
is no need to worry. The Archon’s payment only required one member from your group
and the soul shils that you have brought me. And, since this one was so kind to volunteer,
you may go if you wish, or stay and watch my performance, since one of you did pay my
entrance fee.” The two standing warriors grinned at each other through their mask as one
stepped forward to the one in pain as he whispered something to the former loudmouth,
something about better chances of becoming a daring and dashing Hierarch. She didn’t
care in the least.

It hadn’t been too long since her new subject passed out. This made it a lot easier
for her menials to carry the thing down to the new home she had aside just for such a gift.
Time was a precious resource, as every cycle every hour someone wanted something
from her, or of her, whether it be her services (that she sets as reputable and justified
prices of course) ranging from growing a newborn, to bringing a fallen back to life. The
latter was quite enjoyable, after all, every artist loves to have their work shown, and she
rather loved the thrill of all those without the choice having to see the skillful display of
agony and despair, her audience being Eladrith Ynneas or otherwise. But before an artist
could ever bring about art, she had to make sure her tools were properly attuned before
she could add such wonderful masterpieces to her gallery.

It was a short trip to bring her new prize down to the sanctum below, shorter still
as the other Kabalites seemed somewhat more eager to leave. A quick jaunt down the
grav-lift, and she was in the wide, dark caverns underneath. Such a wondrous place that
easily contradicted the surface laboratories above, it was like walking inside the hollowed
out bones of the ancient beast that Commorragh sat upon and grew fat like a parasite
from the remains compared to the crystalline labyrinth of spires, each a strand of hair that
was sculpted and shaped to the whim of its masters to be different and better then the rest.
Down here, it was her world, and it was glorious. She could hear the moans and cries of
those in the chambers easily as she stepped forth in a stride, the orbs of light generating a
constant white glow through the walkway, illuminating the curved bone walls yet also
keeping the constant of darkness around as to deny any real hope for those that came to
her parlor. Her world, yet still responsibilities take precedence.

In the grand domed hall that connected all the corners of this hollow was the main
resurrection center. Stacked next and on top of each other in concentric circles were
caskets, all of them marked for simplicity’s sake, most carrying the various remains to be
reanimated back into full individuals. It was an odd cycle the Kabals lived, at least from
her viewpoint. But, why question that which you can enjoy? With that notion in her head
she walked over to the main control desk, its top curved surface covered in intricate runes
that shimmered like the stars in the night sky in the full material world. With the press of
one she smiled, as a hovering operating table, full of accoutrements by its sides, was
summoned forth into the center of the hall. And it had a guest on top of it! She smiled
with delight as at first glance was a teal puffball curled up on the flat pillow, but she
knew better. With care she approached it, her hand reaching out to lightly graze along the
fine crystalline hairs. A small chitter came from the creature as it unrolled itself, as 4
pairs of legs unfurled from beneath the fuzz, 6 bulbous eyes peering from the sockets as
it looked up at her. Barely the size of her hand, it flittered into consciousness. It froze for
a moment, but soon crawled forth, rubbing against her hand for affection. Such
adorability held quite a lot of danger, after all, or it wouldn’t be allowed down here. With
a subtle gesture of her posture, she signaled her menials to bring forth the new occupant
and test subject. The lifted him up, his feet barely dragging along the ground as she let
the spiderling walk into her hand. With but a simple thought on her mind she tossed the
young creature straight at the prisoner’s leg! With a squeal it instinctively balled up, the
hairs becoming sharp as diamond as it stuck, impaled around the open wound, the toxins
pumping from the hollow veins in the hairs into the pores of the Eladrith Ynneas, causing
him to wake and howl immediately in pain. It was at this moment she pondered if her
menials bothered to remove the metal slug from his thigh or if she would have to
amputate, the nature of the toxin coursing through his body had a tendency to cauterize
then crystallize the point of impact. Was a quaint defensive trait the tox-arachnids
had...what did the Mon-Keigh call them? Ah yes, Dread weavers. Quite a fascinating
primitive choice to label such a thing, but appropriate in the least. As the new subject was
now quite awake, he was moved to the operating table, his arms and wrists shackled to
his sides by raw black iron, shortly followed by his knees and ankles. The menials
quickly dispatched with the Kabalite armor and any clothing underneath, leaving him
fully bare to the chill of the misty air that ventilated down here. As if on queue, a dozen
more menials dredged forth from the shadows towards their mistress, all awaiting orders.
“Ah, it is nice to have such obedient dredges in my service,” she purred. “Prep him for
the growth; I think I know just what to do with him.” She walked away, further into the
depths of the hollow, the only sound following her was the slight skittering of 8 legs on
the floor.

I only read the first chapter as my eyes are really not agreeing with the format. If you perhaps connected the lines to form full sentences and split them as paragraphs it would be easier to manage.

I liked how you set the scene, however. It had some good description.

Edited it without double spaces. It is a habit I am stuck with for years, didn't know if such would fit well here.

I very much enjoyed your Haemonculus. From her sense of absolute dominion over her realm to her sentimental fondness for her toxic little plaything, she captures their mindset extremely well.

I'd like to see more!

If my plans in college come to fruition, I might be able to animate some of this/turn the Facility into 3D. But, I'll probably draw 'she who isn't named yet' first.

In which case I fully endorse your college plans! I often wish I could bring what's in my head to life. Well, pehaps not quite to life, but you see what I mean

At my school, it is rather required to get a passing grade.

A new Update, Chapter 2. For future reference, I will try to add more to the story when time allows. Once I get Path of the Renegade, I might have a better understanding of the great society that is Commorragh.

Chapter 2: Rememberance

She smiled as she took in the wailing of prisoners, locked inside special rooms and cells, cold metal barricades locking various sections of the caverns into pits of torment and often isolation save but the screams of assorted xeno languages and dialects. ‘It is amazing what such familiar chambers can do to some of these Mon Keigh’ she mused, having styled a good portion of the cells and chambers based on ancient steel, stone, and rocrete that the humans were fond of housing their fellows. Occasionally for her amusement, or to help speed up a particular set of resurrections that were urgent, she would let them fight in their own mini gladiatorial spectacles. Considering the variety of specimens in each cell housing, it was all but impossible for the prisoners to get along as to rebel against her. Of course, the irony of it all was those that lay dead and dying were the lucky ones. After all, only the best cuts should be fed to her darling and its children. Sometimes she wondered if it had residual telepathy, as right on cue as she thought of her, the massive entity stalked into sight, its rough and massive carapace shimmering in the light, the 6 green eyes focused on her, her gargantuan Dread weaver spider. And to think, such a loyal and obedient pet was almost wasted.


Close to a century ago

It was a rather atypical day at the Market of Malaise. Situated on several lengthy platform islands held aloft by key grav-wells, it was a viable hub of business and trade. As such, it was a patchwork of various styles of buildings. Some were but simple hovels where barkers announced the exotic wares that were in store, of spices and tastes beyond measure, while others were massive pens, auctioneers showing the fine breed of their beasts, from human slaves taken from verdant fields to be used as your whim willed to stocky xeno brutes of all sizes and shapes to be used for personal mock battles in a private arena. While there was more to be found here, from courtesan hotels to arms dealers, it was but two individuals who walked in fine black silk cloaks through the packed streets that were not the average customers. The leader of the pair strolled through the crowd; his head lent forward, his left hand clasped upon a fine ivory skull that topped an intricately carved cane, most of the symbols having been lost to the language of the Ynneas Eldarith. He walked with purpose, seemingly unafraid of any daggers and blades that were easily hidden amongst the fellows, as did the follower, her beautiful face hidden well under the cowl save but her alabaster chin and fair lips.

Today was a special day for Ryisel. As part of her tutelage under her master, she was to pick a symbol that would personify her arts, both in essence and in form. Ignoring the nearby merchants as they tried to press their wares for her to purchase, she caught up with the master haemonculus. It was odd how with other covens, you could easily tell whom was apart of the coven, namely due to the air they kept around them as they hovered off the floor, or had spinal tendrils lift them off the ground as if the dirt itself wasn’t worthy of their graces. Yet with her master, he walked amongst the commoners, blending in with his surroundings, but apart of the struggles that the grand Abstrubael Vect seemed to have imposed since his meteoric rise. A sly grin was hidden from her as they stopped in front of a recently refurbished warehouse. “My dear, I know you still have many questions about my ..techniques, but they will be answered in due time. For now, focus. Today will mark you for the rest of your life.” As she heard his words she couldn’t help but smile. He may not have been a psyker, but he did know her well.

He decided to lead her to a recent warehouse that had recently become the ownership of a recent successful Beastmaster raid. The air inside was filled with the raw stench of sweat and success mixed together with various intoxicants that were being smoked by the recently approved neophytes of the clan. Many of them kept to themselves and the new creatures they now commanded, while the pack leaders mingled with those interested in bartering. While a few of the good fight animals were quite obviously going to be kept, there was still obviously more, often times small creatures that would be used as a rare delectable treat. In one such cage that Ryisel spied was such a creature. Unlike others of its kind, its foremost legs were shorter, stubbier claws. As if that was not enough to torment the creature in the eyes of its new masters, it was also smaller then the others, a runt. Yet through its small puff ball like exterior, there was potential, much potential. She smiled at it through the barred caged as she picked it up, carrying it close.

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It was a first memory of her companion. Over the cycles it has brought much use, and produced quite a healthy brood of its own. Why, it even helped bring her first Wrack to her. The Beastman who was going to turn the poor dear into his supper later in celebration probably shouldn’t have threatened her publicly, especially with a master haemonculus standing right next to him. However, he has made quite a gracious doorman. She mused at the notions of what vile things he had planned for her, yet if he was to see the fine creature that nested right in front of her, he might have instead made a small fortune, considering it was four times the size of a regular Dreadweaver, being the size of a human tank without considering the leg span. It eyed her back from its home as the spider instinctively came forth, lowering its head into a bow. She reached out and ran her hand along its carapace. “do not fret, I know it is time to feed you once again.”

Yay! More tales of Fluffy!

I would perhaps change some of the second to last paragraph, as you've got a bit of repetition there (recent, obviously) but this is a style thing, not a grammatical error

I enjoyed seeing the thoughts of the apprentice Haemonculus and how the suffering she causes is so very everyday for her. In my opinion you have an excellent understanding of how the Shapers work. I think that this is how a lot of Haemonculi are; on the surface, very urbane and charming individuals. Not for them the gnashing and wailing spectacle. They are subtle fiends, secure in their abilities. I am looking forward to seeing how she gains her symbol and what it will be

I can explain that part actually, I was typing this late in the morning, my focus wasn't quite where it should have been. I may edit it at a later time

This is an awesome story so far, knock on wood, keep up the good work!

Chapter 3: Preparation for something grand.

Ryisel was smiling as she stepped renewed from the showers. The clean, crisp water stung with every frozen droplet that fell upon her skin as the coerced and reconciled down along her silk white skin, contrasting the smoothness with their wavy reflection as the smooth streaks fell down towards their inevitability, cursed by gravity as they plummeted from the warmth of her body. It was soothing to hear only the light pitter patter of the water resound in her ears, to hear something other then the whimpering cries and pleas, or the idle threats and curses for those destined for slaughter. She took a moment to relish the thoughts of the serenity in the obsidian black bathing chambers, as the only other things in this room were but a large mirror with which to style herself in, and a female slave youth in a silk tunic that barely hid any of her features as the small skirt was but a few inches below her waist line. While others of her race never seemed to think well of their objects, Ryisel always took care to match her slaves with proper accoutrements, as even this simple garment made and treated from the silk of her Dreadweavers was simple and elegant enough to complement the dark black blue shoulder length of hair on this youth. A sly grin caressed from her lips as with but the raise of her arm, she summoned the individual to her side. Without hesitation the female walked over as she undressed, taking the tunic she wore into her hands, patting down her mistress. There was nothing more relaxing then obedience from one’s lesser, a rarity for sure amongst the narcissistic Ynneas Eldarith. Once fully dried she took the tunic away with her, leaving the youth with a fresh one shortly before sending her back to her cell. Now that she was clean and refreshed, she could prepare for the events that awaited her.

Her master didn’t enjoy the particularities of politics that tend to engulf the affairs of the Kabals and much of the daily life of the port city. Earlier that day he had told her to prepare for an event in the near future, and prepare she did. Instead of her usual day to day lab coat, she wore a nice ensemble that would make a lhamaean blush in jealousy (if but for a moment) that flowed nicely with her figure, and a recent gift from her master, a meter and a half long bolt action rifle from the days when the Eldar as a whole could hunt anything and everything freely. A smooth bone white barrel was surrounded by finely crafted runes on the stock, and relied on the fine sight of the shooter to be properly aimed. With it was a satchel that she would wear on her hip, containing nothing but various crystals coated in fine venoms, and a few even with the dreaded virus that plagued the citizens and turned them into agonizing facsimiles of themselves. As she slung the rifle carefully onto her shoulder, her hair tied up into a fine ponytail, held together with the bones of a former comrade in arms, she marched forth into the caverns.

Prepped before her as if on the eve of a march were her minions that would accompany her on the soon to be announced trip. Menials with sharp hooked blades and pole arms stood anxiously, their bodies twitching with anticipation as they stood behind her prized Talos, his blue flesh matching well with the carapace upon his back, various chains dangling from his bladed hands and armor, ready to hold or shred any that dared to question her, as well as to properly torture the lesser for their vital life. She smiled at the blank mask on it as she knew the mind of the great wolf lord was probably howling at her, wanting to rend her limb from limb... at least, it would with what little control of sanity that she left for it. But now, it would faithfully follow her to his demise, the turret on the end of his spinal tail ready and primed for the slaughter.

With her troops prepared in front of a small webway portal generator ripe to disgorge them to anywhere the link will be made, she walked over to a nearby tower, kneeling before the obelisk as the wizened face of Master Sedarofe appeared upon the hololith. He quirked a brow as he saw her prepared, faking surprise as he eyed the formation behind her.
“Ah my dear Rysiel, it is always to see you so well prepared.”

“But of course my lord. What do you will of me?”

“I presume you have heard the Sundering Eclipse has recently launched a raid into realspace correct?”

“Yes my lord. You wish of me to join them I presume. Will...Miss Leyta be joining me?”

“Oh I don’t think so. She’s still grounded for recent events. I’m still recompensing for her letting your Fluffy loose on one of the nearby docks. Granted, the only loss of life was a few bystanders, but I still have to pay for the large plethora of slaves that were obliterated by Fluffy and its ilk.”

Rysiel couldn’t help but grin wickedly at the news, her face hidden from view. While Leyta, herself, and Sedarofe were of the same coven, and Leyta was several decades her better, she took the guise of a young child with snow white hair. Perhaps the most visible and memorable feature was the large red eyes that she had. It must have been excruciating considering the modifications made just to her skull for such to work. But, what was annoying was her extremely flamboyant and troublesome nature. She seemed to enjoy acting as a child to mess with others, and master Sedarofe knew well the rivalry between his two favorite pupils.

“Nonetheless, I believe that Archon Nero will be expecting you shortly.”

And with but a notion, the webway portal birthed into life from the wall. Rysiel bowed as she raised her hands together towards the hololith, the large holographic head nodding before turning off. She stood and walked towards the middle of the procession, a gloved right hand raising as she gave but one command, “Forward.”

Ooh, another interesting chapter! Well done!

Some pleasing visual touches with the cavalcade of minions [Though I didn't see Fluffy! :p] I caught the subtle reference to who's in the Talos too. Nice update!

Great work!

Chapter 4 Pick and choose...

The blazing orb of light once more shined down upon the gathered tribes of man as they stood at the precipice of the massive stone complex. All the tribes that had survived the harsh jagged winter arrived to give their offerings inside the black marble compound. Everyone, from young children to wizened elders knelled before the grand altar, and the massive sky ferry that majestically floated behind it. The large sails, emblazoned with the signature black sun with a sharp corona, heralded to them that the lithe and graceful sky gods had returned.

It was a grand display as the sapphire armored warriors stood aloft atop the altar, their green hairs tied in a variety of topknots, ponytails, or extended from the top of their pointed helms was the only sign of visible movement from them, until at last several gongs were struck.
The tribes folk looked on in awe as an oblong disk was formed before their eyes. It shimmered and expanded in the air, as the flat surface shimmered to life like liquid mercury. The portal convulsed as a figure stepped forth in a paradoxical outfit compared to the dark toned armored warriors around him. His teal hair draped nicely around his marble smooth face, while a pointed crown of white jutting forth above his brow,yet seemed to be apart of him then decor. His alabaster face smiled at the assembly below as he raised his armored gauntlet to the sky, holding aloft a black scepter, topped with a black marbled orb that crackled with life. As one the humans chanted the name they had been prophesied: Deu'lar, The Keeper of The Sun.

With a free hand he tugged the cloak made from the hide of a brown Velociosaur that he had slain in single combat for his amusement as he stepped forth to address the peons. With open arms he spoke aloud, his voice being amplified by hidden speakers in the nearby statuettes of himself.

“People.. Of.. Asrek. Hear Me Now! As Promised By The Grand Prophecy, I Have Returned The Light To You!”

The people cheered on the alabaster man, not knowing anything of astrology other then the experience of an annual eclipse that lasted for a full planetary rotation. Believing hearsay that was spread through human agents of another Kabal centuries ago, Nero had found an amusing pastime for himself with the promise of “slave crops” that could be harvested like cattle. But of course, such benefits couldn't go unnoticed, so a sampling portion was to be paid this very hour. But like any good Archon, he continued to play the charade like a master poker player would.

“As Per Custom Of Good Faith For Renewing Light For All, You Must Not Only Give Homage to Me..But To The Sister Darkness As Well!”
Practically on cue for the performance, the portal behind him began to form a cavalcade as hunched minions began to walk onto the grand pavilion of an altar from the slave barge. Many clutched hooked pole arms, rustic yet perfect for slaughter, or moving corpses with the broad blades. Others had hands and arms greatly augmented with operating tools, drills, claws, and injectors, horrifying devices indeed for the crowd as they looked startled in disbelief at the array. However quite a few of the weak hearted fainted as they saw the floating platform of dismemberment and precision as its hulk pondered over the ground as the sharp tap of a pair of boots echoed behind it. The Talos swiveled out of the way as if a curtain unveiling the starlet of the show. Rysiel held her long hex rifle close to her as she looked at what prosper there was to gain from this selection.

Many down below whispered and pondered what her arrival meant, but the slight buzz of concern was interrupted by a rather well built male who had more then his fair share of cuts and scars. With a spear in hand he pointed up at the arrayed Dark Eldar, specifically the recently arrived Haemonculus.

“They are not the Sky Gods! They lie! They are in le-”

His rant was cut short. Shorter then the reaction of those nearby to take up arms to tackle down this interloper as the male clutched at his neck, the area around his vocal cords expanding in a swell of tissue and mass to the size of a melon before quickly and horrifically exploding his head and neck clear from his body in a spray of gore that lead to quite a few cheers from the Ynneas Eldarith who were hidden, stationed inside the slave barge. In the blink of an eye Rysiel had leveled her hex rifle, aimed precisely, and fired a virulent splinter round right into the now corpses throat and reloaded another round from her belt. This alone gave the humans pause as they froze in fear before looking at their kin and began to offer their families up to avoid the wrath of the Dark One.
She couldn't help but grin at how fast they turned on each other before looking over to Archon Nero. He couldn't help but chuckle himself as he quickly raised the scepter again, and without having to raise his voice the humans froze again, kneeling in place.
As Rysiel had first pick, she quickly scanned the crowd before the wracks descended to pick up those selected from her glance. None put up a fuss as men and women of various ages and kinship were walked up to the barge and vanished back into her realm.