Devotion (random fluff piece)

((This isn't going to be much, to be honest it's just one of those pieces I let my hands write to try and get back into things. However it should hopefully start to fill out one of my characters for you, feel free to discuss and importantly, enjoy.))

The darkness embraced him in the old familiar way. In this place the darkness was a friend, an ally, in another life perhaps he would have felt comfort in its embrace. Such an emotion however had long since vanished from his mind. Like the dull violet light that flickered from the hall beyond, the memories of a previous life still lingered in his mind. At times like this he believed he could almost feel them again but they were mere shades of the experiences of his present. The darkness had consumed him a lifetime ago and now he revelled in it.

Reaching out with long slender fingers he lit a candle on the cold marble floor inches in front of where he knelt. The light flickered gently but rather than driving the darkness away, it only made it seem darker in contrast to the new small halo of light. Uttering a silent votive to the darkness he began his ritual as he had every day in the city.

Rising steadily he extended one leg out to his side across the cold marble until it touched the darkness. There he rested for a moment on the ball of his other foot. Then slowly and with purpose he drew a small, fine blade from its place woven intricately into his topknot of hair. Drawing the blade steadily down his chest he opened a clean wound, cutting open fresh stitches from the daily ritual, until blood once again dripped freely to the cold floor.

As the blood hit the floor he began. Moving like quicksilver he slid though a series of ritualised moves, his bloody blade painting patterns in the air, his blood peppering the walls. So ensnared by this ritually he paid no heed to the opening of the door. His senses told him a servant was entering, but his mind barely acknowledged the fact. His vision was blurred with red, his nostrils full of the sticky tang of his own blood. Following the motions to their ultimate conclusion he could feel his hands dripping with blood which was not his own. A word slipped into his mind at the thought, one word...

“Eldanesh...” he whispered the name softly as the blood haze began to lift from his eyes.

His consciousness returning to his present he could sense something else. He turned to look behind at where his outstretched arm reached. And there at its end he found his servant, a blade buried deep in his chest. Hungrily he drank in the wretch’s last moments, their blood mingling together on the cold floor. There was a delightful aura of surprise and shock intermingled with the pain of death as the servant’s essence was consumed by his own. Just what was needed to start the day.

Bending down to retrieve the tray the servant had so dutifully brought him, he took a small cup of water and gently washed the blood from his hands. Then with clean hands he dabbed slightly at the wound on his chest, which had already begun to heal. Finally, almost with a look of devotion, he took the cup, filling it the blood which had mingled on the floor and then turned and placed before a small statuette.

Khaine...the bloody handed...God of Murder.

I personally don't like the idea of Khaine-worshipping dark eldar. I don't care what the codex says.

Nor do I to be honest. This piece has actually inspired me tol revisit one of the sub-plots that runs through my Kabals backstory, the idea of belief in the dark city. Thankfully the idea has been expanded upon in the new codex so gives me more room to play.

I chose to use the word "devotion" for a reason. This character (I'll reveal who he is in the next piece) doesn't so much "worship" Khaine as acknowledge his power. After all of all the Eldar gods it was only Khaine that survived (and I thought it would be justified for them to concentrate more on the murder aspect of Khaine). As the codex says it less to honor him, more to learn his power. That this individual has his own ritual surrounding this "god" is two fold, firstly I'm hoping now and later to use it to demonstrate how obsessed the eldar pysche can became, and reveal a bit of the character's past. (I also quite like the idea of the eldar possesing a form of racial memory).

Khaine, Cegorach and Isha. I liked the piece. We rarely see their madness in writing. Its all politics nowadays.