The Dooms Hidden COMPLETE

EDIT: PART 1 COMPLETE
EDIT: PART 2 COMPLETE
EDIT: Content warnings! (wohoo!)

Content warnings:

So. I have written a lot. Im not a professional, but I know some professionals (am related to one even) and a few amateurs such as myself. I have also seen lots of great text about DEldar here *Cough*Trueborn by Thor665*cough*

I enjoy writing. I enjoy reading too. I like to try different types of writing, and have already written two chapters for this, from which you will notice a few quite different kinds of text.
So. The plot in what I have written and what I have in my head to yet be written is forming all the time, and the end result will likely be a too complicated scheme with backstabbers and no heroes, just DEldar who are out for themselves, and a few other races as well, some maybe with even some "noble" (sarcastic tone) goals, but anyway.
A few explanations on what you will see as the story goes on:
Every chapter has at least two 'lead'-characters that keep changing in the middle, and then usually the place (the 'stage') changes. The lead one is the one 'in the story', and when you see text in italics, it means it's that person thinking. I dont tell at the start of each chapter who is the thinker here, but I hope that it will be easy enough to guess. And at some points, it really isnt even meant to be known, so if you are confused, dont worry.
At times, there is no 'thinker', no 'lead'. The story goes on the old fashion way, and the described is a big guy staring at the little people going on with the story and the big guy is telling out loud what he sees.
Some people are weird. Some people are just plain crazy and/or creepy, and most of their personalities are fun to write.


Here is a short prologue that means probably more than I think, explains absolutely nothing to the reader, gives a few names, and kills a few characters who you dont know.
Comments are welcome, I will post the first chapter during the next 24 hours as soon as I am done editing it and happy about it (it is quite longer than this one, with more people, and with more explaining on whats happening. Not all the time, though)

Character list:
This is here for reference of all the numerous people mentioned. I will quickly describe them, but I wont add any spoilerish info for them, so that you can consult the list even without having read the most recent chapter. The list is in order of appearance, and note that it can contain people who have only been mentioned, maybe not even seen. Some people who have not been named appear here, while some don't. Mainly because I possibly didn't think of a way to describe some, maybe because they are not so important to the story. If they do appear later, however, and it could be obvious that it is the same person that was seen earlier but not named, I will place the name here though. Some few named people dont appear here. Why, because they too are not important to the story, at least not yet.

The list could be out of date in case of certain characters. They could be dead, for instance, or not employed by the same person anymore, or anything like that.

Excofin - Unknown person at the prologue
Thefan - A wealthy and powerful person of unknown station, also mentioned at the prologue.
Kozerog - unknown person at the prologue, maybe an assassin?

'Predator' - 'the creature', identity unknown, but the creature hunts in a planet somewhere in realspace

Yba - an amateur thief, partner of Zon
Zon - an amateur thief, partner of Yba
Armahad - an archon of the Flowing Art

Frencsis Sarkanozin - 'the Marquis', a rich noble with rather questionable personality
Ainla - 'the Dancer queen', well known performer, who has an unknown relation with the Marquis

Coerill - a young warrior in service of Thefan

Woryc - a young noble, son of archon Armahad

Tunnfe - a haemonculus, of the Coven of Banished Apocalypse
Rhogogo - a haemonculus, of the Coven of Banished Apocalypse
Mor’Igen - 'the Phantom', leader of the Phantom Doom corsairs, recently at a Tau-controlled planet
Ekkart - a haemonculus, of the Coven of Banished Apocalypse
La - a young corsair cadet of the phantom
Ko - a senior corsair cadet of the phantom

Vorathio Unz’navick - an old warrior in service of Thefan
Vazek - a haemonculus, in service of Thefan

Marchel’Fir - an autarch of Zanis-Kiam craftworld, recently at a Tau-controlled planet
Yulethan’ia Bezeania - a resident of Zanis-Kiam craftworld, a guardian, serving Marchel'Fir

'Shackled' - an unknown creature kept prisoner in a dark room

The harlequin - a skilled and deadly fighter with mental problems
The eldar in the black cape - unknown man with unknown intentions, 'the upstart'

Ifgen’Lassnar - a scourge, employed by Thefan
Riflor Uzerafick - renegade trueborn, employed by Thefan

Lanlia - a corsair of unknown status and origins, apparently presumed dead

Hoolon Jree - archon of the kabal of Brightened Star
Teifor - archon of the kabal of Bleeding Spear

Mozarz - a barber

Vinfer - a houseguard for the kabal of Flowing Art

Hagiahr - a corsair, loyal to Lanlia

Jein - old acquaintance of Mozarz

Volerio - former Crimson Hunter, a corsair of the Phantom. Strategist


BTW, if you are reading part two, there is already another list that, while not being updated regularly (already some characters who could be added), has a lot of info on them. Right after interlude





THE DOOMS HIDDEN


Prologue
Fear. Is that what this is? No. It shouldn’t. Yet it is?
I am honest. Honest to myself. It is fear. Why is it fear?

He fears. Of course he fears. Ecxofin is a coward of a warrior. But why do I fear? Stupid Thefan, never should have listened to him.

Stop shivering, you idiot. Bad enough that I’m afraid, and your shivering is contagious.

“Quiet now, I think there is someone close by.” Excofin listens to me, at least. But he is still afraid. Why do I have to take him with me? Stupid Thefan.
Something indeed is close. Have to go faster. Don’t care if he doesn’t keep up.

The hall is just ahead. If something is trying to ambush us, it could very well happen there. Plenty of places for snipers
The lights are still out. Not that I don’t need them. I learned to see well in places like this before Thefan started telling his lies. Stupid Thefan.

“What was that?”
Surprising that he can still speak. Fear has not taken away his hearing, either. Good.

Come on, let’s go. No, don’t speak… just look at me, let’s keep moving. Yes, good, come on.
Now, to the hall… quiet in here. Of course it’s quiet. Good assassins don’t make any sound when aiming their rifles or thrusting their knives to the target. We are good as dead here. Stupid Thefan.

We are close though. We could even survive this. If we just get there in time… Stupid Thefan.

“No, no, that is all wrong, Kozerog.”

What? Who…?

“…always kill the leader first, remember?”

No… I already thought… please… make it quick then.

Chapter 1
Death of our prey

The figure slowly stood up. It never lost its balance, feet steady as rocks on top of the skyboard.
Trees surrounded it. A sun could be seen, about disappear to the horizon as it continued its natural cycle.
Night was coming.
It is time to strike.

The creature sniffed, its nose twitching as it looked for a smell, searching, hungrily.
The skyboard drifted silently forward. It moved on the border of the tree line, obscured from vision if looked at from the camp on the plains, but not the other way around.

Another one has come. There are four now.
While the camp was quite unimpressive, with its leather tents and a few steel bunkers, four huge spaceships crowded its small landing zone. Night patrols were on the move, searchlights on their helmets scanning everything around them.
They are expanding. They are coming again.

The skyboard turned around suddenly, and raced inside the woods. The plains were quiet as they had been, only sound was the distant spaceships being unloaded.
The creature remembers. It knows what happened, and knows what is likely to happen.

An abrupt halt stops the skyboard, leaves of a tree nearby flowing at the gust from its engines.
The smell. They are close.
‘They’, ‘it’, ‘those’. Names have little use for the creature.

Hopping off the skyboard, the creature starts climbing the trees, jumping from one to another, leaping from branch to another. Its eyes are closed, the smell is enough.

Now.

A short, muffled shout comes as the creature’s prey falls to the grass it had been eating just moments ago.

Drinking in the pain of the dying animal, the creature twists the knife that had been struck, again and again. Soon, the prey is dead, and the hunter licks the blood on the weapon used to do the deed. The moment was gone, now all that was left to do was gather the meat.

An old one. Yet lost from its herd. Pathetic. These never put up a good fight.
And so, the creature began the messy process that had to follow.


___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Is that really so important?”
“Yes.”
“What if I only get two?”
“No, bring three, it won’t be that much trouble.”
“Well, what if I find four?”
“No, there are only three there.”
“Hah, I knew that you knew.”

Silence. At least on the other side of the communicator.
Yba was still climbing the wall, and his physical side was not what he would have wanted to. If Zon noticed of the huffing and puffing, he didn’t care. Yba’s face was covered with a black hood that fit in just as well as the rest of his bodysuit, but he knew that he was sweating under it.

The palace of archon Armahad would indeed be one of the easiest jobs they had ever done… and if things went according to plan, the most profitable. The yard had been easy to cross, the laser traps just a warm-up before the climb. No guards had spotted him, and no guard would in a long time. Zon took care of that.

The dark, round building was more than ten stories high, the archons bedroom at the upper levels, to Yba’s great annoyance. Long, black spikes surrounded the building at around the mid-section, and a few windows here and there, but otherwise the whole wall was clear, nothing but the black stone it was made of.

The grip-gloves, the latest fashion they had just spent two jobs worth of cash for, were paying themselves back almost as much as they should. The energy on them was running dangerously low, but Yba was already closing in on the window of the 8th floor.

“Just find them, okay? I know one of them, and trust me, they will be grateful.” Zon finally speaks again, but Yba wouldn’t let it go so easy.
“Know one? Hah, where did you meet her? A private club on High Comorragh?”
“No, no… at…”
“Don’t lie to me, you hate the slums.”

Just… one… more… push…
Exhausted, Yba still finds enough strength to grap on the rail of the window and pull himself up to it.

“Clear, the trap is gone.” Zon takes the opportunity to change the subject.
It was a giant leap of faith for Yba to break the fragile glass with a smash from his own trusted little hammer. Yet the glass breaks, and there is no alarm to greet him. No trap to vaporize him. Zon had actually disarmed the traps from his comfortable spot with his computer.

“So, what if I will do what we came to do first, then worry about that?”
“Of course. The last door on to your right.”
Climbing in, Yba entered a decorated corridor with masses of paintings, graceful vases and even a bookshelf with a material Yba had rarely seen, paper.

Yba decided to settle in walking on the bright red carpet towards the door, too exhausted to sprint. He placed the hammer on his belt, took off the grip-gloves, stuffed them in his backpack, and browsed it for the next required object. Finally, he finds the small box that seems to be so important to the employer. The box is old metal, with dusty carvings that while looking pretty, Yba cared little. He juggled the box as he approached the door, stopping only to place his arm on the doorknob.

“It’s trapped.” The words ringing in the communicator in his ear stopped him on the last moment, fingers stiffening at the thought of what could have happened. A time that felt like hours passed, and soon Zon’s assuring voice is heard again. “Done, it’s clear.”
Not wasting a second any longer, Yba opened the door, strode inside, immediately knowing where to go. He had not studied the blueprints, or any maps either, but he knew where it was when he saw it.

The archons bedroom was as decorated as the corridor had been. Desks and chairs littered the place, and a huge armchair stood right at the center. But Yba was looking at the corner of the room.

A rack, covered in glass, was filled with numerous of objects. They appeared harmless, but from what Yba had heard, all of them were lethal.

That’s probably poison… ooh, a walking stick with a sword hidden inside, maybe I could take that too… more poison…
Studying the rack, Yba dreamed of what he could sell these for. Unfortunately, he had limited space, and after all, only one thing he had a replica of.

Opening the box he was still holding in his hand, he took out a beautiful, bright shard. Comparing it to the shattershard-weapon he had spotted on the rack, he wondered how well the archon knew the form of the precious weapon he had stored in his bedroom.
“Come on, open the rack already.” Yba was getting nervous, sweat running down his body not only because of the long climb he had had.

After this is done, I will be so rich… I could go to one of those parties the highborn have, and feast and drink and everything as much as I wanted…

“The control panel, to your left. Clear of traps now.”
Yba charged on the panel and impatiently kept clicking the ‘open’-button, not stopping even as the glass on the rack slowly started to disappear on to the wall behind it.

A hellish grin appeared on Yba’s face as he switched the shattershard on the rack to the one on the box. He opened his backpack once more, threw the box inside, and dug out another box…

I wont need Zon anymore… I have waited so long for this.

The box was a detonator. Yba regretted he wouldn’t see the basement exploding, taking away both Zon as well as all the evidence that could have connected them to the theft. He would never see the basement, which had also been their base of operations, again, but it didn’t matter, for he had packed everything he needed before leaving this time.

His fingers toyed around the large red button taking up half the space of the little detonator, preparing to savor at least a little from the explosion that would come, far away from him.

…Now, goodbye Zon!

“Yba, there is something wrong, the…” Click. The connection was lost, a snapping sound heard before the communicator went silent.

What?

Yba cursed at his timing. He had betrayed his companion at a moment he was apparently trying to warn him. Looking around, the room was just as silent as it had been.

A minute passes, and Yba stands still, having already forgotten all about the death of his old partner, just afraid to move in case someone would burst inside the room.

I have to get out of here.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


The bright, golden hall was full of visitors, everyone anxious to get the first look at the Marquis Frencsis Sarkanozin, the newly-rich and famous noble who had donated a large sum to help the poor gladiator arenas who couldn’t afford to entertain their customers with reaver-jetbike contests, something everyone should have the chance to see. Such charity was rare, although the Marquis had a good cause. And no one doubted that he had reasons of personal gain as well.

Two huge, long dinner tables took up most space at the center of the hall, and since no one had been given the permission to be seated, the free space at the sides was crowded with the guests, who were studying the ornate marble statues placed into pedestals almost as big as the statues themselves.

Three suspicious figures argued silently between each other near a lonely statue representing a muscular, horned mon-keigh.
The first was a young, pretty lady with short, curled blonde hair. She was dressed in a long purple dress with bright golden curls, but everyone that had seen the look on her face when she gets angry, which happened often, and had already happened on several occasions during the party, had already made a mental note not to ask her to the dance that was to be as the main event.

The second was a man who constantly looking irritated, but it was his hairstyle that made people stare at him. A visible bald spot shined far on his head, but the hair had only been shaven clean partly, and long, black hair surrounded him, his head like an old, bearded crystal ball. He had fine, clean and expensive clothing, but they were old-fashion, like many had already noticed, and the most fashion-freaks of the party had already made a mental note not to ask him to the dance that was to be as the main event.

The third was an old but yet healthy looking man, that kept smiling back at everyone who looked at him. He had short, curled white hair, much like the first one. He had dressed in a plain vest, but he wore a lot of jewelry everywhere he could fit them, and the most sharp-eyed had spotted a plate of armor he was wearing under the vest. He also had a keen sense of smell that appeared to be of an herb of some kind. The stench was rather unpleasant, thanks to which the most sensitive-nosed people of the party had already made a mental note not to ask him to the dance that was to be as the main event.

Every party had a conspirator, and most more than one, so few took note of them. After all, Frencsis was guarded well. All but the most careless ones had noticed the balconies above them, with watchful warriors studying the hall below for any signs of trouble. Their grey armor and splinter rifles were pieces of art on their own, the Marquis known well from the artists and craftsmen that work for him.

One guard took of his helm, and yawned at the sight of the continuous boredom caused to him by the highborn nobles gossiping and chatting each other to no end. His hair was black, but it had been colorfully striped with red. The young warrior then started looking for a person he had been following a while now. The only thing he had not found boring.

Staring subtly at the three people quietly throwing insults by the statue, a woman with bright, flowing red hair kept pushing aside young nobles who tried to compliment her dark green skirt, her golden necklace, her hair, the earrings she had, or the high-heeled boots she was wearing, or, in fact, anything from her. Even her hefty bosom if the nobleman was particularly daring. She was getting tired of it.

When the chorus of flutes and fiddles began, everyone turned to the stairs or pure gold, leading to the inner rooms of the Marquise’s mansion. The three people by the statues went silent. One of them disappeared in the crowd, the other two behind the horned man of marble. The guard decided it was best to stop looking at the forms of the woman who was already looking angry at the attention she was getting, and remembered that he was on guard duty. The woman herself was glad to see that even the young noblemen knew that whoever was distracted by something other than the Marquise when he entered his hall would be seen in bad light by many.

A row of silent officers strode down to the hall, followed by a small group of incubi-bodyguards, and finally, the Marquise himself. The steps of the stairs were short enough, but Frencsis Sarkanozin took his time as he waved to the cheering people who had been rich enough to be allowed to the feast. His long golden cape followed after him down the stairs, his white hair trimmed that everyone could see his powdered face.

The guards on the balconies were all extremely attentive now, all of them looking for signs of assassins or a scheme. None was seen, and soon the guard with the black and red hair took up his comfortable position against the wall once more, looking at the hall again, searching for the seat where the pretty woman had went to. All the guests had chairs assigned to them, but he didn’t know where she would be seated… she, Ainla, the ‘Dancer-Queen’.

The search stops shortly, when he spots the red hair, much like the guard had himself, flowing, as the head of the woman turned to mutter a compliment to a nobleman seated next to her. A sudden, warm feeling spreads over the guard, and he soon felt that his legs can’t hold him anymore, and he falls to his knees. A gloved hand stops the shout he was about to give, and blood trickles down on the guards hands that had found a sword lodged on through his back.

Chapter  2
Who do we stand against
The stage had been set. But not on my terms.

He pulled on his gauntlets, stretching his arms while wondering what sword to take. He put on his helmet, a large, blue one with ornament wing-decorations.

The actors will soon present themselves. I have to get to know them all quickly, or else this could go far wrong.

The armor felt heavy, but it gave a feeling of security to him. He was dressed for battle, and very much like a battle was what he were going to enter.

I must take my cape as well… if I go in entirely on a suit of a soldier, they will think I have come for bloodshed. No, that is not what they should think. They have gotten too bad example of us already. Still… if this goes wrong, I have to get out of there alive.

Choosing a curved, beautiful sabre, he attaches it to his belt, and takes a deep breath.

--
The lift had not been unpleasant, but it left a bad aftertaste.
They are afraid of me. They wanted to kill me. But they have more sense than that.

Walking past the guards through the open door, he enters the small office, that they will have their meeting in. The walls were yellow bricks, interesting design for him. But the figure who stood on the chair took most of his attention.

The main character. So he thinks. He is probably right, as much as I hate to admit it. He will direct the course here, and should he choose, I wouldn’t leave this place alive. I just hope if he gets violent, he will target his minions on the other one.

Looking around anxiously, he sits on one of the three chairs on his side of the desk and takes off his helmet, unleashing his long white hair. The ‘main actor’ sitting on the other side looks slightly afraid of the hair, as if it were a wild beast.

They are so irritating… their physiology just as graceless as their society.

The two stare at each other silently for a long time, both seated on their comfortable chairs. On the desk, there are numerous datasheets and maps. Something else, too.
He has been doing background research, it seems. And of course, he has brought ‘evidence’.

Suddenly arriving in the room, a third person walks in with long steps, rather impatiently, but apparently not for being late, but rather for his active personality.

This one is easy to read. He is, in a way, one of us, but if he is decided to be executed, and it is very likely it will happen here and now, few would miss him.

Relaxing on his seat, the newcomer doesn’t bother to take off his long, black coat or even the silly looking sunglasses he is wearing.

He even has the impudence to show off his weapons… that must be one of those splinter weapons, highly poisonous.

The purple eyes of the other one stared at the newcomer questioningly, and soon got a reply.

“Not coming. Dead.” He stretches his arms peacefully while saying so, clearly not concerned or grieving his lost friend.

Nodding silently, the creature on the other side of the desk decides that the meeting will be began right away.
So. Let’s see how this goes. I want to know what that hideous barbarian is planning.

A short, fully-armored guard walks in, and brings forth a complex device that most people on the room realize as a translator. The guard carefully places it on the desk, turns it on, and scampers off the room.

“It is good for all of us that you are here.”
The translator speaks in a voice even more crude than the barbarian.
“…We are here”, it continues, “To find out who is to be found the cause of the great tragedy of what we are all aware of. We are here, to find who has been so evil, so cruel to act against the greater good.”
And there he goes again…
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

They cheer me. They love me. They are mine!

Yes, there. You there… you can’t say two sentences without mentioning me! You praise me and everything I do! You love me, and will love me forever! You love me, you are a friend.

My warriors, my army, they all love me too. They keep things in order to please me. Yes, they will do anything for me!

My slaves, they love me too. All of them, loyal fanatics, helping me with anything I need. They would die for me. They will die for me.

Ha! Look! He is raising a toast for me. We will all drink wine for me, just for me! My slaves made this wine, my warriors have tasted it, and that one over there who is always praising me, my friend, is drinking with me now!

Yes… food. I must eat. There is much to do. Much to do to get everyone, everywhere to love me.

They all talk to me. Wanting to chat. I do not care, they love me so much they know. They don’t know everything, they must not.

No.

Now already?

AAAGH… the PAIN!

I must listen to my guard’s captain.
I must listen to my guard’s captain.
I must listen to my agent.
I must listen to my agent.

“WHAT?” the Marquis shouts at himself. All around him, the tables go quiet, the eating stops, someone drops a wineglass. Soon, the noise comes back, as the guests go back to what they were doing.

“Marquis, as much as I hate to disturb you, we have something that we need to take care of.”

I must listen to my guard’s captain… why do I even have a captain?
Be silent, you fool. I’m tired of listening to you. The agent at least looks pretty, and loves me more than my captain… my guard’s captain. My guard’s captain.

“Forget him”, another voice says. “We will go on with the plan without him. He wasn't sober during any of the briefings anyway. He was just for show, they said so!”

She has a pretty voice… I wish I could listen to her voice more often. But no, no, we agreed, I do not know who she is. No, no, she is my agent. No one knows who she is. Well. Everyone knows who she is, but no one knows she is mine. No one knows she loves me.

NO! Everyone loves me!

“What was that?” the agent said.

Echo? No… my no does not echo. Something that is bothering again. But it must not bother me. It will bother the guards. She still has a pretty voice, much more nice to listen than my guard’s captain. Look at him… talking again.
I must not listen to my guard’s captain.

A scream is heard again, and something snaps in the mind of the Marquis.
That one, I have heard before. That voice I will never forget. I can’t stay here, I will die. They will kill me.

Rising up from his chair as carefully as he could, Frencsis hoped no one would pay attention. But as he stood up, another guest did, and then another, and soon the whole hall was up.

A speech. I must give a speech. Something calming. Something to tell them that the voices out there mean nothing.

“We have some small troubles out there, nothing to worry about.” A voice that was not his own spoke, and at the same time a slender but strong arm grasped his own and started pulling him towards his quarters.

The guard captain kept talking in a peaceful, calm tone while the Frencsis Sarkanozin gratefully went with the offer of a quick and unnoticed escape given by the woman in the dark green skirt.

My agent is so pretty. I wonder if she has some spare time right now.

They almost ran up the golden stairs, leaving the hall that soon continued feasting. They came to the living room of the private wing he had in his large mansion. There were many doors, stairs both up and down that most lead to bedrooms meant for important visitors. The Marquis also often enjoyed sleeping in a different bed as often as possible.

Two of his incubi were standing by a door, leading to his current bedroom. They approached the pair, and one of the incubi almost forcefully took the Marquis and started taking him, half-dragging, half-walking, further to another room.

She went with that one. Eh, I knew she was busy. No matter. As long as I am safe.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Running was never Yba’s strong side. He hated it when he was in a hurry. He was supposed to meet his employer during some kind of party hosted by some rich guy. He kept on thinking what it would be like to actually be invited to one.

The employer wouldn’t ask any questions from Zon’s absence. He didn’t know who went to steal the thing and who the outside-assistance was.

To the front door. No need to sneak in from anywhere. The thought comforted Yba, who was already exhausted from having to run two blocks, cross a few bridges and use one portal to get to this realm.

He took of his hood, revealing his messy brown hair he had always been annoyed of. Brushing it with his hands, he kept walking to the front entry. He didn’t know if the employer would be there to meet him, but he hoped that no guard would stop him. He didn’t have any fancy clothes, after all.

The front door was open. Two guards stood there, splinter rifles raised as in salute. Yba walked past them trying not to get their attention. And he passed, the guards gave no reaction.

He started to walk faster as he approached the main hall where the feast was. From what he had heard, the highborn would first eat and drink as much as they could, then start dancing that would continue on and on until the first ones finally got bored and started to entertain themselves either by shooting the slaves, dueling each other or retiring to the bedrooms or pleasure chambers.
He hoped he had not walked into a party at its last stages. He couldn’t handle any drunk noble who would get the idea of killing him right now. He had other things to do.

The hall was ahead of him, the corridor widening as the golden room was seen. The mansion was even more impressive than the palace of that archon he had just robbed.

Yba stops at a groaning sound. A door, apparently hidden on the wall near him, opens. Behind the heavy-looking door a tunnel went on as far as Yba could see, apparently going around the hall, to its other side.

He had only seen his employer once, but he was a sight hard to forget. The center of his head had been shaved bald, yet long, dark hair curled around it. The clothes he had looked weird, but Yba was sure it was just his lack of knowledge on what highborn wear on this kind of parties.
The employer looked at him, with a grin. He felt to be quite excited for some reason, even though he had been very serious the first time they met. He suddenly whirled around and ran inside the tunnel.

Yba did not see any other reasonable action but to race after him.

“Wait! Where are you going?” He didn’t realize that someone could listen, and how much his voice echoed in the tunnel, but neither of them stopped running.

After a sprint of a few minutes, Yba’s run comes to a halt. His breath was still racing, his pulse was high, and he puffed constantly. He had to lean against the wall as his knees shook.

A scream. Yba raises his head, nervous. The scream was not of an eldar.

He started running towards the way his employer had went to again. The tunnel kept going a while, but soon he finally reached an open door out.

It was a bedroom. The mansion’s owner’s bedroom, apparently. What the owner looked like, that was easy to guess. Portraits titled “The Marquis Frencsis Sarkanozin” crowded the walls.

“Now, this is interesting.” A deep, calm voice of an old eldar male speaks. Yba finds a splinter pistol pointed in his direction. The man sits on an elegant chair, and at his feet, lies a corpse.

His employer was dead. Yba sank into a moment of despair.

“I think I know who you are.” The man continues to speak. Yba tried to breathe slowly, but he was much too nervous for that. The other one continues. “I have… a proposition, for you.”

“Really? Who are you?” Yba finds the courage to talk.

The man stood, and Yba finally noticed that he had torn clothes, and an armor with lots of scratches, that had been kept under them.

“Your new employer, well met. My name is Thefan, and I have a job for you already. Let’s get out of here first, and then we can speak more.”

Ah, Yba, poor, foolish, amateur at betrayal Yba ... this isn't really your day, is it?

I enjoyed this, especially the interaction between Yba and his probably late hacker friend, the description of the people at the party and the Marquis - what is going on inside his head, if of course that's where it is ...

I'm intrigued to see more

Thank you Malys ^^
Sorry to tell that the next chapter wont feature Yba, but you will see more of his adventures right on the one after that! Here comes the next one:

Chapter 3
The allies we hate

Blah blah blah… he just keeps on talking. Pointing at me, then the autarch-what’s-its-name, then me again.

The dark haired eldar yawned and the Ethereal behind the desk stopped talking, once again interrupted.

“This is a serious matter, I would…” There he goes again. I’m getting really sick of listening to that translator. Just get to your point already.

The discussion has been going on in circles for a long while, no conclusion has been reached.

Hah. That pansy is also getting angry. I bet he will soon jump at that guy... or better, me.
The other eldar was quietly ceasing his anger and constantly pondering what to do. The Tau was angry, and it was likely that soon he would get his guards here.

They will try to kill both of us, so I hope he has the sense to be killing them, not me. Oh well, if I do get killed, those idiots from Comorragh backing me up should help. They did a good job getting rid of Lanlia. She would have been lots of trouble later. Now I just have to wait for them to send their own new agent to me. Then, my plans…

A sudden pain hits him as the fully-armored autarch slapped him.

“What is wrong with you?!” He rubbed his red cheek and pulled his chair a bit further from the other eldar. The autarch had stood up.

“Forgive me”, the autarch said, to the Ethereal instead of him, “but I will place my own judgment now. This person here is a pirate. A schemer, plotter, murderer, and he is responsible for the capture of your ships. He is…”

“Hey, hey. You are a silly old guy in an armor at a meeting, but I’m not complaining!”

The autarch finishes the sentence, ignoring what he said.
“…a Corsair. The leader of the corsairs of the Phantom Doom.”

“Yes, this is a conclusion we have also come to…” The Ethereal nodded, his purple eyes staring both of the eldar in turns.

“Hah, I didn’t come here to be insulted by you, you old hag of a pansy.” The corsair stood up, facing the autarch. But he turned to the Tau next. “And you, you blue-skinned idiot of a prophet, I took all your ships, and all the weapons you had there. You want them back? Guess what, I sold them! And…”

Two of the Tau Firewarriors had entered the room and surrounded the corsair, their weapons pointed at his back.

“...I will now take your pathetic little camp!”

The corsair rolled over, sending two discs of shuriken blades flying as he went. Both of the warriors behind him fell as their helmets were pierced.

“You will face judgment for the greater good, for your evil actions!” The Ethereal had stood and was backing away to the wall of the office as the corsair jumped over the desk with his splinter pistol unsheathed from its holster.

The Autarch was pointing his shuriken pistol at the corsairs back, but he soon screamed in pain as his shoulder melted. He fell on the floor, the haemonculus behind him chuckling as he crunched the autarchs glowing soulstone under his fleshgauntlet.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


“Are you finished?” The two armored figures were hiding behind the balcony, careful not to be noticed by the guards on the other side of the hall.

Clicking the small green button to the device’s side, Coerill stood up.

“It’s active now, we can get out.” …and you really have to whine about and complain all the time?

“Good, good. Now we can finally get away, had enough of this stupid task. Stupid…” Shut up… Don’t go there again.

“Hey, have a little respect, he has helped us a lot, hasn’t he?”

“You are young, and you are fool, Coerill. The naïve-part of you will fade as you grow, but you will forever be a fool.” ...And you have always and forever will be a bitter old worm?

“We should get out of here. They probably have agents here too you know.”

“Hah. They killed the last ones already, he has only his guards now.”

“What? But… that dancer…”

“Don’t be fooled by her. Thefan will let you know sooner or later anyway, she is one of ours.”

“But… didn’t they have allies from realspace too?”

“I was on the last operation. We crippled them, and killed one of their leaders. They won’t be helping him anymore, they will think only of their own survival now.”

“So, since you appear to know so much, when will the final operation take place?”

“I wish I knew. He will just throw me at it when it comes, though, I am sure. Maybe you as well, unless you are dead by then. In that case, I would at least get a better partner with me.”

Do you ever hide your resentment? “Well, conversation with you has been enlightening. I should talk to you more often.”

“Do me a favor and don’t.”

The guests were scattered, the ones most bored already had left. The Marquis had also retired, no one knew why. But the guards were still attentive, and it wouldn’t take long for them to notice the missing guard at the balconies. They wouldn’t notice the hidden device, though.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


The main event had turned the party to something more like a disco. Woryc was enjoying himself as much as he could, partly following the duel that had escalated into a small riot between two kabals, and partly trying to ‘get to know’ that young lady from that rich old noble house. What house, Woryc had already forgotten.

The dame soon left, uninterested from the young man who kept telling of the heroic deeds he had done and of the great noble house he had been born into.

That’s third to reject me… hmm… who next? That one looked good, the one that was out with her father. She kept talking to that creepy guy though… Also she looked very angry at times, but I think I still have a better chance with her than these snobs here. Just have to find her.

Woryc looks at one of the women she had already tried to make a move on earlier that day. She was dancing on with a moderately successful gladiator who had irritated one of the incubi guarding the door and challenged him to a duel. That he actually won.

He got attention with combat… I’m not much for that, but dad’s an archon, that’s something. Let’s see if that will work.

Scanning the hall for a potential target, Woryc spotted a dame with green-dyed hair, in a silken black dress. She was watching the fight between the two kabals with much enjoyment, clapping every time someone lost their head to a sword.

“Nice party, eh?” Woryc always thought his opening lines bad, but never thought up anything better.

The stare from her cold eyes was something that almost made Woryc turn tail and run. He just stared nervously back, wondering was she about to bite him, decapitate him (a corpse lying nearby had a sword just for the purpose) or go with the old fashion slap.

A sudden pat on Woryc’s shoulder finally stopped the staring contest between the two, and the big figure of a finely-dressed, bald noble pulls him away.

“Son, how are you?” The archon smiles at the young nobleman on the edge of freaking out, and gives him a massive bearhug.

“Dad! What are you doing here?” Woryc pushes the archon off from the hug. “You said you hated parties, and the Mar…” Woryc is quick enough to stop his sentence even before the archon raised his finger to his lips.

“Well”, the old archon replies, after cautiously looking around, like they were being spied upon, “I decided that I just couldn't miss out this magnificent party. I had gone for a walk first, since I had to get out of my palace… it drives you crazy if you stay inside too long. Then I thought about things, and I came up with a realization that I don’t spend enough time with my dearest (and only) son!”

“Uh… that’s very kind of you, dad.” Woryc wasn’t surprised to notice the dame in the black dress now in a different company than theirs. He turned rather angrily towards his father, but his upcoming rage was halted as he saw the blonde he had been already looked around a few times. She had come back to the hall, likely from the chambers beneath them. She had apparently already found company, from the looks of her hair and the state of her clothing.

Woryc sighed once again. He felt as if he had been rejected before even talking to her.

“Hah. I see you had been hunting!” The archon chuckles, and pats Woryc on the back. “Well, there are other things for me to do. I don’t really want to keep secrets with you, so I will tell why I really came here.”

And so the ‘I had come to spend more time with my son’ is already forgotten, eh, dad?

“You see”, his father continues, “there is something going on. Sides are being chosen. Even I am not yet sure when a war will begin, but I think I know where, and who will be leading the enemy.” He talked quietly, more silent than a whisper, and Woryc had to lean even closer to him to hear.

“Is this…about the Marquis?”

“We have so much to discuss. I knew you would be ready. But now, here, is not a good place. We will talk when we get home. For now, enjoy the rest of the party, but be careful of who you get to know here.”

The archon left his son without another word, navigating through the crowds, apparently knowing exactly where to go.

I wonder if he is serious. I don’t think I want a war. He is probably joking again. He misses the times when it was easy to just go and kill your neighbor without having to think of the consequences.

Woryc sighed, and he went to find an unoccupied bench to spend the rest of the party on. Woryc Armahad, the descendant of one of the richest, yet one of the weakest, kabals, the Flowing Art.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Something is going on in there again. Two have been destroyed, two left.

A screech of a bird could be heard, deep from the forest.

A massive explosion lit up the night sky, the trees shivering as if blown by a breeze from a god. The booming noise didn't make the creature even flinch. It just grinned as it saw the wreckage of the other one of the massive ships burning after the explosion cleared.

The creature sat on the grass silently, watching as smaller, tiny lights flared up momentarily here and there in the camp once again.

The creature listened closely, and soon he did manage to hear the death screams of the dying. The creature drank in the pain from them. The creature enjoyed the scene of the battle as long as it would last. And it had already lasted for three days, the camp and its surroundings constantly being fought over.

A distant howling could be heard, deep from the forest.

The 4th chapter, and I will likely keep a break now before getting anything more done.
The tension is building up though!




Chapter 4
When the ships set sail

Slash, slice and dice. That’s the way this is solved.

Tunnfe watched with amusement as Rhogogo swept his power axe, splitting a drone in two in the middle of its flight.

“This sector is clear, I am sure. The Tau have nothing but a few scraps here.” The ‘Phantom’ Mor’Igen twirled his splinter pistol in his fingers, before finally placing it in his holster.

They were at the center of the camp, next to a metal bunker. The corsair-captain was organized, having actually made a base of operations for his forces while the camp was still not 100%-secure. Tunnfe had not seen such care from a corsair before.

“Shall I call my brothers back?” Tunnfe asked. As much as she admired the corsair’s thoroughness, she was still relieved to hear that The Phantom was getting tired of this rather inefficient cleaning of the little camp. “We must have at least two thirds of the people that were here. The rest should be dead already.” Who cares if there even is some little tau creature hiding somewhere, anyway.

“I will take my time here, thank you very much. Your advice in this matter will help none.” The Phantom was confident that the members of the Banished Apocalypse knew nothing of his schemes, but Tunnfe had agents enough to know that the corsair was still looking for something.

Rhogogo was coming to them, not looking tired at all as he sheathed his axe and greeter the two.
“Greetings, Phantom. Greetings, sister.”

The Phantom ignored the greeting, but Tunnfe allowed herself a small nod. She stared at the muscular figure.

I have always wondered that he walks. His legs are just as strong as his hands, but for what does an artist need them for? Walking can be so easily replaced.

The Phantom strode back and forth, studying the holomaps that had been projected on to the ground around them.
The corsair is weak, but fast. Speed is not Rhogogo’s good side, however, which means that a grav-engine or two would help his combat skills immensely.

Rhogogo took a small drug-injector from his toolbelt and grinned in pain as his four arms stretched wide. The blood pouring through his limbs was rather visible, and The Phantom waved at his direction.

“Do you really have to keep doing that? If you want me to start inviting you to the meetings I will have to ask you not to spoil our appetite there. Ekkart at least has some manners and wisdom!”

Poor corsair. More rude than all the archons I have ever met, yet he feels nauseous at the sight of organs and blood. And he has a nerve to talk of ‘manners’ with the way he behaves.

Two figures dressed in teal-colored full body-armor of Eldar design walked to them. The other one took of his helm, and revealed the scarred, bald head beneath.

Ah, this is the one with most potential. When we get back to Comorragh, I might just test him a little.

“My captain, we have searched the cellars. Mission complete.”

“Good, good.” The Phantom nods, much more interested to converse with the newcomers than with the two haemonculi. “Prepare the ships, make a report of the events here, and get me a list of all prisoners. And… I think we will take that one with us too.”

The massive Tau-cruiser was the last one at the camp, all the other ones destroyed.

“Dear Phantom, may I bother you for a moment?” Tunnfe was startled to hear Rhogogo speak. Turning around, she discovered that the silent haemonculi had disarmed and strangled an eldar warrior who had apparently tried to sneak up to them.

“Craftworlders? I thought we killed them all when we shot their escort-ship!” The Phantom circled the corpse that had been pushed down by the haemonculus.

“A Striking Scorpion. An exarch, too”, the scarred corsair thought out loud to the group.
He is even aware of the aspects, it seems. His knowledge in the craftworlds could even surpass me.

“Did you hear that noise? I think there is another one, over there.” The other corsair pointed at a small warehouse near their location.

The craftworld-kin had survived the attack, sneaked around the camp and almost assassinated one of us. I just wonder who the exarch was going for.

“Rhogogo, bring back whoever you find preferably alive”, Tunnfe called after the other haemonculus that had already went off to investigate. She turned back to the corsairs. “You have a great hearing, young one. What is your name?”

The corsair was apparently embarrassed. He had taken of his helm, and from the look of it, he indeed was young. Less than a century old, in fact, only a mere child.

“They call me La. I am just a cadet to the Phantom Doom.”

The Phantom looked at the young corsair with a smile. “How good are you with reports?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued. “You could help your senior Ko here, who should already be back at the ship, making one.”

Tunnfe grinned as she saw an old, sturdy haemonculus at the roof of the metal bunker, holding out a bundle of necklaces, all of them with bright, glowing soulstones attached.

At least Ekkart has something better to do than the rest of us.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

No no no…. why no? You know why no.

They hate me. They never loved me. NO… they loved me, but now they hate me. I am foolish to have allowed that to happen.

They are going with the plan even with the risks. Even after what we saw. No… they shouldn’t. They know they shouldn’t. Yet they do.
I am a threat to them? No… I wouldn’t want to be a threat to them. I don’t want to stop them. I just want them out of here, out of my mansion, out of my realm. They can do their experiments elsewhere.

“Almost…” She still has a pretty voice though. I just wish she would stop doing this.

I am afraid to move. I am not threat to them. ‘A necessary precaution’, they say. Why? I won’t do anything to them, I just want them to stop this. Should I try to stop them?

Ainla stopped the timer on her wrist-computer and pulled the trigger. The Marquis shivered uncontrollably and he soon threw up on the floor.

Now… Were where we?

The door opened, and a young warrior is brought to them, held still by two incubi.

“Let me go!” the eldar shouted and struggled to get free from the grips of the strong bodyguards.

“I am going to make this very slow for you, sir Coerill…” The Marquis took up a syringe offered to him by his agent, and smiled fiendishly.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“We have plenty to do, my new friend, plenty indeed!” Thefan walked in long strides, his steps echoing in the tunnel they had entered.

“Where are we going? What are we going to do?” Yba was nervous, he had no idea why he was following this man.

He still has the splinter pistol close by. He doesn’t trust me, and has prepared to kill me if I try anything. What does he want of me anyway?

“Four things, all of them most important. Firstly, we will get out from the Marquis’s mansion. He will, or maybe already has, placed a price on our heads, as well as some of my accomplices.
“Second, I shall introduce you to them, for they are now accomplices with you, and your partners.
“Third, I have a very important thing to take care of, and I must not delay it for long. We travel swiftly underground, but it will not take long.
“Lastly, we shall attend a meeting, where you will be properly briefed and armed for your upcoming mission.” Thefan never stopped walking, only to look back a few times to make sure Yba was still coming behind him.

“Mission? I haven’t agreed to anything, you can’t just…”

“Shush, we don’t have much time. Just be silent and keep up with me if you have nothing better to talk about.”

The tunnel’s end was in sight, and they soon came to a small platform on a wide, dark pit.

Yba looked up and saw the lights of Comorragh above through a round hole on the ceiling. The pit was a secret dock, apparently, from where one could leave or enter the Marquis’s mansion using the secret tunnels.

Beneath, there were lights too, and once in a while, screams.

A skimmer-vehicle had been waiting for them, Thefan taking its controls immediately without stopping to look around like Yba had.

“Get in”, was all that he said after powering up the venom.

Yba silently got on to the skimmer, and he almost fell over when the engines suddenly went flying as the venom took off from the platform.

Unlike Yba had first thought, and secretly hoped, Thefan guided the vehicle down, not up. With arrow-fast speed, they went plummeting towards the depths of the pit, and out of the tunnel in what they had been. They had come to a massive cave that appeared to house an entire town of a sort.

Yba held on tight, and looked down to see a large slum-area, where slaves and apparently even some mistreated eldar too had their residences. The venom was dangerously close to the ground, and he was just in time to witness a beating of a small mon-keigh slave by two slave masters with whips before Thefan abruptly steered the skimmer back on normal state, and Yba felt as if he would soon throw up.

I don’t think I will ever get used to these things. Not that I often get a chance to be on board of an expensive raider or even a venom.

They soon passed the slave-district, and entered another underground area. Yba had never known that there was so much life below the spires and towers of High Comorragh.

They flew over one massive factory, one that no doubt was the workplace of many from the slums they had seen. Yba started to wonder where this Thefan was taking him.

Is he going to put me into slave-work? Surely he has something better for me.

Ahead, the cave came to an end, its massive wall looming in front of them. Yba realized how gigantic this underground section was. He tried to estimate the amount of slaves that lived here. It must have been at least a million, the numbers probably constantly shifting, depending on how many slaves are brought to replace the dead ones.

“This,” Thefan swept his hand around, “is our region. All the income from the labor of these minions goes to aid our cause. You will learn these places, and know most if its secrets.”

Yba was speechless. Is this man an archon? If not, then who? And why is he telling me all this?

His thinking ended as suddenly as the venom’s engines, and Thefan was already walking towards a small metal door on the cave’s gigantic wall. They were on a long, steel bridge. Yba looked back and saw it leading downwards to the factory they had passed. Below, he saw a toxic river he soon recognized as the river Khaídes its currents flowed towards a waterfall that disappeared into a huge tunnel that was barely visible from their current location. A few ragged houses were on its shores, apparently housing the slave-masters.

Yba followed Thefan towards the door, trying not to look over the rails again to avoid further vertigo.

“This is our lair. Well, not the lair, but one of our lairs. The one lair you will know, and report to.”

They had entered a platform overlooking a big hall below. Yba saw more and more platforms above, going possibly as high as the cave’s ceiling and back to surface, maybe. Most were connected by bridges, but some appeared to be unreachable by other than flying methods, simply hanging by chains from higher platforms.

They went down a stairway that led out of the hall and inside a grim, dark, stone-made corridor. A man in kabalite-armor was waiting for them. He had white hair and a few old scars in his bitter-looking face. He stared at them sharply, but gave a small nod to Thefan.

“This is Vorathio, of the great old house of Unz’navick. We like to call him Vorre!” Thefan talked happily, but Vorathio looked at him with a stare that told Yba that their relation was not very warm.

“And who is this? What do we need him for?” the warrior asked, staring now at Yba with angry, cold eyes.

Yba was about to start a quick speech he had rehearsed in his mind, to introduce himself, but Thefan spoke first.

“Don’t worry, he will be most useful to us. But we can get to who he is later. For now, I think we have that one important thing to take care of, if you remember?”

Was that… a compliment from him? He must have heard of me. I have done all my jobs well, after all, maybe I am famous for my skills.

The three went down the corridor, and Yba felt a moment of pride. It soon occurred to him, however, that ‘useful’ could mean something other than skill. He wondered what these weird people wanted from him.

They went on, through many stairs, until Yba thought that they must already be on the other side of Comorragh, or maybe outside of Comorragh, deep in webway. But down they kept going. He puffed as he tried to keep up with the two figures walking ahead of him.

Yba was sweating and his heart raced when they finally reached a crude stone door at the end of the corridor. Vorathio stepped to the side, and Thefan walked past him to open the door. Yba decided he wanted to go inside rather than stay outside with the warrior.

As soon as he had gone through the door, it was slammed shut behind him.

The room was a laboratory, and Yba saw its owner, an excited looking young haemonculus, chatting with the old eldar man he knew as Thefan. Yba knew the haemonculi only as mad scientists, and he decided he had been correct when he looked at the blood-stained apron, the hairy face, the extra mechanical limbs, and the weird bone-like constructs that kept the haemonculi in mid-air as he moved around.

“…bring it here, now. I will be going out again soon.”

The haemonculus nodded eagerly and turned to go deeper inside the dark laboratory.

Yba walked up to Thefan, and nervously asked him: “Aren’t you going to introduce me this time?”

“There is no need.” Thefan answered shortly in a cold but calm tone, and Yba decided it was best not to ask anything else.

Soon, the haemonculus came back, dragging a big metal rack that held a large, flesh-like construct that had multiple hooks, blades and spikes attached to it.

“Here it is, master! It is finally complete, and it has everything you asked for!”

“Good, good. Did you remember to insert the device I gave you?”

“Yes, yes. Your secret weapon is inside its armor. May I ask, is it a soultrap?”

Thefan was quiet for quick moment before he replied. “Yes, you are correct, it is a soultrap. I see that there is no keeping secret of what I wanted to install in it.”

Thefan glared at him with a stare that made the haemonculus look afraid, and he was about to start pleading for his life, but Thefan suddenly laughed in a rumbling voice that scared Yba in turn. The haemonculus was relieved however.

“Shall I turn it on? I don’t have anything good here to test that secret weapon of yours on, well, except if…” The haemonculus turned to look at Yba hungrily while talking, but Thefan stopped him.

“He will not serve us in the manner of getting killed by your machine, Vazek. He has better things to do. But, indeed, I would like to see if it can move, so go ahead and turn it on.”

The haemonculus looked slightly disappointed when he turned the construct on by keeping his hand on the carapace of the machine and at the same time tinkering it a little with his thin, mechanical arms.

“I present to you, the… well, I will leave the naming part to you. I am never good with names.” The haemonculus, Vazek, grinned and backed away from the machine as it started shaking and tearing at the rack that held it still.

They watched the construct, but it soon seemed to calm down and stop moving. Thefan had watched it intently, but was apparently disappointed with the result.

“Thank you for this presentation. I will come back soon to find another place to store him. Until we meet again, Vazek.” He smiled at the haemonculus and turned for the exit, calmly turning Yba around as well.

“I am glad to be of assistance, master Thefan!” Vazek shouted back just before the door had been slammed shut once more.

Vorathio looked at Thefan questioningly, and soon received a nod as a reply from him. The warrior grinned and Thefan started to walk up the stairs once again, still holding Yba by his arm.

Vorathio opened the door and went inside the laboratory instead of going along with them.

“What is he doing?” Yba asked.

“Don’t worry, Vorre will be joining us shortly.”

Two quick shots from a splinter pistol are heard, and Yba looked back to see the warrior soon coming back and closing the door behind him.

“It wasn’t there, but I placed the other one you had”, the warrior said to Thefan.

“Good, good. Then it should handle the rest by itself.”

A horrible crushing sound is heard, and Yba saw the stone door leaking dark red blood from its sides.

“What… what happened?” Yba asked in shock as he was almost dragged up the stairs by Thefan.

“Never trust a haemonculus, kid.” Vorathio grinned as he walked past him.

Yba heard yet a splat behind the door, and a ghastly sound followed by an eerie scream, until Thefan forcefully pulled him by his arm and gestured to follow.

And so they began to ascend up the stairs back towards from where they had come.

Chapter 5 is finished, I will start chapter 6 this weekend, will start posting again sometime next week.

Coming ahead (slightly spoilers, but not that much):
- Lots of prisoners
- A scarred face that has been seen once before in a whole other situation, as seen by a whole other person
- Something very creepy in a very very dark room, alone.
- Sixteen happy human pirates in their happy human-made spaceship (Made by humans, not of humans).
- Riddle-speech that I just came up with

In chapter 6, more of Yba and other more familiar characters!

Quote :

Beneath, there were lights too, and once in a while, screams.

A simple, short yet very atmospheric sentence ...

It was interesting to see more of the Marquis, though I am still trying to work out what he's up to or what, exactly, is doing the driving there. I will be reading to find out more ...

I look forward to seeing what happens next!

Chapter 5
Captives for unknown

NO!

It was quiet, it was dark. She had been dreaming.

Nightmares. They continue to haunt me. Why has fate been so cruel to me? Why has no one come to help? What happened to Marchel’Fir?

She slowly sat up, the rough floor beneath feeling cold to the touch.

Her vision was foggy, but she saw a figure sitting with a relaxed posture. The figure had spikes around its body, like a daemon she had always feared of.

It saw me, it saw me… this is horrible.

Sweat ran down her as she slowly dragged herself away from the figure that had stood up from the floor. Tears were blurring her eyes even more.

“Don’t be afraid, sweetie.” The deep, calm voice of an eldar male made her freeze for a moment. It was no daemon. She was still afraid though. “They won’t be hurting you. He needs you for something else.”

A weapon… he is carrying a weapon.

“Haha, I’m not going to shoot you either. Here, see, I’m placing my gun on the floor, look.” It was indeed a shuriken catapult. She had held one before, and even shot with one.

I only wanted to be helpful to the autarch, I never wanted to go to someplace dangerous. That one time was just a lucky hit, I didn’t aim for any target.

“Why…why a-are you keeping me h-here?” Talking felt painful, she felt as she had been choked with tears.

“It is just the way of the galaxy for these things to happen. The Great Wheel is not a place of peace, you surely know that.” Why can’t it be peace? Oh, I think I will cry again soon.

She had backed away to a wall, and she noticed the small space she was in. It was a prison cell. Only now did she see the iron bars that separated the two eldar from each other.

“I... I am a pri-prisoner?” She felt dizzy as she rubbed her eyes with her shaking hands.

“Don’t worry, your prison will keep you prisoner for a time of short duration only. During that time, I will be here, and you have to get used to all that your life will now contain here. Food will be brought to you soon.”

“I am not hungry. I ate before we went out to see the Tau.”

“Then you have not eaten for two days, sweetie.”

Two… days? How long has it been? What has happened during that time? No… I don’t want to remember.
She suddenly felt hungrier than she ever had. She just had not thought about food.

He continued to speak. “You can call me Ko. What is your name?”

Yulethan’ia Bezeania, the Daughter of Linearho’fis Bezeania the Exarch and Theli’ia Bezeania the Gardener, 95th wing of the Southeast section of the Craftworld Zanis-Kiam…

“Yu-Yule… Yulethan’ia, Beze…Bezeania…” She covered her face as tears came again, the memory of her parents strong in her mind.

“Your memories pain you. That is common in life. My memories pain me more than you can ever imagine.” Ko had come right to the front of the cell, keeping his hands around the iron bars.

“I do not want war. I don’t want to see death, or to give death!”

“Neither do I. Yet I have killed many.” Yulethan’ia shivered at his words. “I have killed mon-keigh. Tau, orks, dark-kin, craftworlders. Necrons, too.” He sat down on to the floor again, and stared at Yule’s eyes that were full of fear. “And do you know why?” He presented a small purse. “I kill, for gain. Not to preserve, not to protect others. Personal gain always comes first.” He threw the purse up in the air before nimbly catching it. Inside the moneybag, coins rattled. “The survival of my friends around me is only a bonus.” Opening the purse, he presented a wide variety of different currencies.

“The Aspect Warriors don’t kill for wealth. They kill so that the Eldar race itself as a whole would survive! They fight for the good of us all.”

Ko smiled, and Yule saw his broken teeth, and finally noticed the many scars he had on his face.

“If I survive, the race has survived, sweetie.” He stood up and walked away to a distant door Yule had not seen before.

The light from the opening door made her close her eyes. Soon, darkness returned, and she was alone. She curled up and cried herself to sleep on the rough floor.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________




The chamber was pitch black, nothing could be seen, not even by eyes of a Dark Eldar. Occasionally, sounds were heard as the creature twisted and rolled on the cold stone floor.

Alone. Alone.

The creature shook its own head with his twitching, long fingers.

Alone. Alone.

The creature tried to stand up, but fell back on the floor, chains rattling. The creature turned its head towards the ceiling and let out an agonized scream.

ALONE!!

The creature suddenly flared a dim light on the room, just for an instant, as the scars all around its body flashed with a sickening red light.

No, not again… now they will come again, and they won’t bring anything for me. They will not bring me food. Not even cousin.

The creature tried to stand up again, but the chains held strong.

The creature concentrated madly, and the scars flared up again, and the creature tried to pull the shackles and stand up once more. The chains of the shackles groaned, but before they were broken, the walls came alive.

A huge, bright blue color took form in the stone wall next to the creature.

The circle. Cousin is not coming alone. Cousin will bring the immune to me. And… something else, too. Someone else.

‘The circle’ was a light shaped like a round circle with multiple patterns and shapes inside. An unknown mechanism made the walls fade wherever the circle touched, and soon a bright, luxurious looking room, like one from a mansion, was seen on the other side.

Three figures came. One of them roughly pushed another to the chamber.

Food. They did bring me food. They are not angry.

The creature stared at the eldar who had fallen over from the push. He, the eldar, stood up and faced the creature in the chamber, his face sweaty. One of the figures behind him turned around and walked away, while the other one, the one that had pushed the first one inside, muttered something and touched the panel that was partly visible from inside the chamber.

The wall began gradually appearing once more, and once it was fully there, the circle faded.

“Don’t do this to me!” the male eldar shouted to the wall, pounding it with his fists.

The creature licked its lips as it advanced towards the shivering figure.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


“For another victory, lads!” The human raised his mug and sipped the muddy brew in it, grinning so that the liquid spilled over his mouth. The ship’s control room was populated by four happy mon-keigh, chattering to each other.

“Where to next, boss?” The brawny man asked from the captain, after patiently waiting for him to finish his drink.
Their ship was floating in space now, engines powered down. They had been counting their loot from their last raid.

“We should find some good harbor to sell all scraps now.” A third person suggested, while at the same time carefully polishing his prized bolter gun.

“Not to Cadia, our contact there has been imprisoned from what I hear.” Their ship’s engineer always knew more than he let the others know. He had a way of getting secret messages that the other pirates had been trying to pry out.

“Well… how about those Tau? They were trustworthy enough last time because they got a good bargain. Boss, you remember?” The brawny man yawned as he took a seat next to the pilot’s one.

The captain pondered for a moment. “I don’t think we could trust those guys. Our cargo this time could be something they don’t want.”
“Now, how do ya know that, boss?”

A sudden rumble shook the ship a little, and everyone was (when measured in mon-keigh) instantly alert and looking at the radars and listening carefully.

“What the hell just happened?” the captain asked from his communicator.

“No idea, cap’n, maybe nothing. Jory is on patrol, he will notice if something is wrong.” The hasty reply had a nervous undertone in it.
The captain however, showed no trace of fear at small shaking.

“Well, report if you find…” a sudden noise froze him. A chilly, childlike voice spoke in an ethereal tone that echoed all around the room.
“What is that? What is it saying?” The man with the bolter stood up and listened.

“I dunno. Sounds a little eldarish, maybe?” The engineer had stood up as well, forgotten all about the radars while listening to the eerie, riddle-like speech.

“Hey, the translator!” The captain raced for the device that had been attached to their ship as an expensive modification he had often regretted.

Maybe this will be some use this time.

Turning it on, the pitch black screen started to hum and listen to the speech the voice still gave.

*Beep*
Green-colored letters started flooding the screen as it translated what it heard.
-Language identified. Eldar, database 75. Scripting…-

The voice started laughing, and the captain noticed all of his three crewmembers in the room shivering with fear.
“Do not fear, it is just a sound.”

The riddle-like talking began once more, and the translator went to work. The captain went over to look at what it wrote up.

*Beep*
Text flowed through the screen, writing the words it had heard.
-“Fifteen. to. die. yes. yes. the. sensors. do. not. lie. the. upstart. came. the. upstart. came. no. one. knows. why. no. one. knows. no. one. knows. no. one. knows. none. but. I.”-

“What is this…” The captain felt the first touches of horror reaching up on him. The engineer had walked over to him.

“15… don’t we have 15 crew in here?” he asked.

The brawny man answered. “No, no. You always forget Sean, the guy with the broken tooth.”

The speech kept going, but at a faster pace, and louder.
*Beep*
-“Ten. to. kill. yes. yes. oh. the. thrill. the. upstart. follows. the. upstart. follows. but. he. understands. none. the. upstart. is. wise. but. he. understands. understands. he. not.”

The reinforced blast door leading out to the bedrooms of the ship fell over as the result of an explosion that made the ship shake once more. The captain fell over, his reflexes not quick enough to grab a hold of something for balance. Text kept coming on the screen of the translator.

*Beep*
-“Four. more. how. shall. it. go. that. the. upstart. will. allow. me. no. no. to. fight. on. my. own. own. sword. thirsts. the. sword. thirsts. for. blood. blood. pistols. and. grenades. no. no. no. artful. only. is. the. sword. the. sword. of. which. I. own.”-

The captain stood up only to notice he could see very little.

The lights are out! How?

He reached out for his pistol and helped the engineer get up.

He rallied the other two to his side and ran for the door. He could hear the beep of the device behind him again as the eldar-gibberish continued.

The hall was dim, but he soon saw movement, a figure slowly coming towards him. He raised his pistol and fired blindly.

And he fired again, and again.

The figure kept slowly coming towards him, even after a few shots from the bolter from the man behind the captain.

The two just stood in horror as the figure slowly approached. The captain backed away on the wall, not knowing what to do. His heart raced.

All of sudden, the figure went flying like it had engines of its own, and the captain had just enough time to see the bloodied face of Jory before the corpse struck him and the impact threw them both on the floor.

The captain saw yet the stab and splatter as the man with the bolter collapsed, and a figure clad in bright clothing walking past him, before his eyes closed.



Breathe… you are not dead yet, breathe!

He heard death screams, likely from the engineer, as he slowly pushed away the battered and bloody corpse of their comrade their opponent had used as a shield. The captain was relieved that at the very least, Jory had already been dead when they fired, judging from the stabs he had.

He took the bolter that was lying next to the bloodied body of his another comrade, and turned towards the corridor leading to the control room where the intruder had went to.

He stood still, pointing the bolter in the dim light, for a time that felt like hours. Nothing happened. The voice was gone too.

He slowly, very slowly advanced towards the room.

Wait… what?

He turned around and saw a dark figure that had been sneaking towards him in the lightless corridor. The figure leapt backwards and disappeared around the corner as the captain was about to open fire.

The captain ran to the control room before the figure would decide to go after him, only partly noticing the two gory corpses around him.

I will make my last stand here.

“Come and get me, coward!” he yelled to the darkness around him, and soon, the eerie speech returned. It laughed.

The captain only heard the sound of the gun being fired. He felt numb as he stared at the hole that had appeared in his chest. He backed away on to a desk, and soon he collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily his last breath. Blood trickled out of his mouth.

He slowly lowered his head on the floor and peacefully closed his eyes, one last time.


*Beep*
-“Upstart. has. dark. light. oh. yes. the. upstart. has. been. collecting. try. as. I. might. I. cannot. bring. forth. the. beautiful. effect. of. dark. light.”-

*Beep*
-“Silent. you. clown. go. make. sure. this. cursed. ship. has. what. I. came. for.”-

The eerie laughter started again, and the eldar in the black cape cursed again at the harlequin that had suddenly appeared next to the translator.

The harlequin stared the device with amusement before starting to laugh again.

Coming up on chapter 6:
- Yba is training with good ol' Vorre
- A soulstone mirror
- 'All shall be revealed'
- People die because they know too much
- Ekkart the haemonculus uses the word 'Hex' as a curseword

Chapter 6
Disabling of knowledge


“Hurry up, young one. You are late already.”


Just let me catch my breath… please… “I am sorry, Thefan, I did not mean to. I…”

“Spare excuses for later. I do not have the time to listen them at this moment.”

“Be damned all our plans if we won’t get to the point right now!” the old, wrinkly yet feisty eldar female slammed the table with her fist, causing a small goblet to flip over, the liquid inside pouring out. “We have not got much time, Thefan! And we certainly do not need… this… this…” She leaves her sentence unfinished, and another one continues.

“…kid? Isn’t that right, kid?” Vorathio smiled a careful smile. He had been rather quiet and calm, not wanting to offend any of the others at the meeting.

“Dear sir Unz’navick, I have full faith that this, excuse my words, mercenary”, the armored eldar nodded to Yba, “will be of use to us. After all, he is sir Thefan’s favorite, and looks can be quite deceiving.” He relaxed back on his seat, but soon quickly added, “No offense meant, of course.”

“Indeed. Good old Vorre here has already accepted him as his pair, they will be our lead agents.” Thefan smiled widely, and patted Yba on the shoulder before guiding him to a seat right next to him.

All these days, and yet he has not even told my name to anyone. And I still do not know what exactly the plan will be for my mission. Or why have I been recruited for this.
Yba had learned not to ask much, but instead to receive bits of information once in a while.

Vorathio Unz’navick, or ‘Vorre’, had mostly been keeping company for him the past two weeks. He had put Yba on target practice, where Yba had scored 4/10 with a splinter rifle, and 0/10 with a blaster. The slaves had been happy, because only four of them had been killed, but Vorathio was not. They had also sparred with blunt knives, but that certainly did not mean they didn’t hurt. Vorathio enjoyed whenever Yba failed, but still kept dutifully and patiently training him, making Yba’s life a living hell on the small complex Thefan’s lair was in.

Ifgen’Lassnar was even worse, but luckily Yba had met her only a few times so far. She usually kept her face hidden behind her golden and black mask. She arrived every few days, flying on the bridge, from the same way Yba had come from, with her wings that marked her as a scourge.

Riflor Uzerafick was a trueborn, but much less arrogant than Yba had ever seen. He was often polite and capable of hiding his resentment behind his logical thinking and ideas. He had completely black armor, not giving any symbol for any kabal, but he was certainly a warrior, and a skilled one.

“What happened to the other one, then?” Ifgen croaked in her horrible voice.

“Sadly, Coerill is not among us anymore…” Thefan began, but Ifgen interrupted before he could continue.
“Find his body, surely Vazek could resurrect him. That kid had something.”

“I am afraid that I can neither find his body, nor bring him to Vazek. Both of them have faced True Death, and will no longer be of use to any of us.”
“What? Where is Vazek?”

“I am looking for a replacement for him, worry not. His death has come very useful for us, as you will soon see.”
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Ekkart placed the soulstone on the pedestal. His fourth metal arm extending from his back quickly went over to break the glowing gem apart, while his fifth arm was preparing for a container.

He was at his work very intensively, which was why Tunnfe was surprised to be noticed.
“What is it, sister?” he grunted without even turning around.

“You know what it is. The problem. We need him dead, soon.” the other haemonculus replied.

Footsteps echoed from the other side of the door. Both of the haemonculi stood still for a moment, listening at the sounds of the corsair ship. The purple walls of the room fitted well with all the devices and racks. A good haemonculus could have a laboratory anywhere he wanted to.

They both heard the tiniest of noise, after which they began talking once more.

“Ah, yes, the problem.” Ekkart had a calm, clear and fatherly voice that Tunnfe always enjoyed to listen. “Rhogogo will die soon enough. I have a vial of the glassplague, ready for you whenever you wish. Just enough for one sturdy like him.” They heard a small clank behind the door.

“Yes, good.” Tunnfe spoke stiffly, her pointed ears sharply alert as she took a few quick glances at the door. “How is your progress coming along in here?”

“Why, come and take a look. Bright, nice soulstones.” Ekkart turned his head to show his old, withered bald face that would have made even the roughest of corsairs flinch.

Tunnfe peeked behind him to look at the device that Ekkart had managed to create with his newest ingredients. The small mirror reflected another place, a dark laboratory, a little like the one they were currently in. “That is Comorragh, clearly. But where, I can not tell.”

“Do not worry, I have seen who comes there. The original master of this little chamber has died recently, but as you can see, the corpse is still there. Just not in the form we imagined.” Ekkart had lowered his voice to a whisper now.

They were silent again, and after a long pause, footsteps echoed once more behind the door.

“The mirror is pretty, indeed.” Tunnfe said in a pretense manner.

Ekkart’s tone changed when he next spoke. “The Phantom is a curious young one, sister.” The footsteps were gone now, faded away from the corridor on the other side of the door.

“What do you have?”

“I do not think we will need anything for this. Just keep your scissorhands ready in case you need self-defense. But be safe, and stay out of fights. He will come soon.”

“When?”

“Soon, but his contacts have been… unstable.”

“Why?”

“As always. Humans.”

“I will inform Rhogogo. We all need to be very careful before we reach Comorragh. It is about to start without us, and we may arrive to the losing side.”

“Do not worry. As you know, we have lots of tricks ready. You should just stay out of the fights, we can handle them.”

“Good luck, brother.” Tunnfe strode away from the room, the automatic door closing behind her.

In the mirror of soulstones, a young, nervous face appeared.

Ekkart raised his eyebrow. “Now… who on the Hex are you?”

____

“Sir Ekkart, you have a visitor. Shall I open the door?” the bored corsair announced from the radio that had been quietly lurking on the haemonculus’s desk.

“I have given you a list of people to accept in if they ask for me, and a list of people not to. In which list is this person, mm?” His reply was annoyed one, for he had been interrupted on more interesting matters.

“Neither. She is not from the ship. She just came from the webway, and says that she will be leaving soon.”

“Aah. Let her in.” Before Ekkart had even finished talking, the curved, ornate door opened, revealing an eldar lady with immensely long dark hair. She was dressed in a fine dark green outfit, for combat use, it seemed. Her hair flowed around her shoulders, and almost reached the floor under them. The haemonculus gave a polite greeting. “Welcome, welcome, Lanlia, my dear.”

“Do not go that way, surgeon. I have not been granted much time in this ship, and there is a lot to go through.”

“Really? Who is the one who grants you your time? I have lost track on who do you work for these days.” A flash of anger flared on Lanlia’s face, and the haemonculus grinned while secretly searching the desk behind him with his fourth arm. “Once it was the beautiful girl, the dancer, who you followed. Then it was that rogue little scientist, then your father. And now who? The corsairs? Dear, dear, can I even trust you now?”

“I will not go with your games, surgeon. There is not much time. Thefan has organized his people. Subject number 3 is on the loose, and it has more security backing it than I can count. I hear that Vorathio was almost captured by it.”

“How unfortunate of him, my dear.” Ekkart’s firm metal fingers curled around the stinger pistol on the table, and ever so slowly, lifted it up and retracted beneath the haemonculus’s cloak.

“Where”, Lanlia kicked frustratingly in thin air towards Ekkart, “is subject number 1? Do you have it or not? And where”, she took a few steps forward, “is subject number 2? Did it escape?”

“Worry not. Subject two is at my control. She is fine and well, and I will try to keep her away from the battles to come.” Ekkart activated the small grav-field at his feet, and stood up, raising a few inches from the ground. “Subject one, is, according to our recent knowledge, at the possession of subject three.” He floated towards Lanlia, who had backed away to the door. “…and, my dear, due to the unfortunate freedom of three, and his control over one, they are both to be terminated. With the help of Thefan, or not.”

“So… this is why you need the corsairs?”

“Exactly, my dear. You help them too, simply by coming here. They watch, and they learn.” He leaned towards Lanlia, grinning a fiendish smile.

“I am not at their service. I am of my father, no one else. I will ensure, that the Marquis dies. You can have its corpse if you want. After this, I will have nothing to do with you, surgeon”, she pointer her finger at the haemonculus, and poked him on the chest. “ever again.”

“But dear Lanlia, if you kill the Marquis, you will never be rid of us. And you know why.”
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


“All shall now be revealed.”

Woryc flinched, and almost hit his head at the pipes above him.

Why did he come here? Who is that?

The graceful female walked out of the platform, to the row of grim looking old men. Six archons.

Woryc backed away further, unable to see their faces anymore, but also safe from the woman's glances.

“We have heard enough of your chattering! Tell me what is going to happen!”

Woryc had not recognized the old archon until he heard his voice.

Hoolon Jree, of the kabal of Brightened Star. I always wondered how he has survived this long as an archon. I suppose no one would even want to rule the kabal in his place. What an idiot…

“Be quiet, you fool! The Marquis is what is happening, of course! We are doomed already, the man is dangerous and surely you know it!”

Who is that? I think I have seen him sometime… dad must have brought him over a time or two, for briefings and such. Impatient like Hoolon, but probably more successful than him.

Woryc had no idea anymore on why had he spied his father, archon Armahad. The journey had taken him to the basements of the Dread Castle, the residence of a long dead noble. He knew the place was popular spot for secret meetings, but he wondered why had his father had come so carelessly. Woryc was afraid.

He still couldn’t see the woman well from his hiding spot, but she had apparently turned on an engine that began a slideshow that was projected on the wall of the pit.

The basement was of unique design. The round structure had stairs on the other end, a wide table with plenty of seats, and of course the pit. Woryc was not sure, but he thought that the pit went quite far down the castle, and he had only a few minutes ago noticed that it continued above as well. Maybe it was a landing zone for skimmers, who could fly it up or down, in or out of the castle. The pit also had a little platform that served as an elevator. The archons had gathered to wait on the seats long before the woman had arrived with it.

“We all share a common goal. A goal to thrive in the Dark City.” She began to speak again, after a pause, and Woryc pondered in his mind had he heard that voice before. “Frencsis Sarkanozin is the enemy of all of us.”

“All of us? I can’t see Vect here, supporting his city against this invader!” Hoolon spoke once more, his balding face red with anger. Armahad was sitting next to Hoolon, and Woryc could see his father trying to calm down the archon who was upset.

“Please, continue, Ainla.” A new voice that Woryc instantly recognized.

The archon of the Kabal of Bleeding Spear! What was his name… Well, I remember how friendly he always was. Dad sparred with him once, too. He promised that they would teach me dueling sometime.

Woryc tried to move a bit so that he could see more from the row of archons again. His hiding spot didn't give him a good view of the scene, but he could hear well enough. He decided to back down a bit, behind the pipes, after deciding that listening to them was enough.

“The Marquis is preparing to invade, like you said. However, the Supreme Overlord cannot be bothered with this, for the target is only the southernmost districts of High Comorragh, and the Supreme Overlord will pass the case as rivalry fighting. And, as you all are secretly aware, Asdrubael Vect has grudges against all of you. He is more likely to help the Marquis to establish himself as a trader and military enforcer, and he would gladly get rid of the weakest kabals in High Comorragh, right?” Some, or maybe all, of the archons stood up and exclaimed their arguments against them being the weakest kabals of High Comorragh. But they soon went silent, perhaps realizing that what was said was true, or something else Woryc did not see. In his mind, however, Woryc silently agreed of the weak position all of the kabals had around his home. He had been born to the lowest of High Comorragh, no matter how wealthy he was. The woman, Ainla (Woryc still kept thinking where had he heard that name), continued. “We have to take action ourselves.”

“What do you propose? That we storm into his manor?” said archon of the Kabal of Bleeding Spear. His voice had come more serious now. “Vect would not see kindly that multiple kabals take up arms against a single trader. We need undercover workers, mercenaries preferably. Anyone who can kill the Marquis, and not be connected to any of us on failure.”

“Indeed, archon Teifor.” (Teifor, that’s the one, Woryc thought.) “I am sure that many of you here know this man.” Another picture was shown, but Woryc could not see it from that angle.

He cursed at his choise of hiding and crouched down more just in case someone could see his head.

Behind him were the vents from where he planned to take his leave once this meeting was over. He had to look around once in a while just to be sure they were still there, and maybe also because he was afraid that someone else was interested in what the archons talked about with this woman.

“I refuse.” Woryc gasped as he heard his father’s voice. “I do not trust this man, and I will not work with him. We should look for help from the southern aviaries, where the scourges reside.”

“That is exactly why we need Thefan. He controls the scourges and gangs of this region. He can also provide expendable units as meat-shields.” Ainla’s voice was beautiful and Woryc finally remembered her as the first lady he had asked for the dance at the Marquis’s feast. She had refused, of course, but at least Woryc had gotten a seat next to her when food was served.

She was so pretty… I wonder if I could go talk to her now… I mean after this.

“Slaves and scourges won’t be enough.” A whole new voice, grim and deep, spoke. Woryc had not heard this archon before. “We need skilled assassins, distractions, at least two skimmers, a sniper, and someone undercover. The Marquis is far more dangerous than you think.”

“Hear, hear! He has a point, there!” Teifor clapped his hands, but Woryc could not tell was the archon being sarcastic.

“Dangerous? He is just a madman!” Hoolon sounded more angry and confused than usual, and he apparently had slammed his fist on the table.

“That is true, Hoolon. We only need to ensure his security will not be of trouble.” Armahad spoke calmly.

A chair scraped the floor as it was pushed back. Someone had stood up.

“Pretty Ainla there, you must know even more than we do of this. Tell them, who is the Marquis?” the archon Woryc had heard talk second spoke.

“I will change my mind now. I will have nothing to do with you. Who cares about the Marquis? He is nothing, nothing at all!” Another new voice. Woryc recognized the poor, skinny archon who lived next door to them and who came visiting them once in a while, plotting with his father.

Woryc had time to see him striding towards the stairs from where they all had entered, and then the explosion came.

Shards of crystal flew, and Woryc heard the shouts and the desperate escape methods. He shielded his eyes from the light that appeared to come from the direction of the tables, and a shard pierced through his hand, while another tore a gap on a pipe above him, which started to leak gas.

He stared at his right hand in horror and crawled backwards to the vents. He took one look back, seeing three figures walking towards the platform on the pit. He did not know who these three were, but one thing he noticed. His father was not one of them.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


The creature howled. Its bared teeth dripped with blood from its prey, the drops staining the already messy grass.

Must… control… breath.

Panting, the creature prowled through the forest, already searching for another prey.

Must… find… more… food.

Midnight was closing in. Trees began to be more scattered as the creature entered the plains. The creature climbed up to a hill overlooking the area.

It is empty. They are gone.

Ahead of the creature, smoking ruins were seen. There were no lights, no night patrols, nothing.

No. Something.

The creature sniffed the air, and raised its head to look at the cloudless sky and the twinkling stars.

The bright dots. They don’t move.

Yet, one of the stars moved. It got bigger and bigger, and suddenly it was a spaceship, dark and bleak, but elegant in design. It was not as large as the Tau cruisers had been, but it still almost covered the entire camp beneath it.

More food.

The creature grinned, baring its teeth. Then it sniffed the air again.

They are from home!

Chapter 7
Expectation of war

Customers… they always complain in three stages.

She clipped her scissors together, and then twirled them around her fingers.

First, they mock me directly, threatening with most unimaginative insults.

She yawned, and took a seat, watching the noble figure walking away in disgust, stopping by the cash register.

Then they complain to the superior. They demand someone else, and she listens, she calms them down, and makes them restore their faith to us. But they don’t expect to see me again.

She brushed one ponytail of her hair away from her eyes, and looked at the gloomy woman behind the cash register.

And finally, they complain to themselves on the way out. They share their illusions, and think of things they have not seen or heard, and tell them as the truth.

“You look more angry than usual today, Mozarz.” The woman behind the cash register had her eyes closed and hidden behind her hair as she leaned on to the desk. “Again I promised something I will not do. You will stay. I got no one else to employ, after all.” She frowned, her black lips tightening. She never smiled.

Mozarz suddenly tossed the scissors like a dart, and they struck a soft chair next to the mirror (where she worked), and pierced it, causing the beautiful red patterns on the blue canvas to break. “You would be angry too if everyone would hate you as much.”

“No one loves me, Mozarz. Is there a difference in that?” Her straight, long red hair almost covered her eyes and her pale skin, but she didn’t care. She rarely wanted to see anything.

“You are less worthless than me. That makes a difference.”

“Hate does not make a person meaningless, Mozarz.”

“If it would, I would be rotting on the lap of She-Who-Thirsts.”

“You do your job so exceedingly well. That is more that can be said of most.”

“I can cut hairs, so what? Anyone can cut hairs. And you know what they say of me.”

“I know what they say of you, I know what they think of you, I know what you say of them, I know what you think of them. But do you know what you think of yourself, Mozarz?”

“I know full well who I am! You don’t know anything!” Mozarz shouted and she was about to bang her head against the wall, when she suddenly dreamed.

-

“The chamber has been sealed! There is no way out!” Where am I?

“Come, come, my lord, you will want to see this.” Who is that?

“No, no! Don’t do this!” What do I want not to be done?

“One of them will die. To make it fun, the killing happens by chance, you see, my lord.” I think he is a servant of someone…

“The lights are purple. The masters of the renegade coven are here. And you…” Third person… He looks like a lord, I think. But who is he?

“Please, no! Let me out of here!” Do I always sound so desperate?

“But my lord, I am your loyal servant. You must keep them away from me! And this experiment is important!” Yup, he is a servant…

…of this lord, who is talking again. “He was a servant, and now he is about to be killed there too, and not by enemies, but by your silly ‘experiments’. I had no use for your predecessor after his tasks were done, and I have no need for this. Kill them both if you have to, I will not stay here. You will.” Who was a servant? Oh, there is a fourth person. Locked up with me. Who is he? Have they both worked for this ‘lord’? Have I?

“My lord… please…………. Well. Then. I suppose I have to escape. And so should you. But… this experiment has to be finished. Let’s see who I will be going with…” Oh, it’s a haemonculus.


Mozarz woke up in her bed. ‘Her bed’ was actually just the one she had rented from the apartment right above the barber shop.

She must have carried me up here. Nice of her.

She brushed away both of the ponytails in her hair away from her face.
Then she fell asleep.


___________________________________________________________________________________

Yule didn’t feel well. She had been coughing once in a while all morning, and when Ko had brought her breakfast, she did not eat.

“Your forehead looks burned up.” Ko spoke to her casually, in a manner that Yule decided to mean that he didn’t really care. “You could be ill.”

The cell was dark, but she had gotten rather used to it. It was not like there were many places to go, after all, and she remembered every spot in the tiny area she had. Her guard, Ko, took her regularly out to a rather nice and clean lavatory, but she still had not seen really anything of the ship she was in.

She had given up on talking to Ko. He spoke to her often, but she rarely answered.

He is cruel and evil. He is just guarding me, just because he is told to do so. Oh I want to get out of here…

She really had no escape plans at all. They had taken everything from her but the grey bodysuit she was now forced to wear. It was warm and covered all but her face, but she missed the guardian armor. It had given her a small sense of security. Of the weapons, she missed none. She doubted she knew how to use them anymore.

She was sitting at the corner of the cell, leaning to the wall. She felt like sleeping but it had come difficult with the guard who seemed to be always present.

“Look now, sweetie.” Ko had come right next to the bars again, and stared at Yule. “I wouldn’t like it if you got sick.”

Yule raised her head, and answered with a cold stare. “I am fine, thank you very much.”

The corsair sighed, and walked away. Yule had already turned her attention back on staring at the opposite end of the wall, when the door was suddenly closed. Ko had left.

He never leaves me alone in here… what’s he doing?

She stood up and walked to the bars. After a moment of consideration, she tried twisting them, shaking them, bending them, but nothing helped. She felt hot and sweaty.

It’s no use… I can’t get out of here unless they let me.

She sat on the cold floor again. She felt a little dizzy after standing. After a minute of silence, she had another idea.

Mother said I was never good at this, but I can always try…

Concentrating deeply, she tried to focus her mind, and use the gift the eldar had been given, psychic abilities.

Then she coughed up violently. She placed her hand on her mouth when she coughed up more, and she felt like her head was on fire.

When the cough had finally stopped, she noticed her hand was full of blood. She shivered, and wished that she had a napkin. Her nose was bleeding.

+As soon as I leave you for just a while, you use your psyche to who knows what?+ The voice of Ko rang in her head, and she backed away to the corner, like she could escape the sound. The corsair was more skilled in telepathy than she.

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…

She doubted that Ko even heard her reply. Or that she even managed to communicate telepathically at all.

And once again, silence fell. Ko was still gone. Maybe he was racing to the prison, just went to look for a whip or another instrument for torture?

Then she started coughing again, and it didn’t stop. She tried to cover her face that was already dripping with blood, but it didn’t stop. Her eyes closed and she slowly slid down to the floor, feeling dizzy, and burned up. Yet the cough did not stop.

She barely heard the door opening and the cursing of the corsair.

He gently lifted her up, and started carrying her away.

“I don’t care if you are fine, I will bring you to the clinic. I already got some medicine that could help in there.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

I think I am a prisoner.

Yba looked around, just to see if anyone else looked nervous in the entry hall. Guards watched over him at the entrance, ignoring all the other various personnel travelling around.

My new ‘employer’ is a madman!

He was tired, and he wished he could get back to the streets instead of being holed up in the “HQ”, as the place was called.

The day had been a bad one. A normal day in Yba’s life here was already rather bad, but that day was even worse. Ifgen had come to meet Thefan, and two bored guards had tried to kill Yba with their new dark lance. Even the cleaning slaves had laughed when he hid under a desk from the rain of darklight.

He had not seen Vorre for the entire day, but the fear of a surprise training round haunted him wherever he went.

This is just too much. I have had it with these people!

Finding some inner courage, Yba stood up with grim determination, and his unfocused mind started to think of an escape plan.

They don’t watch over me as much as they used to. After three weeks, they trust me more. That should help. But they won’t let me out.

He skittered up the stairs into the corridor that led to his bedroom.

“Stop right there!” A clawed hand grabbed him by the shoulder. It was not Vorre. Worse, it was Ifgen.

Rats… “Uh, sorry, I was thinking of going to sleep now. I feel a little tired.”

“I do not care of your napping time. I will get some answers now!” The scourge was dressed in her ghostplate and golden mask.

Yba had little time to think what was happening next, but he did figure out that it would be best not to fight back at the scourge. A door opened, and the clawed hand violently threw him inside. He crashed on the cleaning equipment held in the closet he had been trying to avoid ever since Vorre came up with the idea of putting him in slave-work for training.

Ifgen closed the door behind her, leaving the two in a disturbingly small and dark space. Yba didn’t dare to stand up, and the scourge crouched next to him, blocking the door.

“That foul-smelling Thefan won’t help you now, spy! I will get some answers right now!” The scourge was angry, and Yba started talking about the only thing he could think of.

“He doesn’t smell foul, those are the exotic herbs from realspace, and they are very expensive, and…” How on earth did he imprint that on my mind after I just once asked about it… best to try to forget that.

“Shut up! I will ask you every question only once, and if I don’t get an honest answer, I will kill you and try again!” Honest? Oh no, I think I have to lie now. What was that thing mother taught about how to tell the truth falsely in a convincing manner…? “FIRST QUESTION: WHAT IS YOUR NAME?” Name? Thefan told me not to tell anything to anyone about that…

The loud tone made Yba shy away from the scourge as much as he could, even after backing away as far as to the wall of the closet, his feet still touched hers.

My name… my name… Hey. That’s what she said: ‘Every lie has to be something you could believe yourself, something that is so close to the truth yet so far away.’
“Zon. My name… is Zon.” Yba whispered so silently that Ifgen leaned closer to him. The scourge’s face, still hidden behind the mask, studied Yba’s. He could see her red eyes intently watching him, searching for any trace of deception.

After a long pause, the scourge finally continued, more calmly. “Very well. Next question. Why has Thefan hired you?” She believed me. This is going great!

“I… uh… Well…” Darn it, think before you speak. What do I do, what do I do… “I don’t know.”

Once again there was a pause that stretched longer than a minute. Yba could hear his fast breathing and feel the cold stare of the scourge.

Suddenly, Ifgen stood up, and opened the door. “This is not over yet, Zon.” She slammed the door shut as she went, leaving Yba alone in the closet to a state of befuddlement.

-

He woke up, his head aching with the feeling similar to a night of drinking. He was alone in the closet, partly buried under cheap soap products and brushes.

A dream. What was it? A laboratory… like the one that haemonculus had… and… what was it?

He slowly rose up, staggering a bit. He hit his head on the door, which caused him to fall back and almost fall over again.

I hope no one has been looking for me.

Chapter 8 finished, chapter 9 is started.

Coming up:
- Woryc wants to find his dad so he gets some other people to look for him
- We get to see a movie about scourges
- Unknown skyboard found in a cargo hold, time to call Lost & Found...
- The Marquis...
- SOMETHING BIG IS BEGINNING, AND IT WILL BE SERIOUSLY HUGE, AND LOT OF PEOPLE WILL FIGHT AND STUFF
- Plotting, general confusion to readers, maybe a few revelations.

So, here is what I will do:

I will finish chapter 9, then post both 8 and 9 in a bundle, and start working on 10, after which I will say "end of part one".

Coming up a lot of stuff, cliffhangers and killing! I also have planned a new character list, that will have more info on what all we have learned from them. I will put it in spoilers since they will contain them

But first, the next chapters! They both will be here by the weekend.

I think I will possibly edit chapter 9 a bit more yet, but here comes chapter 8!

Chapter 8
The Beginning

“You are not even listening, Vinfer!”

Woryc had tried to convince the ‘household guard’ to help him and to make him realize that his father was missing. It had been two days since the meeting he had spied.

The big, weighty eldar with short red hair yawned at the young noble. They had known each other since Woryc was born, and the young noble still wondered why did his father keep him, after the time known in their kabal as the ‘famine’. Warriors had starved and even the archon ate less, until the cause of the missing food had been found. Vinfer had looked for refuge out of fried kroot legs when he had gotten so depressed. The keys to the food stores had since then been kept only by the dracons.

“Archon Armahad is a grown boy, he can be out for a while. Oh, oh, oh. A grown boy doesn’t prance around and scream and shout like a maniac.” Vinfer quietly chuckled to himself as he watched the electronic widescreen window that had been installed in the palace’s living room. “Now leave me be already, there is a good film on, and I want to see it!”

Woryc waved his arms in frustration. “That’s the ‘Fall of the Scourge’, Vinfer, you have seen it a hundred times!”

“Oh, oh, the memories, oh. I still remember those beautiful days in those times before all the gloom… the first time the flowers were brought to dear, dear Irona’lith, and the way they were burned, and the laughter of the strong Belri’lith, oh yes.” It was not unknown that the cause of the ‘famine’ had been all fault of the great movie producer Xorrorivan, known well as the ‘Moving Shadow Painter’. Vinfer had taken the drama of the film very seriously.

‘The heavy bones’, as he himself liked to call them, of this middle-aged and often unmoving eldar sank more into the even larger bean bag chair he was sitting (or more like drowning) on, as Vinfer folded his arms and relaxed, yet watching intently at the screen.

“Stop it! I am serious!” Woryc tried yet once more to see if he could find more help for his father. “I got that sybarite to go gather a searching party and they haven’t even come back yet!”

“Then everything is fine, silly little… ungrown, boy. Oh, oh, oh.” Vinfer’s eyes were completely ignoring Woryc, only his speech showing that he could still hear past the screeching of Belri’lith and the gory splatter of talons.

Woryc kept his anger inside him. He still pondered should he tell of what he had seen at the basement of that castle. He rubbed his arms together, still feeling the painful gap from the shard that had pierced the other one.

Vinfer quietly followed the film, and Woryc quietly sat down to the living room’s table. The only thing not quiet was the intolerable sound caused by the electronic widescreen window. Woryc still hated that name given to the device, but he couldn’t really think of any good nickname for it, other than ‘that annoying loud thing that always seems to be showing that damn film Vinfer likes’.

“Oh, oh, look!” Vinfer pointed the screen happily with one of his slightly overgrown fingers and then clapped them together excitedly. “Irona’lith finally cut of the wings of that evil, evil daemon creature after a duel! Ohhohohoh! She was so close to getting killed by that monster! Great of her to survive! Oh, oh.”

Irona’lith was then in the middle of ‘an epic speech’ that somehow inspired the scourges, the heroes, in the film, yet greatly annoyed Woryc, the viewer. “Yes, she does that every time, does it surprise you so much?” He continued with a whisper: “…just like she will die at the ending, and you always weep at that part.” Woryc still shivered at the memory when he first saw Vinfer cry and yell out loud of the horrible tragic and the emptiness of life.

“Oh, oh. I have to eat something now. What do we have for dinner?”

“I don’t know, the chef has been dead for three days!”

“Really? Oh, that is bad. Why has not your father got him resurrected yet?”

Woryc felt like he was about to explode. “Because he is… nevermind. Just watch your stupid film.” He walked away towards the kitchen, hoping to find some scraps to eat. He had given up on the idea of assembling a new search party with Vinfer. He was just going to wait, and think.

The food stores were empty, of course. The only thing there was a lone little book about slave-cooking. Father had bought it a while ago, and even wasted two extra slaves to have the thing autographed by the haemonculus that made it! He walked back to the living room.

“I’m going out to eat. You can cook a slave or whatever, there are instructions on that book.” Woryc calmly made towards the stairs that led to the main hall, which in turn held the front door out of the palace. “See you later.”

He had hoped he could make it, but he flinched when he heard Vinfer’s words. “No, no! I am coming with you! It has been such a long time since I have seen a good restaurant, oh, oh. And your father wouldn’t like you to go without any company!” No matter how little the household guard liked to leave the house, he knew all the good cooks to be found within this section of Commorragh.

Woryc balled his fists and almost punched the person that had risen up from the cushion at the event of a commercial break. “I do not need a babysitter, Vinfer! If I wanted company, I would…”
“Now, now, be a grown boy and behave!” Vinfer clapped the young noble on the shoulder, and they started slowly walking out of the palace. “We will have such splendid time, going outside to eat, chattering, maybe hunting down a slave or two on the streets… oh and I need to go to the barber! My hair is growing too much that I can’t see past them soon!”

___________________________________________________________________________________


Lanlia walked the corridor leading to the cockpit. Her ship was closing in to her goal.

Finally. After all this time. Finally.

The pilot, a corsair with wild spiky hair and a leather jacket, had turned on the autopilot and was quietly browsing through a magazine with questionable pictures.

After that stinking swamp planet, that greenskin fleet, and that sector controlled by Tau, I finally caught up with the Phantom, and raced ahead to reach the Dark City faster. This role has been painful for me, but I can finally get to home and to father.

Her immensely long hair followed her on her footsteps, and she stretched her legs and arms, feeling numb after having spent a long time in her mesh armor. The black and yellow suit gave little protection, she had noticed. She wished she had a shadowfield to cloak on to.

“We are right on course, captain. We will reach the portal by tomorrow morning. The corsair fleet behind us won’t be there until late that evening at the earliest.” The corsair was a mere bodyguard and pilot for her, hired from the starving portside-sector of the Sky Raiders craftworld. Lanlia had forgotten his name, but it didn’t matter, he would die as soon as their ship reached Commorragh.

“Good, good. Make sure the rest of the crew are awake when we get there. And tell Hagiahr to come meet me this night.” He needs to be warned so that he doesn't go out with the rest of the rabble once we land. I need him alive, after all.

“Oh, one thing yet, captain. There is… a skyboard at the cargo hold. Is it yours?”

“Skyboard? Who the damn has brought a skyboard here? Ah, just leave it be. I will see to it later.”

The five other crewmen, including Hagiahr, were already asleep. Lanlia walked over to her cabin and prepared for her secret meeting.

She scratched her hair viciously.

I am coming, father. I am on your side, now. You know I am.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Yes, yes, yes! Good, we are ready? Are we ready? Are we… Yes, I am. My plan, my plan.

The Marquis danced in joy, throwing his legs high above the air, and leaping across the golden hall.
“There are a few… problems, Marquis.” Ainla softly took the Marquis’s hand and stopped him from dancing. My agent has something important to say! I have to listen… to… my agent. My agent. Mine! “Are you listening?” She stared the brightly dressed man, and as soon as he calmed down, she continued. “We have two more kabals on our side, but as they are unreliable, we need to make sure they will die as soon as the fighting is over. Remember? No one can survive?”

“Yes, yes. No one has to survive. They can all die. They will take over from there, they will…” Frencsis flinched, shook his head and then kept talking, at a slower rate. His voice sounded painful. And sad. “…they will… give me… peace. I will… They all will…” Ainla had left from his side, but he kept mumbling to himself, and soon he started to walk in circles.

Soon Ainla came back, followed by an older male, dressed in the armor of the Marquis’s guards. The guard captain strode to the Marquis, and struck him in the head with a large, metal club. Frencsis staggered and then fell over, his cloak slowly drifting to the golden floor.

My guard’s captain… he just… tries to help… when they will take over… and start war… right?

He passed out.

-

But someone else woke up.

Ainla was giving orders to the troops. They were at the secret docks, the largest one of them, and a few hundred of warriors had gathered there. To make the place more crowded, there were around twenty venom-craft, and a dozen of both raiders and ravagers. The Marquis and the man right next to him were near the exit, on a platform above, overlooking at the briefing. Ainla was in the middle of the main platform, with groups of warriors all with different markings, but same base armor, gathered around her.

And this was just one of the docks where they were assembling.

“… squad Seventy One will gather and lead the reinforcements from the Kabal of Bleeding Spear. They will assault the aviaries and kill every scourge hired by the traitor Thefan. Yes, that means all of them. And ensure no one escapes.”

The guard captain was keeping the Marquis steady by discreetly supporting him and keeping him from falling over. The troops were noticeably confused by the state of their employer, but they didn’t mind listening to the ‘Dancer Queen’. Every warrior at the docks had learned that the Marquis was not one they would have wanted to keep a briefing.

“Squad Ninety Five will secure the Bloodmouth portal. The corsairs will be arriving there, and, depending on… certain factors, you will either ensure that they will join the riots on the streets and help them clear the district out of every one not of ours, OR, you will ensure that none of them exits the Bloodmouth alive.” None of the warriors showed any visible reaction. “Squad One Hundred and Four, you will…”

Foolish eldar, always so arrogant and flawed… the plan is nearing completion.

The Marquis started shivering.

The guard’s captain noticed that the person he was half-carrying had apparently awoken, and he quietly signaled with his hand to Ainla, who quickly nodded at him as a response. He then started slowly pushing the brightly clothed man inside the tunnels that led to his manor.

They quietly went through the dim, stone corridor. Neither said a word to each other.

And now my part can begin.

The Marquis slowly slipped his hand to the guard captain’s belt, and drew a sword sheathed there. In a lightning fast emotion, he impaled the other man, who never even had the chance to react.

This town… this ‘Commorragh’… will burn for me. All thanks to those curious idiots of that coven.

He effortlessly dragged the body with him, not bothering to remove the sword or care of the blood that had splattered everywhere.

The Coven of Banished Apocalypse.  I will be sure to hunt them down eventually as well.

The Marquis’s eyes burned red.


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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It is always possible to throw in ideas of what is going on by the way.

Before chapter 9 and 10 comes out, I thought it would be good to tell a little more about the place where most of the events here are happening.
The place I call "Southern High Commorragh".

You see, the southernmost section of the large area of High Commorragh, is, like all others, filled with big skyscrapers for all those greedy and delirious archons. It also has a few wealthy traders, and a few rich ones, as well as the slums, where the people are plagued by gangers because the archons of the slums don't want to waste their precious warriors on to something like that.

The place is divided in two realms, which are both connected to rest of Commorragh through numerous portals.
In terms of area, the larger one is around 70km2, and the other one is around 20km2.
I dont have a map or anything thought up, and I wont be making any (even though mapping out Commorragh does sound like a good idea (at least the core parts of it)).

The larger one, and where more of the events have took place, is Nal’Shur.
In Nal’Shur, we have:
- The Mansion of the Marquis
- Archon Armahad's palace
- The slums, where Mozarz lives
- The "HQ" where Thefan has his lair, below ground, near the Marquis's mansion
- The quarries where who knows what is mined, near the HQ

Also, Nal’Shur contains one large docking area as well as a few wych arenas. (one of them received gracious charity from the Marquis, did you know?)

The other one, considerably smaller, is Tal'varrecht.
There we have:
- The Dread Castle
- The Bloodmouth portal
- A big scourge aviary
- Some slums, too

It contains one docking area, and a few very tall skyscrapers.

Chapter 9
First touches

“Good morning, Rhogogo.” Tunnfe was well rested and prepared for the day. They would reach Commorragh soon.

“Morning, sister.” The other haemonculus looked bored, but answered.

Tunnfe smiled with her partly deformed mouth. They were walking (Tunnfe had her small grav-craft to float with) away from the crew quarters of the corsair ship, and they had just passed the command bridge.

After a while, they got to Ekkart’s laboratory.

“Funny how he gets his own place and we don’t, eh?” Tunnfe was begging to feel rather nervous. Ekkart had only yesterday told her of the new plan, and Rhogogo had no time to be secretly informed. The Phantom had ears everywhere. They would have to go on with their old distraction.
They stood in silence in front of the door, waiting. Rhogogo didn’t seem to mind that they weren’t going to the armoury to get some weapons, like they had planned yesterday. He simply followed his comrade.

Finally, Ekkart arrived. He came from the direction of the clinic. He had been assigned there rather often lately, and he didn’t want to anger the Phantom.

“I am sorry, brother, sister, for having to keep you waiting here. I had to treat a bad cough. There corsairs care little for hygiene, can you imagine? Well, from what I understood, the woman was no corsair but a craftworlder. Oh and that other one, who she was with, he is that one you kept talking of, Tunnfe.” Ekkart rubbed his hands together and went to the laboratory door.

“Ko? I am not sure what to do with him anymore. I think I have to give up on him.”

“That is a shame, he seemed like a bright fellow, even though he felt disgusted by some of my methods. But now, Tunnfe, would you mind leaving me and Rhogogo alone?”

“Of course, brother.” She bowed to the older haemonculus, but before leaving, she leaned and kissed Rhogogo's cheek. She then silently whispered in his ear. “We will be playing a game now. Everything he says is not true. Opposites.”

Rhogogo didn’t respond in any way, he simply followed Ekkart inside the laboratory.

Tunnfe was heading back towards the quarters. She looked back and saw a spider crawling under the laboratory door, following the two she had just left, and disappearing from sight. She then turned back to wait for them.

-

“Well, Rhogogo, as you know, we should start planning on what we will do at Commorragh.” Ekkart’s metal hands reached out and grabbed two chairs. The haemonculi were seated, and then the hands retracted back.

“Yes, that is so.” Rhogogo answered plainly, and they stared each other’s eyes.

“I have understood that you have been, how should I say, sneaking around. This is true, is it not?”

Rhogogo remained silent.

“I have long suspected that we have a turncoat in our coven. And there have been little options on who that could be, since there are only five of us now.”

Rhogogo remained silent.

“You know more than what you say, brother. You know that our sister is the turncoat. He has been relaying orders to our enemies in Commorragh.”

“That… is so, brother.”

Ekkart smiled. His face was just as deformed as Tunnfe’s. The difference was mostly that Ekkart had no hair at all, and his face was already withered by old age. Rhogogo looked no more healthy than them, but he was brawny and muscled, and the youngest. The older haemonculus continued. “I have spied her too. I have found evidence that I have to present to the Phantom immediately. I am glad that you have not been as stupid as you seem.”

Rhogogo flinched, but he remained silent.

“Let us have a drink for our success with the corsairs! They will be worthy allies for us, I am sure!”
Once again, two metal arms sprouted out of Ekkart’s back and they started browsing through the table behind him. The two haemonculi were unmoving, their eyes still locked to each other.

The metal arms presented two rather fancy goblets, both of which had green liquid in them. Rhogogo took the drink that was offered for him.

“The drink will help you gain strength for the journeys ahead, brother!” Ekkart raised his goblet, Rhogogo mirroring him. They both brought the liquid to their lips, but only one of them drank it.
Rhogogo had emptied it with one quick swallow, and then he dropped the goblet. Ekkart smiled, lowering his untouched goblet from his mouth.

They both stood up. Rhogogo was shaking. He fell on his knees.

“It is glassplague, and your body will face True Death now. You will be petrified.” Ekkart placed his hand on Rhogogo’s shoulder, and slowly pressed him down on the floor. “Goodbye. You are not my brother anymore.”

The older haemonculus walked away, still holding the goblet.

-

After a while, Ekkart came out of the laboratory and went straight towards the command bridge. Tunnfe hastily followed him.

“Brother, how did it go?”

“It went very well, sister. I now have to meet the Phantom. I have urgent business.”

They both had noticed the tiny spy-drone that had earlier scuttled inside the laboratory when the two brothers had gone there. Both of them had also noticed how Ekkart had a suspicious vial hidden inside his right arm, woven next to his bones. The skin, that was torn apart slightly, showed parts of the glass, but only an eye of a skilled haemonculus would ever look for hidden weapons inside one’s body.

Ekkart threw the empty goblet away.

________________________________________________________________________________


I hate waking up into chaos…

Mozarz’s morning had started by cleaning up after a mess someone had caused on the apartments hallway after too much drinking, then stopping an invasion of angry beetles that did not back down until a few sprays from insect repellent, and finally getting interrupted in her breakfast after hearing up explosions in the streets.

She took the secret corridor out of the apartment inside and inside the barber shop. It was empty, and she decided it was safe to leave it be.

No sane ganger would try to rob this place anyway… even though I think a lot of them are not sane.

Walking outside, she discovered firstly that someone had built up barricades, causing the intersection of the two streets to be sealed. The barber shop was at one corner of the street, and her apartment just above and next to it. The walls of buildings surrounded them, reaching high above to the dark sky.

The intersection led to four directions, forming an “X” when viewed above. To the north was the Corespur, the center of Commorragh. The southern part of High Commorragh held some of the weaker and less influent kabals than other parts and the center of course, but all the people who lived here had at least slightly better lives than those of the lower areas.

On the other side of the intersection, which too was now completely sealed, the corner had a small club called “Fearsome and Furious”. A lot of folk had gathered around it, and there seemed to be some sort of briefing going on.

Mozarz looked at them, and then she quickly climbed on to a good spot to see over the barricades made of sandbags, junk and pieces of stone. She saw nothing on the other side. Only a deserted street that went down south towards the Sorrow Fell and out to Low Commorragh. The buildings seemed to be empty as well.

It should be crowded at this time. Where did all that noise come from then?

She walked over to the club. The door was closed, but a group of about twenty people were around it, talking and shouting to each other. Some of them were clearly in panic.

Most of them were gangers that lived at this part of the city. Mozarz had seen some of them relatively often. She had even cut the hair of one.

Others were simple residents. A big, muscular eldar with an eye patch glared at everyone, and Mozarz soon recognized him as the owner of the club.

Then there was also Jein. He and Mozarz had once been together, but after a couple of misunderstandings (according to Jein) and cheating (according to Mozarz), they had left each other. She didn’t know that he lived around here. They had met at the more wealthy parts of High Commorragh.

She stopped, her heart skipping a beat after seeing the familiar face. A few people noticed her, and turned around, and soon the whole group was staring at the newcomer.

Mozarz decided to break the silence. “Does anyone here know what’s going on?” She avoided Jein’s eyes that were now locked on to her.

“We are being invaded, that’s what!” the owner of the club roared, smacking his fists together to make his point more clear. “There’s been ravagers’ destroying everything. The Kabals aint doing nothing to protect us!”

“Indeed. There is something very wrong at that. This area is held by the Brightened Star, they wouldn’t allow this to happen.” One of the gangers spoke. Mozarz didn’t know who he was.

“I just got news from a friend who lives west of here. Some warriors had come there and started looting down houses and robbing shops!” An older woman, who Mozarz had often seen around here, spoke. “Said that those warriors had uniforms of no kabal, but some trader or something.”

“The Marquis.” A young, handsome looking man with rather fancy clothes spoke. Even though they lived in High Commorragh, it was easy to tell that this one was a rich noble, ‘better’ than them. “He is invading.”

There was some murmuring and people exchanging looks, until the club-owner spoke. “Who is this marquis?”

Another ganger spoke up. “That guy is frigging rich! I heard he has thousands of warriors to throw around!”

“…and that pretty dancer, eh?” The other ganger spoke, grinning.

“How long has this been going on?” Mozarz asked, not yet really sure on the seriousness of the situation.

“It started at some point of this night. Not sure when… I fell asleep at the club. Had been out drinking too long…” the young noble said, with a shamed look on his face.

“And hey… has anyone seen the owner of that barber shop?” Mozarz pointed behind her.

“She is dead, Mozarz.” Jein spoke. Mozarz had almost forgotten he was here, as well as that he knew her. “She died when the ravagers first came.”

She felt a moment of hollowness inside her. If the barbershop owner could be resurrected, which seemed unlikely if she was shot by darklight which was expensive to be cured from, and good haemonculi were hard to find, it would still mean that they couldn’t see each other for a long while.

She stared at Jein. She felt a tear coming and she turned around to rub her eyes.

That idiot… What am I going to do now? Where will I work? Where will I live?

“LOOK OUT!”

The shout came from one of the gangers, who had walked over to act as a sentry on the barricades. Two ravagers swept over them, coming from the west.

Mozarz had time to run across the street towards the barber shop before the first disintegrator cannons were fired. She jumped and rolled on the floor, bashing onto the door of the shop, where she remained unmoving.

The plasma creaked and she could hear painful shouts and screams. She covered her ears and waited for ten seconds before standing up. She leaned on the door and sighed.

I hate waking up into chaos.

The gangers were organizing well; one of them was shouting at everyone else, another was trying to get his splinter pistol that was stuck at his belt, and last one (only three of the gangers were still standing) was browsing through the corpses.

Jein was alive. He was pressed up against the barricades, afraid to move. His white hair was messy now, and Mozarz immediately thought about giving him a haircut. She then shook his head and tried to concentrate.

“Everyone, listen to me!” the young noble spoke, while he was helping up a rather fat man with unfitting clothing. Mozarz had not noticed that person before, but it appeared like the noble and he knew each other. “We need to get out of here, and I know a place that is safe!”

“No, no! Please, no!” The fat one interrupted the young noble, and stood up with little difficulties. He then started talking more quietly to him, but Mozarz could still hear them. “Your father would not be happy if you brought these lowlifes into his house. They may be from the better parts of the city but they are still rabble! Oh, how unpleasant this is.”

I do not have time for these idiots. I have lost my job, and if these sweeps continue, I will have soon lost my home.

She pondered for a quick while, and then headed north.

If I remember correctly, the mansion of that “Marquis” they talked about earlier was there. But so is the Corespur. If the Supreme Overlord cares a bit of his city, he will do something to this silly rioting. Well, I doubt that, but at least it is safer there.

She walked past the corpse of that old woman she had known, by looks only, if not by name, and climbed over the barricades, not listening to the warnings and shouts from others.

She was at the top and was preparing to slide down to the other side, when someone grabbed her hand.

It was Jein. “I will come with you! It is dangerous for someone to be alone during riots, and this is no ordinary riot!”

Mozarz wrestled free from his grip, and without saying a word, she slid down the junk.

Then she heard the sound of the grav-engines again. A raider-craft boosted over them, coming from the south. Splinter shots were fired and she heard a fierce eldar battle cry on the transport.
The raider slowly halted, and landed about a hundred steps from them. Warriors stormed out, running towards them.

Mozarz froze.

Then something fell from the barricades, and she looked back.

Jein had been hit, and he was badly bleeding. He was sprawled on the ground. She could hear more people climbing up the barricades.

We must all die now.

___________________________________________________________________________________


“WAKE UP! For the love of anything that is holy, wake up!”

What’s going on?

“Didn’t you hear me? Please… wake up.”

Yba’s eyes slowly opened. He couldn’t see anything for a while. It was dark in his room.

“Get up already! We have to get out, now!”

Yba turned his head and watched at the alarmed face ahead of him. It took a while for him to remember this man. Riflor was dressed in his black ghostplate, and he had a nasty looking blade at his hand and a splinter rifle at his back.

“Where is he… where are they…” he said, talking to himself, glancing behind him, out of the room. He then turned back to Yba, who had just barely been able to rise from his bed and stand up on the dusty floor. “Hey, good, now let’s go!”

Yba rubbed his eyes sleepily as he staggered after the trueborn. Something important must be going on…

Riflor looked back once in a while to make sure Yba was following as they went down to the main hall. “Hell is loose at the city, and we won’t be safe here for long. The sentries from the slave quarries outside reported sightings of scouts on the docks above. They will find us soon!”

Yba barely understood what was going on, and he suddenly noticed he had a splinter rifle at his hand.

Then there were two other hands on his shoulders. Vorathio was in front of him, and they were staring each other.

“Well, hello there, Zon.” Yba pondered for a while and then figured that it was his name now. “We have a lot to do today, and I would really like it if you would stay out of my way while I will get it done. Now, let’s get going.” He patted him on the back.

The three walked down a stairway, and soon they were at the front door.

Mercenaries and guards ran around busily, carrying crates and weapons. Thefan or Ifgen were nowhere to be seen.

Two warriors, dressed in black armor much like Riflor’s, walked over to them and they both gave a casual salute. They had shredder-guns with them.

“We are ready to go. Had been waiting for a while already.” the other one of them said.

“Where’s the other two?” Vorre asked as he took a helmet seated on a rack and placed it on his head. It went well with his own dark blue armor.

“Dead of course, they were on patrol above. No need to wait for them.”

“I see. Well, you go on ahead to the craft. We will come right behind you!” Vorathio turned around to Yba as the other two quietly went through the door. “Now, where is your equipment?”

Yba pondered a while, and then lifted up the splinter rifle so that it was at the same level as Vorre’s eyes.

As a response, Vorathio slapped at the rifle, sending it flying on the wall. “Go to the cargo hold and find yourself some armor, now! I will give you two minutes to put it on!”

Before he had time to go change, Yba was approached by Riflor.

“Do not lose your spirit. Thefan will reward you greatly for all you will do. Just endure the command of that man yet.”

____

The four eldar, all clad in black or blue, hopped off the venom and on to the solid bridge.

Yba looked up and saw the top of a skyscraper glinting high above them. The secret docks didn’t give any route to the surface, however, so Yba knew that they would be going through the dark tunnels again. He looked down and saw the tallest buildings of the slave quarries.

I have been below in these caves for so long already! And I’m so tired now…

With Vorathio’s lead, they marched to the tunnels, vision of the city above fading away once more.

“Your job here is simple. Follow me and kill everything I tell you to kill. I will handle the rest”, Vorre exclaimed, giving all three a harsh look. His stare lingered at Yba just a whiff longer than others.

Yba took a few looks at the other two warriors. They were mercenaries, and he probably had seen them before at the HQ, but they always wore those helmets so he didn’t know who they were.

After about five minutes, one of the warriors yawned. Yba was glad he was not the only one tired.

Ten minutes, and the other one started talking about a movie he saw.

Fifteen minutes, and Vorathio told the two to shut up.

Twenty minutes, they passed a corpse of a noble looking young woman. She had been shot with splinter, and from the looks of it, she had died very recently.

Thirty five minutes, and they were attacked.

Two warriors, which Yba, even to his own surprise, recognized as soldiers of the Marquis.

They had just turned around a corner when they saw the door ahead. Vorathio backed away, pushing Yba with him with his hand at the same time. They both stumbled on the warriors behind them, and as they tried to regain balance, they heard the shout of the guards.

Vorathio used a sign language, that he had tried to teach to Yba as well, to order up the other warrior (the same one who had started the conversation about a scourge-film) to fire his shredder at the guards. The warrior quickly obeyed, made a daring roll around the corner, and blasted the monofilament wire.

“There’s something there too!” Yba turned around to see the other warrior pointing the way they came from. It was dark, and he couldn’t see very far, but there was a form coming closer to them.

A khymera, fearsome warp-dog, leaped from the shadows and clawed onto the mercenary as they both fell over. Yba saw himself firing the splinter rifle to help the warrior without remembering to have decided to do so.

The khymera stopped moving, and its corpse was left on top of the warrior. The eldar had lost his helmet when the monster charged, and it had slowly rolled away from them. Yba slowly walked to the pile of the two, and noticed how the jaws of the beast were still locked on the throat of the eldar man. The mercenary had been young and fair. His golden blonde hair rested on the dirty floor, and his eyes were peacefully sealed.

“Grieve for him later, boy. We need to go”, Vorre said before disappearing behind the corner again.

The metal door was opened, its two guards slain before it.
“I present thee, the Marquis’s mansion!” the remaining mercenary exclaimed happily.

“Good, good.” Vorre went on, taking the lead once more.

Forty five minutes, and they were in the dark corridors of the mansion, sneaking around.

I am back here again… this place sure looks different when it’s dark.

Yba felt something he had not felt before, but he immediately realized what it was.

There were daemons about.

Vorathio looked afraid.

Chapter 10
Eruption


“Prepare yourselves, gentlemen. We are going to plunder a dark city.” the Phantom said, calmly placing his sunglasses on.
I love it how I look with these… I am the most handsome person ever. And I will soon rule all the ugly.

“Mor’Igen…” Who dares to call me like that? “We have received a message from our accomplices in Commorragh.” Volerio was a former member of the Crimson Hunters aspect, and he alone dared to speak to the Phantom with his real name.

Volerio was strong and wise, and he had survived long in a corsair’s life, becoming an advisor and a secondary commander.

“I do not care for them anymore.” The Phantom looked at him with a hellish smile. “‘The Marquis’ will be nothing to us. Even he is smart enough to realize that we won’t be helping his conquests anymore, but we don’t need to worry about him. I have a plan how to handle them.”

Cadet La stepped forward. “But Phantom, if we break our alliance with him, we will surely be met with much resistance as soon as we reach the portals!” He was afraid, like all of the people around him.

“I do not need advice from you! Get out of my sight!”

“Mor’Igen. We discussed about this.” Volerio stopped the young cadet from walking away in shame, and patted him on the back. “He is good, and you know it.”

“Very well then. La, go make yourself useful, and bring me a commorrite splinter pistol. I forgot the one I had in my room.”

The cadet made a quick salute and retreated towards the exit. Volerio gave him a mysterious look as he went.

The command bridge was full of activity. The crewmen handled the graceful engines of the well-made ship, and kept up the communication with the other ships.

They had seven large cruisers in total, most of them stolen from the craftworld of Biel-Tan. They also had a few ships looted from rival corsairs and the mighty captured Tau cruiser that was towed by a smaller ship. And, of course, they had the numerous jetfighter planes, all of them itching for a moment of take-off from the docks to battle.

“Well, I suppose I should go and check if everything is in order with the landing craft.” Volerio said after a brief silence and walked down the side stairs out of the bridge. He watched the young corsair cadet above him, carefully and politely pushing his way forward through the crew gathered there.

La had just made it to the bridge-door and stopped as it automatically opened when approached. He almost bumped into to the two haemonculi on the other side.

“Young La, hello there.” Tunnfe smiled, and the cadet nervously smiled back. The older haemonculus went past them, but Tunnfe remained in front of the door, and La did not dare to ask her to move. So they chatted.

The Phantom had returned to the captain’s seat in the middle of the bridge and he was quietly watching the footage from his spider-drone. He had a fancy computer watch, stolen of course, from a rather careless mon-keigh trader, just like the drone.

He grinned as he saw what occurred, and when he noticed Ekkart coming, he quickly turned the computer off and stood up to welcome the haemonculus. “How nice to see you, Ekkart!”
“Greetings, dear Phantom. I am sorry not to have visited you in a while. I have been very busy in the ship.”

“Yes, yes. It is all fine. I am also sorry for not inviting you for dinner in a while. I have missed your company.” This is going great… I knew that this one could be trusted. They have proved themselves trustworthy. I could maybe even spare them after this?

Ekkart stroked his chin, and looked down at the Phantom, who was considerably smaller than him, even with the haemonculus’s slightly crooked back. “I have thought about what I would say now…” His metal arms slowly moved behind him, reaching out. Many eyes were watching them. One of the pilots stood from his chair, and watched in confusion. “But I think that the moment will be enough pleasure for me.”

“What…?” Mor’Igen was befuddled, but his trust to what he knew of the haemonculus in front of him, and what he had seen from the drone’s eyes, never made him think of danger. Until it was too late.

Ekkart stepped forward, and he whispered, ever so quietly: “I will enjoy destroying your fleet, and you. I will enjoy from all the suffering that is to come.” The haemonculus looked pleased at the surprised reaction of the corsair as he sprang into action.

The next moments were a blur in the Phantom’s eyes. He saw how Tunnfe was hugging La, and she whispered something in the cadet’s ear, and then how a needle was shot from inside Ekkart’s arm, and then how he felt his skin on his shoulder, around the needle that was suddenly there, stiffening.

Two corsair guards in teal armor were charging at Tunnfe from behind, when Rhogogo’s axe sent both of their heads flying above the command bridge. The big, muscled haemonculus had shoved his way in to the bridge just a few seconds ago.

Tunnfe slashed with her scissorhand, and a spray of blood colored her from La.

Volerio ran back to the bridge and halfway up the stairs again, and when he saw the bloodshed that had started, he paused to think.

Mor’Igen staggered and tried to hold on to something. He looked at Volerio, and the Phantom’s eyes were full of despair, and fear. He was petrifying. Ekkart was busy slaying the pilots and other crew with the claws of the metal arms, and a moment of silence descended between the two corsairs as they stared each other.

Volerio gave him a salute, and then he turned around and quietly walked away from the screams.

-

Mor’Igen opened his eyes again. He could not move. He was lying on the floor, and he tried to look around at what he could see. It was very quiet.

He saw the command bridge’s window, and his fleet, travelling in space. He pondered. He could not speak, his mouth, just like the rest of his body, had turned into glass-like material. He was not yet completely covered by it. But was there really a chance to survive? No. He was beaten. He wanted to give up.

He felt itching in his right eye. It would not be long until he couldn’t see with it.

He saw a person looming over him. He saw Rhogogo, talking. But then the Phantom realized he could not hear. His ears were glass, too.

The hideous haemonculus grinned. It was amused from the helpless corsair. Mor’Igen felt anger, for his defeat, for the way they had fooled him, and for the fact that he was forced to stare at him.

He tried moving his eyes back to the window. So he could admire the beautiful realspace before his death. He didn’t care what would happen after he died. He only felt sad that he would not be there. Then he decided that he didn’t feel sad.

A rift, from the Warp, opened. Someone was coming to their fleet. He still did not care. He would not be there to see what would happen.

A human-made ship came. It was rather small, and it drifted in the middle of the corsair fleet. Then more ships came. They were crude and bulky, too, but they were ork-made.

The phantom felt a sting of pain and he felt like screaming as his vision from his other eye disappeared. But he remained unmoving, no matter how much he wanted to shout out loud of his pain. Then he tried to calm down again.

His remaining eye itched as well, and he slowly closed it, and tried not to think of anything.

So, this is how it ends for me. I am glad I am not part of this stupid universe anymore. Whoever chose what happened and what is happening, must be such an idiot.

He knew of the glassplague. It would give, like the commorrites, said, True Death, where there would be no return. He knew it was the end of him, and he accepted it.
___________________________________________________________________________________

Yule had just managed to convince the corsair by the clinic that she was fine, and that she could go now. Ko, her guard, was nowhere to be seen, and she decided that it was a good moment to run away.

For a moment, she couldn’t believe it that she was wandering around freely through the ship. She had spent all the time guarded by someone. Either Ko, or by the guard at the clinic, or by that disgusting doctor with the metal arms.

She felt better, so the doctor was a good one, at least.

She had come back to the prison cell by instinct. She didn’t know any other place in this ship. She didn’t even know how large the ship was, and where it was.

This is not a craftworld, I think… But whatever it is, where is it? Docked? Floating in space? In the warp?

She walked past the prison, planning to wander around and explore.

Who am I kidding? I can’t escape from here. I don’t know where to go, and someone will find me soon anyway and bring me back.

She found a small hall by the end of a corridor. It was a living room of a sort. The crew quarters were close by. Still, no one was there, so she took a seat in a comfortable yellow armchair.
The hall was perfectly square, and three walls had doors, but the fourth wall had a large, curved window.

Yule watched at the vastness of space that opened before her. She could see three huge spaceships, and smaller craft that looked like dots compared to them.

She stood up and walked to the window. The ship where she was in was even bigger. But it was still no craftworld.

The ships all had an unorganized feeling, and a lot of them had different designs altogether. One ship was not even eldar made, but a bulky Tau-cruiser.

They are no craftworld eldar. They are just pirates. Like the dark kin.

Then the ship shook from a violent impact, and alarms started to ring.

Fighter squadrons gathered and went for attack as new ships, definitely not eldar ones, charged and fired their crude weapons.

Yule watched at the silent chaos outside. She almost screamed when a hand grabbed her by the shoulder.

“Fireworks have started, it’s time to go, sweetie.” Ko sounded hoarse and afraid, and he had his shuriken catapult with him.

Yule had decided not to speak to him a few weeks past, but she had partly forgotten that after she had got a fever. She had wanted to talk to someone to ease the pain.  “What’s going on?”
“I am not sure. But someone I trust has informed me that it really is time to go. We will be killed by the other corsairs if we stay. Don’t worry”, he added, “the Phantom will never find out.”

“The Phantom…” Yule had never seen him, but she had heard of him all too often. Her commander and autarch, Marchel’Fir, had spoken harshly of the corsair leader before they even had met. And, from what she understood, the first time the two did meet, he had died. “…’other corsairs’? What is going on here?” She suddenly felt hope, that she would be taken away from these pirates.

“Just follow me, okay?” Ko took her hand again and started slowly walking, then running. Yule quickly decided it would be best to go with him. She prayed to dead Isha that she was not mistaken in following this man.

After a brief run, they arrived at a place that was a landing area for fighter-craft, but felt more like a chaotic nightmare right then, to Yule.

There was shouting, swearing, and people pushing others out of their way. She saw pilots entering their planes and taking off with the engines calm humming. She saw men that had apparently gone insane, and who were pointlessly being calmed down by almost as frightened men. She saw a woman, much older than her, laughing at everyone around her merciless gaze. She saw a brawny man choking another, and after the opponent stopped moving, he went through his pockets, and ran. The dead man was abandoned on the floor, ignored by all but by Yule. She wanted to shout and tell everyone to stop.

“They are giving up”, Ko said after noticing the look on Yule’s face. “They don’t work for the Phantom anymore. Now they just try to gather up whatever they can and make sure they get a good seat in a working transport heading to the nearest port.”

They passed the docks, and came to a tunnel. On the walls, there were the entries to escape pods. The lights were red, the alarms still ringing. But otherwise, it was quiet.

Ko locked the door to the landing area behind them as they entered.

An eldar in full armor of light blue watched at them behind the ornate eldar helmet. The aspect armor had bright red stripes in it, and the marks on it were soon recognized by the craftworlder.
Yule had not seen an eldar rune for a time that felt like ages. She was surprised that the first one she would see in a corsair ship was one of a Crimson Hunter.

“I am sorry.” Ko said quietly and he took a deep breath. He was not talking to Yule, but the other one.

“She is not coming with us. You should have just left her.” The voice was of an eldar male, and it reminded Yule from Marchel.

“Please, there must be room for one more? There are four seats, but in an emergency…”

“Yes. But she will not make it very far, and you know it.”

“Death will not be a problem at where we are going.” Yule saw a grim look on Ko’s face as he spoke. “You know that.”

The alarm kept ringing, and after a long moment of silence, the Crimson Hunter spoke. “La is not coming. He wasn’t ready to give up on his orders. He was too much of a burden, anyway. She can take his seat. But you know that the Phantom won’t accept her.”

“But he is much more open-minded, right? He is better than Mor’Igen, you always said that! He is going to need everyone he can get!”

Yule took a step back as the Crimson Hunter approached them. “She will be on your responsibility, then. I will have nothing more to do with this now.” He turned, and walked away. The red lights were dim, but Yule could at least partly see as the door opened on the other side.

Ko took a deep breath once more. “This is where we will say goodbye. At least for now. I have done all I could.”

Yule didn’t understand. She realized that the other one did not wish to help her. But Ko did. “Why are you helping me to escape?” Before he could answer, she added another question. “You ARE helping me to escape, right?”

“Yes… I suppose I am.” He walked to one of the pods attached on the wall, and unlocked its door by entering a code.

The Crimson Hunter was still at the end of the tunnel, waiting.

Ko opened the door. Inside the escape pod, there were three eldar. They gave a surprised look at Yule when they saw her.

“Get in.” Ko looked at her, grimly. His scars on his bald face looked frightening in the red light.

Yule did not move. She stared at the corsair who hid so much, who she knew to be so cruel inside, who had guarded her like a prisoner. The corsair who was so hideous. The corsair with such radical morals. But she also saw a corsair who had saved her life from a fever and stayed with her, and who was right now helping her away from the ship. But she didn’t know where, or why. She wouldn’t go before she knew. “Tell me where we are going. And where are you going, if you are not coming with me? Tell me why…”

Yule was interrupted as the Crimson Hunter shoved her inside the escape pod. The man then spoke to the other corsairs already inside, ignoring the angry glance from Yule. “Close the door on the way, don’t let her die any easier than you, and remember your loyalties. And of course, don’t forget where the portal is. I have a feeling it won’t be active for long.” He grabbed Ko from the shoulder and turned him away.

Then the door was sealed, and Yule was trapped inside a small box with three corsairs she did not know. And suddenly, they were floating in space.

Yule did not look at the faces of others. She tried to calm down by looking through the tiny window above her.

Silent explosions lit up the view as Yule saw a massive ork fleet opening fire on to the corsair ship she had just left.

+Don’t worry, sweetie.+ Ko spoke to her. Yule could still not find enough strength inside her to answer the psychic call. But Ko’s voice was calming. +You are safe for now.+

Then they were in the Webway.
___________________________________________________________________________________

I am coming for you… just wait and you will see.

Lanlia peeked over the corner, and looked back. Hagiahr was nervous. He clearly had not imagined Commorragh like it actually was. The streets were deserted, apart from the two.

“Come now, don’t be shy. If you stay around too long the mandrakes will come and eat you!” Lanlia teased him.

“I… I think there are some people following us. We should… uh, you know… kill them? What say if we hide behind the corner and wait for them?”

Hagiahr was tall, and his brown hair was in better shape than any other corsair Lanlia had seen. He was young and athletic, but, as she was about to realize, he was not one used to a place like the Dark City.

The Bloodmouth portal had been drenched with dying soldiers when they finally came from the ship docked there. All the other crew were dead of course, that’s why Lanlia had sent them ahead. But the warriors of the Marquis were dead too. There had been dozens of them, so they clearly had been killed in a battle afterwards. But whoever did the butchering was not there anymore.

Time is running out. The rift is getting bigger. Subject 3 is stronger than ever. It has been completely possessed now. It must be so…

Lanlia kept walking, Hagiahr trying to keep up with her pace.

“You know, I always thought there are no daemons here”, he said.

“What are you talking about? There are no daemons here”, Lanlia replied, knowing fully well that it should be so. But it is not so. She knew there was a daemon released within the city, and more would follow. Then she noticed the presence.

Subject 3 is not the only one… subject 1 has been fully possessed as well? Can it be? Father said that…

Hagiahr suddenly shouted a warning as ground rumbled ahead of them, and a large figure rose up from the very earth. It was twice as tall as they were. Lanlia stared at it for a while, ready to spring into action as soon as it would.

“It is a Talos engine. It will cause you pain if you get too close. But don’t worry, it has nothing but little hooks on it”, she said, smiling.

The construct hovered closer, and Lanlia approached as well to greet it. Hagiahr tried to hide behind her, but it turned out that even her hair was not enough to cover him.

“Greetings. I believe I know you. You will take me to father?” Lanlia said calmly. It had not attacked, it had something else to do.

Suddenly two holes opened on the carapace of the talos, and a silent click was heard as two splinter rounds flew from them.

But they were well aimed, and not at them. Lanlia stood perfectly still, partly from surprise and belief of being killed, and partly because Hagiahr was clutching her from her hair.

The splinter flew past, and they caught a figure behind them. Without a sound, it staggered and then stumbled on to the ground.

Lanlia stared at the faraway corpse, trying to identify it. Then she decided to leave it be and she greeted the talos again. “Are you taking me to my father?”

It replied by turning around and hovering away.

Lanlia spotted a tiny engraving on the back of the construct.

‘Vazek’…

Lanlia followed the Talos, after pushing Hagiahr away from her hair.

They circled the crater caused by the arrival of the construct. Lanlia studied it carefully as they went.

It was teleported… how?

-

The trio walked the empty streets. Corpses were found here and there, a few buildings had been ruined. Once in a while a skimmer flew nearby, but they managed to avoid any conflict.

When they saw a floating ziggurat machine appearing on to the skies above, Lanlia knew what it meant.

The ziggurat projected the image of the Supreme Overlord, Asdrubael Vect, as a huge figure where whole Tal'varrecht would see it.

“I am very well acknowledged that there is something to be done here.” The booming voice of the mighty, immortal eldar lord made sure that everyone would hear the speech. “Due to the daemonic invasion, I will be severing all connections to two realms, keeping only one portal in each so that this misfortune will not be spread to the rest of the city.

“All Kabals with land in this area will now be forced to either abandon it, or to try whatever they can to keep it. The rest of the city will not be bothered with the troubles that will go on here, and the portals will require a special permission to be used. Any Archon who will come to the portals will be taken outside, if they wish it. They can use whatever power they have in the other sections of the city to establish themselves anywhere else, should they choose so.

“The docks will be closed, and any ships there are still in the property of their rightful owners, if they manage to keep them.

“The only active portal in the realm of Nal’Shur will be contained within the arena of Vicious Roma, and guarded in both sides. Trespassing the area can be taken as an act of assault, and if the commander of the guards will give no special permit, lethal actions may be taken against the intruder.

“The only active portal in the realm of Tal'varrecht will be contained inside the Dread Castle, and guarded in both sides. Trespassing the area can be taken as an act of assault, and if the commander of the guards will give no special permit, lethal actions may be taken against the intruder.

“Any attempt to activate other portals, or to use any other means to leave the realm, will be punishable by extreme measures of torment.

“That is all, citizens.”

Lanlia gradually realized that she was unable to reach her target now. Not without the portals.

This… how could this happen… How did Vect react so quickly?

Hagiahr was staring at the ziggurat with his jaws dropped. The image of Vect had faded, and the machine was left floating, abandoned to the now closed realm.

Father… if the portals are closed… I can’t reach you now. I’m sorry.
___________________________________________________________________________________


Yba followed the other two as they entered the living room. It was dark, but they saw it was richly decorated, and the golden colors shined dimly. There were many stairways, both up and down, and lots of doors.

“This is the private wing of the mansion… there should be guards here.” Vorathio was afraid, and he looked like he could turn around any second now and go back for the tunnels.

The other mercenary accompanying them took a seat on a comfortable chair and placed his shredder to the table next to it. “This place looks nice. Can’t we stay for a while?”

“No. The Marquis employs an incubi shrine. They will butcher everyone who sits on his chair without permission.” Vorre grinned, trying to hide his fear. Yba smiled nervously with him.

The mercenary took off his helmet and revealed his bruised face. His black hair had a small bald spot, which reminded Yba of his former employer. “I don’t think we have been properly introduced. I am Zarhra of the family of Razing”, he said, waving his hand in greeting to the other two.

“Of course you are, you fool. You think that an agent of my standing wouldn’t know all the others?” As he took off his helmet, Vorathio had visibly regained a little of his arrogance, but his voice still had a nervous undertone, and he kept looking around to ensure they were alone.

Zarhra ignored him and looked at the brown-haired youngster, who tried to desperately prolong the silence before he was forced to speak. “Uh, hi… I am… Zon”, Yba replied to his gaze.

“Shall I call you just Zon, like a slave, or do you have another name?” Zarhra said, raising his eyebrows.

“Uh…” Yba thought and thought. He knew Zon had another name, he was a trueborn after all, which was rare for someone like him.

Zarhra patiently waited for an answer, and Vorathio too had become intrigued.

Then the memory finally struck him. Yba had had an unpleasant encounter with Zon’s mother, who had insisted that Yba was a ‘bad influence’ on her son and that they ‘should stop playing with each other’.

“Excofin. Zon Excofin.”
To Yba’s surprise, Zarhra laughed. “Marvelous, indeed. Don’t worry, it is all right. I won’t judge you for anything.” He chuckled a bit more, and then he stood up and took his shredder again.

Vorre gave a nervous smile, which Yba failed to translate into any message.

“Now, we probably should keep going. Where is the Marquis again, Vorathio?”

Vorre didn’t have time to answer as Zarhra was cut down by an incubus behind him.

Yba backed away without a word as he saw another one coming after him.

The armored brutes had sneaked from the stairways, not even making a sound with their plated boots.

Vorathio fired two rounds from a splinter rifle, and the incubus next to Zarhra’s body dropped his klaive and stumbled over a chair.

Yba watched with great respect as Vorre rushed and lodged the splinter rifle’s bayonet through the fallen incubus's ornamented helmet.

The other incubus left Yba alone, not even bothering to quickly try to kill him with his klaive, and went for Vorre. He jumped over the desk and swinged his weapon, which was only nimbly dodged as his opponent rolled under the desk, grabbing the shredder at the process.

The incubus had time to turn around before the monofilament wire coursed through him, and he fell on to the floor.

Yba stared at both of the corpses, and through a sudden impulse, he raised his rifle and shot a few times at both of them.

Vorathio was huffing, and he didn’t even bother to say anything for his only remaining team member.

After a while, still without saying a word to each other, they both quietly went through one door, on Vorathio’s lead.

Yba remembered the place dimly. They were approaching the large golden hall.

“I was here once before. We placed a sensor to monitor all who went through here. Thefan was right, for once… that guy was tainted by chaos.” Vorathio muttered, partly to himself.

“Tainted?”

“We will be extremely quiet from now on, Zon Excofin”, Vorre said, reloading his shredder.

They were both very afraid. The daemons were close.
___________________________________________________________________________________

Two Crimson Hunter-fliers landed in a strict formation on to the dirt of the park. Two figures came out of them, and they quietly hopped down in the silence of the closed realm.

“We made it. I will have to thank Vect somehow for this.”

“If things went well, they made it too.”

“But if they did make it, they are not here. Tal’varrecht is sealed from us as well.”

“The Phantom will find a way.”

“I hope so. Now for the more important matters… we need to ensure Commorragh is not burned to the dusts of the Warp by the time he arrives, Kozerog.”

“I am ready”, the corsair said, taking off his helmet and revealing the scarred, bald head beneath. “No one will stand in our way.”
___________________________________________________________________________________

The decision of severing ties with these two realms caused confusion and shock in the courts of Commorragh. To find out that daemons had come so unnoticed, people began to question how well they could handle a sudden invasion of them.

Asdrubael Vect held a brief meeting and concluded that the realms will be left abandoned, but the portals, both in the realms and leading to the realms, will be closely guarded.

The scale of the daemon invasion was unknown to all, but no one expected many survivors to manage to escape. Any archon or someone of a high-ranking noble status would be welcomed, but then left on their own.


The residents of the abandoned realms did their best to survive. Camps were formed, where even gangers and kabalites alike tried to fight against sudden threats.

The first daemons to come were winged creatures, which plagued every person who still dared to try controlling the skies. Then came the daemonettes, who stalked the streets, and banded together on any lone wanderer.

But there was a daemon more mysterious than anything. None of the survivors quite knew what it could be. The monster took the form of another Eldar, and many said that they could possess anyone they want. And some said there were more than one.

Most rumors agree that the cause for all this is the Marquis, in one way or another. They say that his madness and his secret pacts with daemons had caused the rift that brought chaos in their homes. Some say that he was possessed by the mysterious daemon, but many argued against that. How could he be possessed just like that in Commorragh? And why he?


And so, through many events, the ‘heroes’ have been killed or imprisoned or trapped within this hell.

But what happened with the corsairs of the Phantom Doom? Who attacked them, and why? Who is ‘the Phantom’, if not Mor’Igen? How many Phantoms are there?
What caused the Marquis’s insanity?
What is the Coven of Banished Apocalypse up to? What is their part in all this?
Has the Dark City lost their control over two realms forever?

Time will tell…
The Dooms Hidden, End of Part One




--------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------

I strongly suggest reading the prologue again, after this.
But anyway, here it is, part one. Nothing has been concluded yet, and things look quite messed up for all the main characters... I am waiting for any comments you may have.
Part 2 will continue on this, but I have to map out the plot a bit before I even start writing.
I will put up a character list soon, one that describes rather lengthily about them, and it will contain maybe bits of new info.

And dont forget to tell who your favourite character is!

Chapter 11 is made, as well as an interlude before it.
I will start posting sometime soon. Character list coming as well, to make everything less confusing for all!

I'm going to go out on a limb here, but I think that the story reads a bit like a high-paced movie thriller. I can almost hear a throbbing techno beat score in the background. Is that how you envisoned it too, or am I just spouting nonsense?  

Oh, and my favourite character is Mor'lgen, the Phantom, just because I really like him as an image; unashamedly trashy.

Im not sure on the techno beat, but high-paced movie thriller is about right.

Anyway. Here is the interlude. I will try fitting the character list in this post later, if it fits.
More people are about to die, and the mystery seems even more confusing...

INTERLUDE


The room was long, like a tunnel. The roof was not, however. The tall would have much trouble there, bumping their heads if they weren’t careful.

The only door in the room at the other end was sealed and locked, with more than just a few locks.
An unpleasant odor filled the air. The quick would notice it came from the herbs hanging from the walls. The only way not to injure one’s head or to get reeking hands would mean sitting or standing with knees slightly bent on the long, red carpet at the middle.

There was an alcove at the other end. One would have to carefully walk all the way from the other end through the red carpet to reach it. The alcove had a small table and two benches on both sides. The shelf on the wall next to them was filled with bones.

The room was empty. Almost empty.
The only person in the room felt empty.

The fingers drummed the table as the head stared back at a skull in front of it. The body was seated on to the bench.

“So here we are again. For the last time.”

The sudden voice didn’t make any of the body flinch. It was expected by it. The mouth responded to the new person in the room.
“We have all failed at this. Neither of us won.”

“I know. It knows. They knew all the time.”

“It controlled us. We had no idea that…”

“You know the history. Out of the four, it is the clever one. Yet we didn’t care of that at all when we found out. We thought it was a pet. The Coven thought so too.”

“You could have stopped it! YOU COULD HAVE STOPPED ALL OF IT!” The legs reacted quickly as the brain commanded them to stand up.

“There is little to do anymore. Just… them. If they can do something. Or, maybe if your…”

“My agents are dead! You have killed them all! Even Vorathio! ALL OF THEM!”

“I didn’t kill him. I didn’t kill most of them. The Coven just couldn’t stop all the corsairs. They didn’t manipulate neither of the Phantoms well enough.”

“All of my work is ruined. All of it, you understand?” The body was seated again, calming down.

“I will stop the daemon. I promise you that, I will try. But I cannot let you live. It is watching me.”

“You understand then… I just have one request before I die.”

“What is it, Thefan?”

“My daughter… she spied the corsairs, the Coven. I went through a lot to get her into the boots of that dead woman. She is here, somewhere.”

“I last saw her at the party. She helped you kill Mazus. I never saw her after that. I thought she was devoured when you tried to capture the angry one.”

“That… was the plan. To make her disappear. But you must find her, please. She is… all that is left of this miserable family.”

“I will… yes, I will find her. And I will kill her.”

“No…” the body tried to resist, to fight, but the throat was cut open, and the heart was pierced, at the same moment.

Ainla didn’t show any emotion as she left Thefan’s corpse bleeding on to the alcove. She walked away, towards the entry in the sidewall, hidden behind herbs.

Thefan’s eyes watched her leave.

The whole body was unmoving, left to rot on to the bench. But the eyes, they wept.

___________________________________________________________________________________





CHARACTER LIST (in order of appearance, named people only, as well as those who had not been named but were confirmed as certain people later on (some people not here may have been named but are not 'confirmed' yet))

Yba
A young tubeborn that had a relatively easy life in the many caring arms of his employers. His demands were easy for them to accept, and Yba, in turn, even managed to survive the terms set by them.
He was a thief available for part-time contracts, and he usually found his new employers after a previous one had recommended him.
He was not the best at anything, but it was not really his skills that made him valuable, but his partner.

Later on, after betraying his partner to keep all of the rewards for himself, he found his employer murdered, by his new employer.
After spending over a month being unwillingly trained, he was sent on a mission, that apparently became his last.

Zon (Excofin)
Partner of Yba, Zon is a lucky man. He was born true, in rather weird circumstances, but true nevertheless. He was raised by his mother to be cunning and careful, and to never trust anyone but himself.
Deep down, Zon was a fool. He trusted the man who stole things with him. In the end, it caused Zon's death, for the young, filthy and lazy Yba turned out to be rather talented in deception.

"The Marquis" Frencsis Zarkonin
A newly rich noble. Little is known of his past, since most people concentrate on that he has become rich and he likes to host parties.
He has many visible mental problems, and only very few know what his insanity truly is.

He has organized, or at least he is believed to have organized, a massive raid around his home-realm. His warriors have murdered countless people, and looted countless houses.

Soon after the raid started, he killed his captain of guards, who had kept the Marquis in a leash. Now, his insanity is even more revealed as he lives on at his fortified manor in the middle of the daemon-infested land.

"Lanlia", daughter of Thefan
The real Lanlia was a corsair lieutenant in the service of the Phantom.
The new Lanlia is, or used to be, a familiar face for most commorrite nobles, since she attended many parties and loves to travel. Her name is not known.

After disappearing for some time, she stepped in the shoes of someone thought to be dead. Thanks to her connections with a coven, as well as with make-up and wigs, she has gained all the allies who the real Lanlia had, using them on her secret mission.

Now she is coming back to Commorragh, to her father. But there appears to be some obstacles.

Thefan
A noble, living underneath in a large cavern system.
He runs a profitable slave-business, with all the usual shady methods and dealing. Little else is known of him.
He has a trusted ring of friends, as well as retainers who he hires. He has plenty of goals, one of them appearing to be getting rid of the Marquis.

After the raid had been started, his base of operations was found, and all of his employees either killed or scattered.
He retreated to a safe location, where he was killed by Ainla. His body was never found.

Ainla "the Dancer Queen"
A professional dancer, and a renowned character.
She is employed by the Marquis, and not only for dancing. She was good friends with the captain of the guards, and a manipulator of Frencsis.
She appears to have a connection to Thefan, as well as his daughter.

She has conspired against many, and few know if what she does is from the command of someone, or from her own decision.

After her employer started the raid, she has been kept tightly under surveillance.
Some think it was a wonder that she was not killed with the guard captain.

Autarch Marchel'Fir
Completely unknown figure in Commorragh, and most other places as well.
He was on a diplomatic mission to a Tau planet, hoping to settle the differences and misunderstanding that had come from the actions of a corsair-group.

He was slain by the Haemonculus Ekkart. Not even his soulstone was allowed to go in peace.

"Phantom" Mor'Igen
The leader of the Phantom Doom, a group of piratical corsairs.
He is known from his cruelty. He also has many contacts to the Dark City.
His relation to Lanlia is unknown.

He had ambitious plans of revealing the schemes of the Coven of Banished Apocalypse, stealing their research, and finally, conquering Commorragh itself.

His daring plans came to an end once he was betrayed by two different parties at the same moment.
His fleet is broken, and all smart corsairs are far away already, having took all the ships they could under some new captain.

Ekkart
The oldest of the Coven of Banished Apocalypse-trio.
He is clever and wise, but his goals are unclear.
He trusts his siblings as much as he trusts himself.

Coerill
A young, innocent warrior who fell into the clutches of Thefan.
He was taken prisoner on a mission, and later executed.
By who, it is not known.

Vorathio Unz’navick
A bitter old trueborn warrior in service of Thefan.
He despises everyone but himself, but works dutifully, knowing who is superior.
His family is old and long forgotten.

He went on with Yba to a mission where he didn't come back.

Woryc Armahad
A little noble who thinks a lot of himself. His father is an archon, of one of the richest, but militarily smallest, Kabals. He is rich, but he is halfway in learning that money is not everything.
He spends most of his time at parties, trying to find company.
He is easily annoyed by the simple things of life, but when things got complicated, he got only more annoyed.

He had known how much his father hated the Marquis, but he found it hard to believe when he saw him at a secret meeting where multiple archons gathered to think of a way to kill him.
The meeting was apparently a trap, but he survived. He doesn't think that his father did.

But he didn't give up on finding him, and tried the best he could, which wasn't that much.
Then he got caught up in the raid.

Archon Armahad
The head of the kabal of Flowing Art, he is rich, but he always struggled more than anyone knew on trying to keep it that way. First name unknown.
The fear of thieves was always there, and sometimes he became very paranoid about it.

He disappeared at a secret meeting, held by Ainla.

Tunnfe
The middle one of the Coven of Banished Apocalypse-trio.
She is a haemonculus, a flesh-carver, and she likes her job. The Banished Apocalypse, however, was something more. She knows a lot, knowing both Thefan and the Phantom.

Scheming with her brothers, the trio slayed the Phantom and hijacked one of his ships. Where are they heading?

Rhogogo
The youngest, and the biggest, of the Coven of Banished Apocalypse-trio.
He is strong and deadly with his axe, and many corsairs he has been with find him much more threatening than the other haemonculi.

He may be the slowest of the trio, for he is often used as a tool by his older siblings.

Kozerog ("Ko")
A senior corsair of the Phantom, his scars speak for him. He is quick to act, and many often make the mistake of trusting him.
He was assigned on guard-duty, where he met a prisoner who started to make him wonder if he had made wrong decisions in life. His feelings are dim, however.

He betrayed the Phantom, leading an escape along with Volerio.
These renegade-corsairs were heading to Commorragh, but not on the command of Mor'Igen.

"La"
A young, shy corsair in the service of the Phantom.

He met his death when the haemonculi-trio began their assault in the fleet's main ship's command bridge.

Vazek
A withdrawn haemonculus, who worked for Thefan until his new creation was done.
The construct he made is unknown, as are most of its creators history.

Yulethan’ia Bezeania
From the craftworld of Zanis-Kiam.
She never really wanted to be a guardian, so she was sent only on to tasks that weren't dangerous. Yet she ended up getting trapped in a Tau-camp, trying to find cover from the fight between corsairs and the fishmen. She was helped by a gallant member of the Scorpion aspect, who soon perished at their attempted escape.

She was taken prisoner, where her long days were spent mostly in silence.
She thought the pirates, just like she thought anyone not from craftworlds, as horrible creatures. The man guarding him, Ko, contributed a lot to this view, but yet she felt something.

Perhaps the corsair did, too, for when the Phantom Mor'Igen was killed, and everything was in chaos, Kozerog helped her escape.

She does not know where she is going, however, and with whom.

Ifgen’Lassnar
The leader of a small group of scourges.
She was employed by Thefan, but her loyalties are right now very unclear.

Riflor Uzerafick
Probably the nicest person to be found in Commorragh, he is kind and caring when he thinks that someone deserves it.
He is trueborn, of a forgotten family, like Vorathio.

He was an officer for Thefan and one of his most trusted agents, but now he has been driven away. He knows that the streets of the Dark City will not be kind.

Archon Hoolon Jree
Leader of the Kabal of Brightened Star. He is lazy and inefficient, and rarely gets along with anyone. One of the few friends Hoolon has is the Kabal of Flowing Art.
Most kabals make fun of his behind his back.

He is known to have been at the secret meeting held by Ainla. What happened to him there, is not known.

Archon Teifor
Of the Kabal of Bleeding Spear.
Known to be a patient hunter, who frequently hones his skills in realspace raids.
They say however that his age is starting to weigh him down. He has started to spend more and more time sleeping and watching exotic dancers who he pays handsomely.

Just like Jree and Armahad, he was at the meeting, but what happened to him, is not known.

Mozarz
A barber, living in a home that could use a lot of repairs. She is yet lucky enough to be a part of High Commorragh, even though she doesn't feel lucky. She hates her life, and despises her customers.

With her employer dead at the raid, she has decided to go see the Supreme Overlord and tell him what she thinks of him.
Will she get there alive, however, is another question.

Vinfer
A former dracon, who became something more like a house guard. Yet he does not really guard anything, since he spends most of his time watching numerous movies from the wide screen of his employer, Archon Armahad.

He has known Woryc since the ex-dracon was young and the little noble was a baby. Yet he feels reluctant to get up from his cushion to go look for the missing archon.
But when he decided to get food involved, he went with pleasure. That was when the raid struck.

He and Woryc struggle together in the sub-realm of daemons.

Jein
A former lover of Mozarz. They broke up when Jein, a free-willed rascal from the Kabal of Black Heart, decided that he did not want someone like Mozarz.
His feelings yet raced back and forth, until he ended up that he should act chivalrously. Then it was a little too late.

He has been caught up in the raid, as well as many others.

Zarhra Razing
One of the mercenaries working for Thefan. Believed to be trueborn, but that is unclear.

He was killed by an incubus guard while on a mission with Yba and Vorathio.

Volerio
An old, cunning man with craftworld origins. He was an exarch of the Crimson Hunter aspect, but something went very wrong at some point, for he became a notorious pirate, and soon a trusted, yet feared, adviser for the Phantom.

His loyalties were not for Mor'Igen, however. There is another Phantom he is willing to serve.
He was mostly in charge of the chaos that erupted in the corsair fleet, but he was unaware of the plans of the haemonculi-trio.

Hagiahr
A renegade corsair, who used to be a cadet for the Phantom. But he fell for the first beautiful lady he saw, and declared his loyalty to her. This woman was Lanlia. Both of them.
His eyes have never noticed the difference, and he is willing to help the love of his life (or so he thinks) to help her to find her father. He of course has no idea who this father is.

(Be sure to check the character list, in the previous post above ^^^^)
Part 2 is here, or the first chapter of it anyway


Chapter 11
Survivors

The Misery’s Lounge had been a large plaza, full of activity day and night, but after the daemons had taken over Nal’Shur, it was a refuge for all who managed to find their way there.

Eladrith, no matter their background, tried their best on working together to defend the camp and man the walls. More and more people arrived as the streets came more dangerous. They had found out that the daemons weren’t very numerous, at least not yet. The beings of chaos were clever enough to band together as well, and each night, sentries reported larger numbers of them prowling the streets.

The camp consisted of a large outer ring of walls. The refuges had chosen well their place to stay, for the plaza had always had strong defenses and weapon platforms to quickly quell all riots too large. After the walls, towards the core of the Misery’s Lounge, was the ‘park’. Rotten trees and twigs scattered on the mud, this ground was left unused by all.

Only then came the campsite itself. The tents, more differing in design than their residents themselves, numbered a hundred already, and they were growing all the time. Some of the unluckiest ones got to sleep at the ditches, while only a select few had tents of their own. The stones of the plaza weren’t kind to campers, but after the good spots of dirt had been taken over, the bravest made their tents to the solid ground.

At the very center was the elegant and triumphant archway, 30 metres high. It was a tourist attractor, never really serving any other purpose. The plaza had no other walls than the outer ring, but the construct made a pretty sight for those who enjoyed of dark architecture. Four statues, 10 metres high each, surrounded the arch.

The Merchant was slightly taller than all others, the dark blue stone making his looks cruel and cunning.

The Slave was almost as tall. The beaten up eldar, with artistic whip marks sculpted on to his back, was made in tribute to the early days of Vect. No one really remembers why.

The Thief was in the worst shape of all four. Both of his arms had fallen off long time ago, and the head had crumbled away from darklight beams.

The last one had no name, but most simply called it “Unfinished”. It was a boulder more like, with a few weird forms here and there. They say that the crafter had no time to complete it, but it would have been a beauty.

A little child sat on the top of the arch, looking down at the statues and people below.
She waved her legs, but keeping her arms tightly held on the stone. She didn’t fear heights, but she didn’t want to fall.

She could see the black roof of the webway, and the mist that was coming.
She looked below. The plaza was a wide and open area, littered with tents. The walls rose out at its borders.

She looked ahead. Behind the walls, on the other side, she could see buildings, taller than the archway, taller than the walls. Then she could see a few of the skyscrapers that looked taller than the sky itself.

Shouts were heard below at the camp. A slave had tried to run away from two kabalite warriors. The warriors had both different markings, and the girl knew that they both were members of destroyed kabals. They co-operated, however, in beating the slave who had just made it under the arch when they caught him.

“Bad things happen to mon-keigh when they escape the eldar”, the child said. “Bad things happen to eldar when they try to escape She-Who-Thirsts.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

The largest tent had been put up on the stone, close to the center and the arch.

A Sybarite, named Ijori, had risen up to a rather high status as a leader of the refuges of Misery’s Lounge. He had personally led the organizing of defense, and the building of the camp. He had personally spoken to almost everyone around, commanding some to patrols, some to tent-building and other duties.

He had then assembled a council. He was kept at high value, but he had lost some influence as soon as some more famous names appeared.

He remembered Archon Hoolon Jree, who had scrambled up the walls one night, and scared the guards. The old man had joined the council, as the only archon in the camp should, mumbling about ‘daemons, stupid marquis, too pretty dancer and double-crossing Teifor and a backstabbing neighbor’.

The third member was a new name for Ijori, but Riflor Uzerafick had proven himself a capable fighter and leader. He was from a family unknown to all others as well, but being trueborn was enough to convince anyone. He felt like he could be trusted, at least more than most.

Then there was Belindy. She was neither trueborn nor anything noble, but from a gang of the streets. Ijori had planned on banishing her before he noticed her knowledge of the twists and turns around the camp, as well as a map of hidden stashes of weapons, one of them actually buried inside the plaza. She also knew disturbingly lot about daemons, as well as traps to use against them.

The fifth member was unusual as well. Until then, the camp had contained mostly average citizens, former members of kabals, gangers, Hoolon as the only archon, and a few odds and ends, but the first haeomonculus to arrive was Opru the ‘Grievous’. He brought with him a retinue of wrack-servants, and as soon as he arrived to the plaza, he gathered campers around the arch, and proclaimed of his intention of getting rid of daemons and making Nal’Shur free for the people again. The council heard this, and he was quickly brought in, especially after they saw his skills in combat when someone dared to laugh at his proclamation. None of the other council members knew of him, but there were lots of rumors going around the camp about famous deeds done by this surgeon. No one really knows who started these rumors.

The newest member of their council came along with a small group of survivors who fought their way through a band of slaaneshi daemons. He was a young noble, who also claimed to know Archon Hoolon, even though the old man never admitted to remember him. The young noble was Woryc, son of Archon Armahad. The kabal was rich, but not known for any combat prowess or strong fighters, but the council decided to bring the young man in once he told them about the numerous things he had heard and seen. Archon Hoolon continued to remain silent about his own secrets, though, even after Woryc claimed to have seen him in a secret meeting.

“I said, daily report, mister Ijori.” A voice echoed, like it was coming from inside a mask. And it was.

The former sybarite quickly remembered what he was doing and he read the data sheet he was holding. “The Misery’s Lounge contains nine hundred and forty five lives, plus the slaves. Three lives were lost yesterday to a sneaky, flying daemon. We brought in a new group of four survivors, who had come from the slums south of here.”

“There, any questions?” Opru’s face was hidden behind something that resembled a gasmask. His bony arms had long, red gloves on them, and his black robe flowed around the chair he was sitting on.

I hate it when he takes the lead like that… I am stuck reading reports now!
Ijori quietly placed the datasheet on to the council’s desk.

“I have a suggestion for these reports, if the council approves.” Riflor spoke in a quiet voice, forcefully calm. His looks had once been well maintained, but the daemons had taken their toll of him. “I led the patrols yesterday, and we found out yet one of the renegade skimmers, bearing the marks of the Marquis. I informed of it to you, Belindy, yet it was not added to the report. It should be.”

“I’m not going to add all the trash you come up with, Riffy. If you want to write the reports, do it, but don’t complain to me.” Belindy said, yawning. She had spent the last hours running and training, as she always did. Her reasons for it were, according to her own words, ‘to become more tolerable during these stupid morning briefs’. Her golden blonde hair was messy as well, even though she claimed that she brushed it every day.

“So, let’s move on to the votes, shall we?” Opru waved his arm in the direction of the two. “I propose, once again, that…”

“… we will remove Belindy from the council, yes. Let us vote for that immediately instead of going through the speeches again.” Ijori had lost his faith into democratic system in the council after they had begun to daily vote for the removal of other members, which never got anywhere, since most others disapproved.

“All in favor?”

Two hands rose, the red glove of Opru as well as the bare arm of Belindy’s. She voted against herself simply for the fun of it, and since she knew that no one else would vote.

“Two out of five, declined.” Ijori said, resting his head on his other arm lazily on the desk. “Are there any other…”

“I propose we remove Opru from the council!” Belindy smiled, enjoying from the agony of all others as she postponed the meeting.

“All in favor…?”

Belindy raised her hand. No one else.

This was much of a surprise, and everyone turned to Hoolon, who had fallen asleep on his chair, slowly snoring.

Woryc poked the old man on one of the wrinkles of his face, and the archon swiftly opened his eyes and stood straight. He muttered, partly to himself. “Uh… which one we voting?”

“Of removing Opru.”

“Oh right, okay.” The ex-archon lazily raised his hand.

“Two out of five, declined.” Ijori said, once more.

Opru stood up. “Now we have that out of the way… Meeting is adjourned, everyone is dismissed!”

Ijori was left alone in the tent, and he wondered, how his life had suddenly turned like this.

I thought I would be some sort of hero, freedom fighter… ‘the Slayer of Daemons’, yeah… What happened? Now I’m just stuck here, on a boring job of maintaining this camp.

Just an interim note that I'm catching up now and I am on Part 9, soon I'll be up to Section Two and fully caught up! I am enjoying the action and the different personalities, the differences between the nobility and the haemonculi on one hand, and the ordinary citizens on the other ... And the Marquis.

It'll be interesting to see what happens with him ...

EDIT: I caught up!

This bit just caught my eye:

Quote :

Shouts were heard below at the camp. A slave had tried to run away from two kabalite warriors. The warriors had both different markings, and the girl knew that they both were members of destroyed kabals. They co-operated, however, in beating the slave who had just made it under the arch when they caught him.

“Bad things happen to mon-keigh when they escape the eldar”, the child said. “Bad things happen to eldar when they try to escape She-Who-Thirsts.”

That's exactly it. "Me against my brother, my brother and I against the world".

Indeed, a kabal joining kabal to fight the whole world! Or maybe their own world...

Anyway.
Chapter 12 is coming up soon, featuring (not really spoilers (but if you like surprises dont read)):

- A silent guy taking time off while guarding someone.
- We get to visit the West-Wing of the Twenty-Eighth tower of the Port of Lost Souls. What could possibly happen there?
- Someone we may know is at the same time chasing and at the same time being chased. Who is s/he chasing? And who on earth is that!!!!
- Dealing with mandrakes.

Chapter 12
Hiding

Silence is needed. Silence is what he wants as well.

The figure was clad in sturdy body armour, yet its movements were graceful and quick.

Silence is not perfect.

A swooshing sound of the blade broke the stillness, the air itself running away to avoid the slash.

Only the sound of my blade is perfect.

The swings continued, the figure nimbly fighting an unseen opponent, its feet moving in a good balance with the rest of the body.
A loud creak interrupted the blade.

Intruders. Have they found us?

The figure took a quick glance at the hallway.

Someone has entered the vestibule of the Shrine.

Then the figure looked at the small door with a painted red spear on it.

He must be protected. I just hope he is awake. My sacrifice for him must not be in vain.

The figure took a few steps and disappeared behind rubble.

The round chamber’s roof had collapsed, and the mist could be seen gathering above.
Someone opened the door of the hallway.
___________________________________________________________________________________


The West-Wing of Twenty-Eighth tower of the Port of Lost Souls was empty. It had been for almost half a cycle, devoid of all spaceships.

That is why it was a surprise for the poor drug-dealer Bons to see a large ship of a weird, bright design to simply appear and race to the port so quickly, and to see the scorched parts of the ship, and to wonder how the cruiser had made it here in one piece.

The dealer Bons pondered and pondered while watching the ship slowly, but surely, attaching itself on to the abandoned docks. Then he finally decided that he had seen more weird things before, and he moved on to considering what it was, and would it buy cheap hypex from him. He took a few more looks at the ship. He was far away from the docks, and his poor vision made it difficult for him to see any markings in it.

He then decided that the ship was probably a corsair one, because if it had been a real craftworld (he didn’t know what a craftworld looked like, and he presumed it was a corsair craftworld), it would not be in Commorragh. Then he noticed people coming out from the ship. He counted three, after which he started counting how much hypex would three people want, and how much he had.

He was still counting his fingers and trying to memorize how much he had already counted, when the haemonculus appeared, looming over the poor drug-dealer Bons.

“Go ahead”, a voice said nearby, “I doubt no one will miss him.”

Bons watched the muscular man in slight confusion and he tried reaching for his cart, but it was too late.

A mighty axe split the poor drug-dealer in half.

The corpse slowly bled to death, while a trio of dark and shady figures walked past it.

Soon, the corsair cruiser exploded, and the West-Wing of Twenty-Eighth tower of the Port of Lost Souls was no more.
___________________________________________________________________________________


It was usual for people to avoid dark alleys in Commorragh, even more so when inside a daemon infested realm.

There was no time for one person, however. He was in a hurry.

He was dying.

He was crawling, reaching out to grab onto something to pull himself forward.

His white hair was messy, and his chest was bleeding a sickly green stuff.

He was halfway to the other side, the two ruined buildings looming at him. Then he stopped moving and tried to catch his breath.

“Damn you… are too fast for me… again.”

He slowly, very slowly, raised himself to lean against a wall and try to sit comfortably. His arms tried to keep the wounds from bleeding anymore, but it looked pointless.

“I tried following you through harsh times.”

A small clinging sound came from a falling metal object. He paid no heed.

“I followed you with splinter at my chest…”

A small humming of a grav-engine is heard.

“I crawled through the streets just to find you…”

A skyboard hovered above the lonely figure, descending between the buildings.

“I… I am going to die. Just because of you.”

Jein had closed his eyes. He was afraid to open them.

He still heard the skyboard, and soon his nostrils were filled with a hideous stench, like from the depths of Nurgle’s bowels. He shivered with fear and pain. He didn’t speak anymore, but the creature did.

“I smell a dreamer.” A hoarse, unbalanced voice said.

Jein finally responded, but not to whatever was in front of him. “I love you, Mozarz…” he whispered.

He felt a claw racing through his neck, and after that, only peace.
___________________________________________________________________________________


Belindy calmly stood in the shadows, against the cold marble. The Merchant-statue hid her from the eyes of all the camp save for a few of the furthest tents, and the walls were a few hundred paces away, so no guards on patrol would see, either.

Her arms folded, she waited.

“Guess who…”

Two hands covered her eyes from behind. Belindy simply frowned and waited.

The two hands withdrew after a long minute, and they disappeared from where they had come; inside the statue.

After that, a figure rose from the shadow of the Merchant’s head.

“I have knowledge”, the same voice said.

“Share.” Belindy had an annoyed, but calm tone.

“Of course. You know the price.”

Belindy swiftly tossed a small knife, and the mandrake safely caught it between two dark fingers. The cold eyes examined the item, before looking at the ganger again.

“Wraithbone. Good price”, the mandrake agreed.

Belindy remained silent, still leaning against the statue.

“I can tell you two out of three. The third, I do not know.”

“There are four.”

“No. There are three.”

“There are four.”

“Not here.”

“Then share the two.”

“One is the highborn brought insane. This you already knew, didn’t you? He still resides at its manor, and it knows many who are willing to destroy it. But it is still the main one. It controls a rift.

“Second is a prisoner of it. It is angry, and if let free, it will likely take the skull of one. It is capable. It is full of hate. The location remains same. But the prison-cell… I do not know.”

“What do you know of the third? Tell everything.”

“It is not much. But it will require more price.”

“What do you know of the third?”

The mandrake took a step back, while still remaining in the shadow of the statue’s head. “The third… is an intruder. An outcast. It is vile, and it…”

“Speak.”

“…Nightfiend gives you a free advice on this. The third one is wiser than what it looks. Not worthy to trust, no, never, it must be destroyed like the other two.”

“Three.”

“No matter. I do not know where the third is… but. But it is. It is.”

“Come back when you know of the fourth.”

“Shadows know all, my lady.”

The mandrake faded away, and Belindy was alone, still leaning against the statue.

After a while, she sighed, and walked back to the camp.