Kabal of Lights' Ruin

Evening all. Hoped to put up a short bit fluff i had started writing for some objective critique. There is next to no story yet, just a little bit of early posturing and long winded groundwork for my story which will mostly take part BEFORE this (the story of my archon's rise to power basically). This is more for opinions on the writing quality rather than the story at the moment Any questions and criticism are welcome.

Arra’nach had been silent for longer than he’d intended. Or more accurately, his newly appointed war-council had been arguing for longer than he had intended to allow them to. Yet listening to his kin, each with varying degrees of expertise and experience, had served to reinforce a feeling that he had, more than once nearly allowed to fade. Utter superiority. Every eldar in the grandiose and in truth, overly adorned hall had been waging war for centuries. Some for millennia. Tactics, troop numbers and deployment, ammunition, ammunition manufacture, equipment and transport, liason to allies and mercenary troops and much more besides. Every facet of war had been experienced in some fashion by at least one of the warriors in the room and, with escalating intensity, they argued over every conceivable detail. Today it was the matter of a swift recovery of the kabal of light’s ruin. There was nothing like a minor regime change to throw everything off balance, despite the fact that they should all have seen it coming. It was this foresight and the fact that Arra’nach disagreed with most of the opinions being voiced, that gave him such satisfaction. Or enraged him, he couldn't quite decide. It mattered not, for there was joy to be had in rage. Dispelling the somewhat pleasant image of decapitating dracon Korlich as a means of gaining the floor, Arra’nach decided on a more subtle yet powerful approach. He stood up. The immediate silence was more gratifying than he had expected…it had been a while since his presence had been more than a façade, or simply tolerated. After a somewhat pregnant pause, Arra’nach chose his first words in hours.

“friends, it appears you have all misunderstood your new purposes and positions, for I do not invite you here each day to speak to, or at one another. You are here, at my behest, for a relatively simple task that is quite frankly beneath me. Or so I had believed yet it appears there is but one person present even capable of dousing the fires of rebellion and bringing...” Arra’nach allowed himself a slight smile that was easily audible in his next words “Order…to what is and always was my birthright”

For centuries, arra’nach had been moving shadowlike through the history of what was now the Light’s ruin’s domain. Millennia ago, the realm of Shogarath had been founded in the webway by some decadent ancient eldar noble family, a hidden pleasure retreat within which they could indulge their fantasies beyond the vision of prying eyes. In truth it was mere vanity that caused its creation, for the entire race was practically as corrupt as the family who forged this domain. However the needs of the ego dictated certain protocols be followed. Territory was a traditional example. Thus Shogorath had formed like an insipid cancerous mass within the webway and over time, as with the rest of the ancient pleasure domains, hidden port cities and pits of immorality, shogorath had been subsumed into the great murderous entity that was the dark city. And as with all the other off shoot realms and smaller domains joined together with the larger inner city by portals of varying sizes, shogorath needed a master. Many would say that of course Vect was it’s master, as he was with the rest of Commorragh, but none so far from Vect’s domain truly felt much of his authority, much less owed him fealty. For nigh on 5 millennia now shogorath had been under the heel of Archon Nekokas. Great statues to his power and cunning had stood for longer than Arra’nach had been alive, and aslong as the steady tithe of souls or soldiers was available, Vect seemed content to allow such vanity to continue. Arra’nach, a trueborn birthed in the shadow of colossal monuments and grand palaces, was not content. His parents had been murdered while Arra’nach was still but a child, a result of his fathers high flying ambitions and low flying cunning. This fact in itself was of no great discomfort to Arra’nach, for in the dark city the weak do not and SHOULD not last long. Arra’nach’s seething rage and thirst for power had stemmed much more from the archon Nekokas’ arrogance, for he had cast the young Arra’nach to the streets of low Commorragh to be preyed upon by whatever merciless denizens took a fancy to his relatively unblemished soul. To think that darkness would take him, or that some cut-throat would end his pitiful life was almost laughable to Arra’nach now. It had not been then.

“My lord I….WE meant only to…” Korlich began, only to be silence by a dismissive silencing gesture.

“Your intentions are not the issue, though I suspect you were about to lie to an astonishing degree about them. No, it is my intentions that you need be concerned with. Nothing more. And I intend to fan the smoldering embers of Shogorath…to elevate my home beyond the ‘glories’ of Nekokas….and for that I require obedience and a council that can handle logistics. One shall be ensured with brutality…I shall leave the decision of which one to the council”.
Arra’nach had learned few things from his father, but one of the most important things was that outright violence should never be underestimated as a tool of diplomacy. His father's murder had solved a great many problems for someone, somewhere. Such a diplomatic tool tended to offer a great deal of amusement too, which could only be a bonus. Enforcing his last words with a slight shrug, Arra’nach turned to leave. His cadre of silent incubi silently turned to follow but were halted by a sudden raised hand.
“ And to think I almost forgot, Lady Ayali…” Arra’nach stated matter of factly with his back still turned to the room. Turning his gaze slowly towards the Eldar in question, like an inquisitive predator would regard a creature too small to eat, Arra’nach smiled behind the skull like visage of his helm.
“my lord?” Ayali replied with feigned nonchalance.
“We have a matter of some importance to discuss…regarding certain rumours of conduct. I’m sure you understand if I don’t stand on ceremony”
2 of Arra’nach’s incubi had flanked Ayali as he spoke.
“I invite you to my quarters, to...resolve the matter.” All civility had faded by the last sentence, leaving little to the imagination with regards to its meaning.

Whuuuuut. Awesome.

Nicely dramatic and with a delicate thread of underlying menace in the last paragraphs. I especially like the way he pauses once he has almost gone to give his last bit of "news". Arra'nach has a very suitable degree of arrogance and an amount of self-belief that would, if I were Vect, encourage me to keep a close eye on him.

Quote :

“Your intentions are not the issue, though I suspect you were about to lie to an astonishing degree about them."

And I loved this

I'm aiming for him to be at least a little subtle when it comes to politics (like turning his back to a room full of scumbags just to prove he doesnt see them as a threat), but unlike vect and the others i want him to be more brutal than most with his punishments. Mostly because for the last few centuries he has been killing dracons, warriors, politicians and masquerading as them for a while, before moving on to the next one (basically shaping the kabal from within without anyone ever knowing he was even still alive) and now is his time...he doesnt have to hide anymore. ALOT more to write if i wanna get half of the stuff in my head into a story but thank you for the replies so far, it's much appreciated :)will try to write more soon

also i need to start using other words for 'silent'....see it repeated alot when I read through this   

easy enough to change

Moved to a more appropriate forum.

With my mod hat off I would like to say that this is a fantastic piece of work, a great way to introduce yourself to TDC and I would be very pleased if you were to write some more in the future. If I had more time I'd talk about all the little things I picked up on, like the lovely politics, but I'll have to leave it at 'great work' for now.

Evening all...i cant help but feel i've gotten a little darker today, but as always any criticisms are welcome and i hope you all enjoy

The dark polished obsidian corridor was lit with the slightest of purple glows. So polished was every surface of the hallway that Arra'nach knew from experience that were he so inclined he could view his reflection on every surface and the reflection of the opposite surface in the first. The strange effect of a pitch black and purple infinity, with him at its centre felt like an almost pleasing metaphor for much of his life. Surround by shimmering images of himself, hundreds perhaps thousands all enacting his every move and yet only one true Arra'nach. The centre of all the falsehoods and reflections of himself. It was a rare occasion indeed that Arra'nach had been himself over the past thousand blood soaked, lie saturated years.
He had been torture to within an inch of what his young, weak body could survive. The corpse of his father hung stock still in front of him as he tried to crawl to within reach of the dagger that lay on the floor for the hundredth time. Serilas, the first dracon of the Sundered Blade and right hand to Nekokas himself, pealed with mocking laughter as he had each time Arra'nach had came withing grabbing distance of the dagger. How many bones had been broken in his young body, how much of his lifeblood lay pooled around him Arra'nach didn't know, or care. The dagger and Serilas. His hand, his heart. Thinking back to that first true near death experience, the pure simplicity of the hatred and the gut wrenching NEED to kill. Such a pure state of pain and rage had set the tone for the rest of his life to date. He always smiled when he thought back to those agony filled hours, not least of all because despite all his laughter, Serilas' last moments were filled with fear. Fear. Arra'nach had waited for over a thousand years to see it, to enact vengeance on the dracon, but it was every bit as satisfying as it ought to have been. Back then however, when Serilas had slaughtered Arra'nach's "noble" family, and grew tired of toying with the young boy who defied him no matter the cost, he had simply tossed Arra'nach into the streets of low Commorragh to die. The first being to come upon him, hissing from dry lips and staring at him with gaunt covetous eyes was some pathetic parched eldar. A fool who had been too long without the sustenance of death and pain, a creature so desperate for the merest whiff of death, that it had crawled right up to the injured boy and tried to choke him without caution or preamble. A few gouged eyes, and a cracked skull later and Arra'nach had performed his first true kill without aid. The soul the creature yielded had been pathetic...but it had been enough to start the boy on his path.
Arra'nach shook his head slightly, as if to dispell the clouds of thought. This corridor always made him pensive and the thoughts it provoked in him had always served as a reminder of his origins. While he couldn't quite tell if he liked it or not, he knew he needed it. A quick glance behind him confirmed that the lady Ayali was being escorted safely behind him, and as the hall of reflection concluded with an equally polished set of stairs leading to his chambers, Arra'nach signaled his Incubi to halt.
"The lady and i will discuss matters alone...see to it that the council remain in deliberation for now"
"My lord...". Sweet virgins blood, but getting more than two words from the Klaviex was like milking a megasaur. The question in the incubis reply was strangely obvious however, causing Arra'nach to wonder if he and the Klaviex had begun to formulate their own, incredibly boring and monotone form of communication. Sighing at the mere thought, Arra'nach answered the un-asked question anyway.
"Seal those bickering idiots in that council chambers until i tell you to open the doors. Oh and you talk too much..."
With a curt nod, and a sharp turn the Klaviex strode off back the way they had come, followed shortly after by the rest of the Incubi. The last to leave stared suspiciously at Ayali before he left, as if to remind her that Arra'nach was under his protection by contract. She simply blew him a mocking kiss. A sharp hiss signaled that The Archon had already scaled the stairs and entered his chambers without waiting. As she crested the last step, and passed the threshold of her 'masters' chambers, Ayali couldn't help but smile. There was arrogance and then there was outright stupidity. Arra'nach was being outright arrogantly stupid. As the doors closed with an identical sharp hiss she drew her hidden vambrace dagger, using the sound of the doors to mask the slight rasp of metal on armour. The Archon was already pouring himself some wine from a garish decanter. Too easy.
"You know...I cant help but feel a few holes would make retaining this wine somewhat difficult"
Ayali paused mid step. He always knew, but then this was the 4th time she had been smuggled or dragged into his chambers this week alone and everytime she had attempted to kill him in some fashion.
"Care for some wine Ayali? I assure you it's quite unique in flavour..."
"I must decline my lord" Every word dripping with false reverance and after a short pause she dropped the act entirely "Besides it is probably poisoned just to insult me...."
Arra'nach laughed, though Ayali couldn't quite tell how genuine it was. No matter how much she studied the wretched archon she could never get get a handle on when he was lying.
"My dear lady, of course it's poisoned!...we just left a room with 7 squabbling simpletons, each of which adore the thought of me dying in my chambers choking on mediocre bloodwine. They've been trying to kill me for the last two weeks in truth, and you've drunk plenty of my wine up till now so i would count myself lucky if i were you that they lack in both imagination and resources, while I have antidotes galore..."
Every visit started the same. Ever since Arra'nach had stolen her from the clutches of a freelancing haemonculi coven 643 years ago, he had promised her one thing. Not riches, not fame, and not power. NEVER power, for unlike the vast majority of her race, Ayali disdained the thought of leadership. Endless talking and negotiating, all the while checking your bed for snakes. Pointless. No Arra'nach had promised her violence on a monumental scale, pain and suffering, death and despair, if she would but follow him. He had trained her from a lowly street thug, through a merciless regime of personal combat, murder and cunning. He then unleashed her upon the Sundered Blade Kabal, an uncompromising warrior of such skill that she was bound to climb the ranks. While Arra'nach masqueraded as some noble or other, Ayali fought and climbed the torturous ladder of leadership, not for power and not to command...but to destroy, to bring Arra'nach withing striking distance, to allow him the power he desired so that he may grant her the destruction she prayed for. Even now no one knew of their mutual history and Arra'nach seemed content to keep it hidden. Other than to find excuses to have her brought to his chambers of course but if Ayali was honest, though she rarely was, the nights entertainment Arra'nach had planned suited her just fine.
"I am not some toy you can summon and cast aside as you please...my lord..." The sarcastic inference of his new title was a deliberate provocation. Arra'nach was more fun when he was angry.
"Casting you aside is not my intention tonight" Arra'nach almost growled "Poison makes me amorous...."