#like. was isha's helmet before or after

[moodymisty]

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙| 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author’s note: Send help. Send a therapist I don’t know I just need some form of mental health assistance.

Relationships: Typhus/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW (god save me), Disgusting Nurgle stuff, Fingering, Like 72 degrees of unsafe sex, Implied sex pollen/aphrodisiac, Noncon, Stockholm syndrome, Tentacles,

It’s a massive room, at one point it might have been a cathedral; To Mortarion, to the Emperor, or who else else the Death Guard worshiped before falling to Nurgle. Slime leaks from the walls and rusts away at the metal, eating holes in piping and supports alike. Tentacles, spores and other types of biomass litter it, with little botflies fluttering about. What they're doing you don't know, but they catch your eye every now and again.

It's not as if you can do much else. He's taken your hope, your energy, your home.

In the center of all this rot and decay is your place; A flowerbed of sickly blossoms and blooms, moss and mushrooms all infected by Nurgle.

A beautiful flowerbed for his own little Isha, Calas had said. Though he’s no longer Calas, is he? Typhon has become Typhus, and you've become prisoner.

You now lay on your bed of rotten blooms, picking at flower petals. You can’t escape him- even if you escaped this massive rotten cathedral, where would you go? This ship is his, and you’re deep in what is now heretic space.

He won’t let you die; He won’t let you leave. Bare skin lays against the sticky moss, spores brushing against you.

He’d taken your clothes after the last time, other than the thin cloth that serves as a near useless, dress. You suppose he finds a sort of elegance to it- a maiden in white amidst a pit of disgust. Another parallel to Isha. He's been meticulous in recreating it all so he has his own glimmer of light betwixt a defiled cathedral and a ship of the most putrid diseases.

You can only lay hopeless, displayed on your flowerbed underneath corruption forming a mockery of trees with budded flowers, rotten petals falling to the floor. Typhus’ own altar to whatever desires he has in his head.

Suddenly movement causes you to raise upward, restoring your sanity and consciousness. You’ve never heard even close to this much noise before, not even when the Death Guard were forming up to invade a poor, hopeless planet.

“In here!”

You turn your head to the massive cathedral doors, watching them shake before giving way and pushing apart with loud creaking. Your heart pounds in your chest with more hope than you’ve ever had before, at the sight.

It’s Astartes! A squad of them. You don’t know where they’re from or what they’re doing here, but they’re here to save you from this. Save you from him. To finally either pull you from this rotten ship or kill you here, and finally end this state of undeath Typhus has you lingering in.

One of the Astartes comes closer and reaches for you, and you weakly reach out a hand for him. You try to touch it, but you don’t make contact; it’s like your hand nearly falls through.

“What happened?”

He says, and you wish you had the ability to explain. How Calas has changed, the ship becoming nothing more than a vessel of disgust and disease.

“Help me,” You weakly say, but it feels like you’re trying to speak underwater.

Where did the other Astartes disappear to?

The marine’s armored hand reaches down to grasp your bare arm, and you think you hear him say your name. But how would he know it?

He says it again, and again…

And then your body jolts, legs straightening as your eyes open. Your lips part as you gasp, taking in so deep a breath you almost choke on the air.

“There you are, my girl.”

The man once called Calas looks over you while on his knee, the grill of his helmet hiding what is left of his face.

You’ve seen it; How the Nurgle infection has eaten away at his skin, changing was left to sickly yellow, green and purple. His armor seems entangled with his flesh, becoming one and the same. His appearance horrifies you, and makes you yearn for what once was.

“Were you having a nightmare?”

His rusted gauntlet scrapes across your skin, nicking your cheek. You try to avoid shivering, hands pressing against the ground below you.

It wasn’t a nightmare, it was the brightest glimpse of hope you had since Typhus doomed all of the Death Guard, and it was little more than your imagination.

“My sweet girl, you were asking for help.”

His hand drifts from your face, you wonder why it smells sweet, down your neck then the rest of your body and you whimper, trying to move away from him. His armor feels warm like it's almost alive, and perhaps it is- they're one and the same now.

His massive gauntlet slips between your legs, armored fingers diving between your folds as you writhe and attempt to pull away from him.

“I can grant your every desire much like grandfather does with Isha, you only need to let me in.”

He already is in; You feel his rusted gauntlet prod at your entrance. Your whimper and push at him, in some futile attempt to escape.

“Stop, please stop,”

Calas- Typhus, forces his armor finger into you and feels the way you tighten, pressing your hips down into the mossy flowerbed. Tears prick your eyes as you feel him sink into you deep, cold armor pressing against your cunt.

“You don’t want me to stop; I can smell you. The honey you’re making.”

You want him to stop, you want your skin to stop buzzing and heating up, as you feel your body begin to betray you. The flowers, the spores, Typhus himself, you don't know what he does that makes you lose control over yourself, but you hate every moment of it. It makes tears roll down your cheeks as your stomach tightens in knots over the feeling of his now two fingers deep inside of you, the palm of his gauntlet pushing against your clit.

“Please…. Stop…”

You try to turn away from him but his other hand grasps your jaw, turning you right back. Your body feels so hot, you can feel the brushing of little tentacles across your inner thighs, your breasts, your neck. Whether they’re from him or the flowerbed you don’t know, but they only serve to spark trails of fire as your body heats up like a furnace.

Typhus removes his hand from your cunt to push your thighs wider apart, the bottoms of your feet almost touching. They stay fallen apart, and your hands reach down to grasp at his decayed gauntlet as he pushes his fingers back into you.

Just finish, give him what he wants and then he'll leave. Ignore how good he makes you feel.

He hears you let out a whimper, finally broken. He laughs, the fingers of his other hand stroking your cheek.

“Good girl, just let me gift you all that you desire.”

You can hear the wet squelches of your own cunt as you leak over his rusted, decayed armor, weeping for more without your permission. You can hear in the back of your mind the no no no no no, but it's so chained by whatever sweet scent had filled your nostrils that you can't touch it.

You just want to be filled, by anything.

Your thoughts become your own for a moment as you feel how much you hate when he does this; It’s like your body and mind detach and you can no longer control yourself.

Your hands grasp his gauntlet tighter and try to pull him closer, arch closer to him, begging for more. The disgust of mushrooms and slime and rotten petals falling on your skin fades as he fills your mind with nothing but forced desire for him.

“It took Isha many years to realize Grandfather was her savior,” He pulls his fingers from your tight heat to tease your clit and make you gasp, before sinking them into you again. Your hips jerk upwards, tears in your eyes from how much you want this and how much you don’t want this. “And now you see, as well.”

You feel the tickle of flies landing on your skin, it makes you want to vomit. They always hover around him like he has a gravitational pull.

You cum against his hand as he thrusts his armored fingers deep into you, crying out with a voice now hoarse from your whimpers and cries. He hums pleased behind his helm, as you lay limp in front of him. Your inner thighs are slick, and you feel something tickle against them that isn't his hand.

He pulls his soaked hand from between your thighs, putting it on your stomach as his other hand slips underneath your shoulderblades. He raises you slightly up off the flowerbed removing his hand from your stomach to take off his helmet.

You want to look away, to preserve the memory of Calas. But he’s gone, rotted away. You feel his hand cup your jaw to force you to look at him, your lips brushing against his dried, rotten mouth.

His hand returns to your stomach again.

“My beautiful little flower in her beautiful little garden; Begging to be pollinated.” You feel your mind returning from its foggy state and you weakly kick your legs wanting to get away.

“You are in bloom, my beautiful little flower. I can’t wait to make so many more.”

[tearofisha]

The Ranger tugged the hood of his Cameleoline cloak over his helmet and followed Ana into the nearby trees.

"By my count, it's been over 4,800 days since the beast forced its way into the Webway with its warband, and in that time its forces forces have multiplied Isha knows how many times. For it is not a psyker in the vein of typical Ork Weirdboys or Ork Warbosses. When we fought the Shadow War, it was almost as though the Orks were being controlled by the Shamans singular will, like a Tyranid hive mind."

Rishaeron cracked his knuckles and gazed back at Jenny, assisting the harvest. Mr'ez always did pick such quant places to spend her infinite life, then he thought about the last world he was on where he discovered that the Shaman still existed, before leaving Aelinor behind in the devastation to pursue this path. It's as good as suicide, she warned. Good thing he stood beside an immortal.

"It raises a number of issues. We can find the creature easily enough, but to sneak amongst a million Orks and kill their leader is near impossible without the proper preparation. So, we must find a way to disguise our presence from the Shamans' attention, a way to kill Orks without their deaths giving away our position and, respectfully, the weaponry required to do such a task." Rishaeron let the silence hang for a long moment, the magnitude of the task before them laid out like a road that stretched into a bloody, uncertain horizon.

"When I first met you, I helped you find your child." He held up the trinket Ana had given him in exchange for a carving of Isha's crying eye, hoping beyond hope that she still had hers after so long. "I never asked anything in return. Today, I ask for your help in this. Help me kill this creature." He held the trinket in the palm of his hand and offered his hand to her.

"Will you help me?"

First Step.

There were few things Rishaeron Wayfinder knew to be true. Astartes armoured was weakest at the neck joint, Plasma weaponry exploded violently when the coils were shot, and when called upon, he could find Anastasia Mr'ez wherever she was in the universe within a solar month.

Therefore, it was no surprise when the Ranger stood before the perpetual like an apparition, his body tense like a coiled spring and an intensity that penetrated his helmets lenses.

"I need to talk to you. " He stated, his tone the same as it was in combat scenarios. Between the body language and the coldness in his voice, it was obvious something serious was on his mind.

"I've found trace of the Ork Psyker, and am making plans for the kill at last. You saw the battlefield, you saw the dead, and now is the time for the beast to die." He nodded over Ana's shoulder. "Somewhere more private, perhaps."

@some-old-psyker

[maswartz]

Power Rider Animaster

(Logo by Markolios and @riceyhot)

Many many centuries ago King Trion was faced with warring kingdoms on every side. To defend his people he ordered his alchemists to create a new kind of warrior, one that took its power from various animals. They succeeded and created the Anima out of Animal Medals that harnessed the power of unique animals. However the Anima were too great of warriors and soon turned on Trion. They had the power to use Bio Medals to create more of their kind they called BioBeasts. The Anima soon waged war against each other and endangered anyone caught in the crossfire. The ensuing conflict was called the Anima War

Desperate Trion and the warring kingdoms formed an alliance and with the aid of one of the Anima named Avius a group of alchemists from all the kingdoms sealed the Anima away within a tomb, even Avius was sealed. When King Trion passed he made his own tomb the seal for the prison of the Anima.

One day an archeologist accidentally broke the seal releasing the Anima. The Anima War has begun again. King Trion’s spirit instructed the man to use his power to defeat the Anima. Avius forms a tense alliance with the man seeking revenge on his fellow Anima. The man became Power Rider Animaster.

The archeologist was a man named Isha Maheswaran and using the Hawk Tiger and Grasshopper medals he transforms into Animaster Ha-Ti-Gra. The hawk medal grants enhanced vision, the tiger grants slashing claws and the grasshopper grants great leaping.

Face Claim: Waris Ahluwalia

Transformation Device: Wild Belt Transformation Call: Let’s Ride Transformation: Three medals with the alchemist symbol for each animal form in front of him before attaching to his and forming the armor. As the armor forms images of the three animals appear behind him sounding off. Finishing Moves: Rider Kick (triple charged kick) Rider Slash (uses his sword charged by a Bio Medal) Vehicle: Anima Cycle: High speed cycle

Isha can use a wide array of Animal Medals to transform into many different forms, however the most powerful forms are the combos.

The Beetle Mantis and Grasshopper combo is known as Animaster Be-Ma-Gra. The beetle grants shocking lighting, the mantis grants slashing blades and the grasshopper grants great leaping. In addition to these the Be-Ma-Gra form has the ability to split into clones of himself. Finishing Move- Rider Swarm (clones all kick a single target)

The Lion Tiger and Cheetah combo is known as Animaster Li-Ti-Che. The lion grants the ability to produce blinding light, the tiger grants slashing claws and the cheetah grants amazing speed. In addition to these the Li-Ti-Che form has the ability to emit intense heat. Finishing Move- Rider Rush (speeds towards the enemy and slashes)

The Rhino Gorilla and Elephant combo is known as Animaster Rhi-Gor-Ele. The rhino grants a hardened helmet with a horn to use as a weapon, the gorilla grants powerful gauntlets for punching and the elephant grants the ability to create minor earthquakes. In addition to these the Rhi-Gor-Ele form has the ability to control gravity. Finishing Move- Rider Smash (uses a quake to trap the enemy before finishing them off with a mighty punch)

The Hawk Peacock and Condor combo is known as Animaster Ha-Pea-Con and is one of Isha’s most powerful forms. The hawk grants enhanced vision, the peacock grants wings that can be used as projectile weapons and the condor grants powerful talon like legs. In addition to these the Ha-Pea-Con form has the ability of flight and can use the Phoenix Shield to create mighty burning attacks. Finishing Move- Rider Flame (uses the Phoenix Shield charged with medals to shoot a burning blast)

The Whale Eel and Octopus combo is known as Animaster Wha-Eel-Octo. The whale grants the power to breathe underwater, the eel grants electric whips and the octopus grants the octopus legs which split into four in  total. In addition to these the Wha-Eel-Octo form can turn his body into living water. Finishing Move- Rider Wave (turns into water and attacks with a flurry of blows)

The Cobra Turtle and Crocodile combo is known as Animaster Cob-Tur-Cro. The cobra grants immunity to poisons, the turtle grants a sturdy energy shield and the crocodile grants a powerful slide kick. In addition to these the Cob-Tur-Cro form can summon a giant energy cobra from the wrap on his head to attack the enemy. Finishing Move- Rider Venom (the energy cobra bites the enemy weakening them leading to a slide kick)

The Pterodactyl Triceratops and Tyrannosaurus combo is known as Animaster Pte-Tri-Tyranno. The pterodactyl grants the power of flight, the triceratops grants shoulder spikes and the tyrannosaurus grants a whipping tail. In addition to these the Pte-Tri-Tyranno form can use the wings to freeze his enemies as well as use a gun-ax charged by medals. These medals cannot be used with any other medals and this combo is powerful enough to destroy the medals themselves! Finishing Moves- Rider Blizzard (freezes and smashes the enemy) Rider Blast (uses the gun-ax to destroy the enemy)

A young woman named Priyanka Patel was selected by an orginzation who took a quick interest in the Anima. She was picked to use the Genesis system to fight the Anima alongside Isha. This allows her to become Power Rider Genesis. In this form she can use Bio Medals to produce weapons. Face Claim: Chriselle Almeida Transformation Device: Genesis System Transformation Call: Let’s Ride Transformation: The armor forms around her Finishing Move: Rider Armor (summons all her weapons at once forming a mighty armor)

After the original Genesis system was destroyed in a battle it was rebuilt as the Regen system turning Priyanka into Power Rider Regen. Her abilities are the same but stronger. Transformation Device: Regen System Transformation Call: Let’s Ride Finishing Move: Regen Armor (a stronger form of the Rider Armor) Power Rider Duow/Animaster: A man claiming to be the reincarnation of King Trion appears. He’s even able to transform into Animaster with his own combos. At first Isha welcomes the help against the Anima but the truth is soon revealed when Arnold Jones comes searching for the King Memster. It turns out the man was a collector of rare antiques and used his King Memory Unit to steal for his collection. One day he stole a relic belonging to King Trion and somehow absorbed the Animal Medals and gaining part of the King’s personality. However the man’s original cruel nature resurfaces and he absorbs the Royal Hawk, Tiger and Grasshopper Medals becoming a monstrous beast both Riders must defeat. In the aftermath Isha takes the remaining Medals for his own use. “King Trion’s” combos Elk, Antelope, Bull (El-An-Bul)- Combo power- Energy horns Shrimp, Crab, Scorpion (Shi-Cra-Sco)- Combo power- Swimming through the ground Centipede, Bee, Ant (Ce-Be-An)- Combo power- Turns body into living swarm Walrus, Polar Bear, Penguin (Wa-Po-Pen) - Combo power- Summons snowstorm Wolf. Porcupine, Rabbit (Wo-Por-Ra)- Combo power- Camouflage (Faces by @dream-chef-flavors)

Previous Powerverse Next

[mspowerverse]

Power Rider Animaster

(Logo by Markolios and @riceyhot)

Many many centuries ago King Trion was faced with warring kingdoms on every side. To defend his people he ordered his alchemists to create a new kind of warrior, one that took its power from various animals. They succeeded and created the Anima out of Animal Medals that harnessed the power of unique animals. However the Anima were too great of warriors and soon turned on Trion. They had the power to use Bio Medals to create more of their kind they called BioBeasts. The Anima soon waged war against each other and endangered anyone caught in the crossfire. The ensuing conflict was called the Anima War

Desperate Trion and the warring kingdoms formed an alliance and with the aid of one of the Anima named Avius a group of alchemists from all the kingdoms sealed the Anima away within a tomb, even Avius was sealed. When King Trion passed he made his own tomb the seal for the prison of the Anima.

One day an archeologist accidentally broke the seal releasing the Anima. The Anima War has begun again. King Trion’s spirit instructed the man to use his power to defeat the Anima. Avius forms a tense alliance with the man seeking revenge on his fellow Anima. The man became Power Rider Animaster.

The archeologist was a man named Isha Maheswaran and using the Hawk Tiger and Grasshopper medals he transforms into Animaster Ha-Ti-Gra. The hawk medal grants enhanced vision, the tiger grants slashing claws and the grasshopper grants great leaping.

Face Claim: Waris Ahluwalia

Transformation Device: Wild Belt Transformation Call: Let’s Ride Transformation: Three medals with the alchemist symbol for each animal form in front of him before attaching to his and forming the armor Finishing Moves: Rider Kick (triple charged kick) Rider Slash (uses his sword charged by a Bio Medal) Vehicle: Anima Cycle: High speed cycle

Isha can use a wide array of Animal Medals to transform into many different forms, however the most powerful forms are the combos.

The Beetle Mantis and Grasshopper combo is known as Animaster Be-Ma-Gra. The beetle grants shocking lighting, the mantis grants slashing blades and the grasshopper grants great leaping. In addition to these the Be-Ma-Gra form has the ability to split into clones of himself. Finishing Move- Rider Swarm (clones all kick a single target)

The Lion Tiger and Cheetah combo is known as Animaster Li-Ti-Che. The lion grants the ability to produce blinding light, the tiger grants slashing claws and the cheetah grants amazing speed. In addition to these the Li-Ti-Che form has the ability to emit intense heat. Finishing Move- Rider Rush (speeds towards the enemy and slashes)

The Rhino Gorilla and Elephant combo is known as Animaster Rhi-Gor-Ele. The rhino grants a hardened helmet with a horn to use as a weapon, the gorilla grants powerful gauntlets for punching and the elephant grants the ability to create minor earthquakes. In addition to these the Rhi-Gor-Ele form has the ability to control gravity. Finishing Move- Rider Smash (uses a quake to trap the enemy before finishing them off with a mighty punch)

The Hawk Peacock and Condor combo is known as Animaster Ha-Pea-Con and is one of Isha’s most powerful forms. The hawk grants enhanced vision, the peacock grants wings that can be used as projectile weapons and the condor grants powerful talon like legs. In addition to these the Ha-Pea-Con form has the ability of flight and can use the Phoenix Shield to create mighty burning attacks. Finishing Move- Rider Flame (uses the Phoenix Shield charged with medals to shoot a burning blast)

The Whale Eel and Octopus combo is known as Animaster Wha-Eel-Octo. The whale grants the power to breathe underwater, the eel grants electric whips and the octopus grants the octopus legs which split into four in  total. In addition to these the Wha-Eel-Octo form can turn his body into living water. Finishing Move- Rider Wave (turns into water and attacks with a flurry of blows)

The Cobra Turtle and Crocodile combo is known as Animaster Cob-Tur-Cro. The cobra grants immunity to poisons, the turtle grants a sturdy energy shield and the crocodile grants a powerful slide kick. In addition to these the Cob-Tur-Cro form can summon a giant energy cobra from the wrap on his head to attack the enemy. Finishing Move- Rider Venom (the energy cobra bites the enemy weakening them leading to a slide kick)

The Pterodactyl Triceratops and Tyrannosaurus combo is known as Animaster Pte-Tri-Tyranno. The pterodactyl grants the power of flight, the triceratops grants shoulder spikes and the tyrannosaurus grants a whipping tail. In addition to these the Pte-Tri-Tyranno form can use the wings to freeze his enemies as well as use a gun-ax charged by medals. These medals cannot be used with any other medals and this combo is powerful enough to destroy the medals themselves! Finishing Moves- Rider Blizzard (freezes and smashes the enemy) Rider Blast (uses the gun-ax to destroy the enemy)

A young woman named Priyanka Patel was selected by an orginzation who took a quick interest in the Anima. She was picked to use the Genesis system to fight the Anima alongside Isha. This allows her to become Power Rider Genesis. In this form she can use Bio Medals to produce weapons. Face Claim: Chriselle Almeida Transformation Device: Genesis System Transformation Call: Let’s Ride Transformation: The armor forms around her Finishing Move: Rider Armor (summons all her weapons at once forming a mighty armor)

After the original Genesis system was destroyed in a battle it was rebuilt as the Regen system turning Priyanka into Power Rider Regen. Her abilities are the same but stronger. Transformation Device: Regen System Transformation Call: Let’s Ride Finishing Move: Regen Armor (a stronger form of the Rider Armor) Power Rider Duow/Animaster: A man claiming to be the reincarnation of King Trion appears. He’s even able to transform into Animaster with his own combos. At first Isha welcomes the help against the Anima but the truth is soon revealed when Arnold Jones comes searching for the King Memster. It turns out the man was a collector of rare antiques and used his King Memory Unit to steal for his collection. One day he stole a relic belonging to King Trion and somehow absorbed the Animal Medals and gaining part of the King’s personality. However the man’s original cruel nature resurfaces and he absorbs the Royal Hawk, Tiger and Grasshopper Medals becoming a monstrous beast both Riders must defeat. In the aftermath Isha takes the remaining Medals for his own use. “King Trion’s” combos Elk, Antelope, Bull (El-An-Bul)- Combo power- Energy horns Shrimp, Crab, Scorpion (Shi-Cra-Sco)- Combo power- Swimming through the ground Centipede, Bee, Ant (Ce-Be-An)- Combo power- Turns body into living swarm Walrus, Polar Bear, Penguin (Wa-Po-Pen) - Combo power- Summons snowstorm Wolf. Porcupine, Rabbit (Wo-Por-Ra)- Combo power- Camouflage (Faces by @dream-chef-flavors)

Previous Powerverse Next

[xenosgirlvents]

Take wing

Never again, not for him, for anything else, yes, but not for him...

Armoured soles crunched down on to the hardened earth, not soil or sand as he’d seen so many times before, no, this planet was better described as baked, a hard crust which simmered with earthen heat, casting a haze about everything, a distortion visible to those who used sight to chart their course.

He would have dismissed this vista, simply ignored it, or perhaps not even noticed it enough to ignore it in the first place. After all to ignore something implied the negation of noticing it, if it was never to be noticed in the first place then it did not need to be ignored either. He could almost hear his voice now; 

“Every battlefield has elements of every other, I have no need to take in the peculiarities of every permutation of conflict simply to satisfy a need to find meaning in it. Conflict is a calculation of loss and gain as much as agriculture is,”

He wondered if He would find the reference to farming humorous or aggravating when he told it. In his defence He was a Reaper, what better farmer could there be?

Arathaiel

He almost said it out loud; ‘We are almost there, we are nearing the moment I am dreading, we are ourselves becoming’ but the experience of a thousand lifetimes welled up inside of him like a great wave and smothered any such trite and comforting sentiment. If he felt something it was exactly because he forced himself to, not because he could not help it, but because he had consciously chosen not to be like a Reaper.

“My Lord,“

Kneeling was not an uncommon sight, if an unwelcome one, and though he knew the gesture was nothing more than a pointlessly symbolic one, bespeaking an appeal-to-humility-others-could-not-accept he did so anyway, for his body already bespoke that he was one-who-sought-to-be-less-than-his-station and, in frankness, he had been knelt to for over nine-thousand years, he doubted that one single moment in the interval of his half-lives would become the exception, despite the inherent fallacy in such an consideration.

His wings bristled a bit, instead, as he felt them contract back against him, not concealed, but no longer splayed out for others to admire. As always his armour responded to him fluidly, not as if it was an extension of himself, or as if it were alive, but rather as if it was simply another limb, like an arm or leg, and he contracted it with muscle and ligament working in tandem, except in truth it was wraithbone surging with the impulses of his mind. Of course, for him, the difference between flesh and blood and wraithbone were, at best, a liminal one.

We won, at least, or rather they won, it is there victory, not mine, it is his victory...

He felt the stirring inside of him and comforted it, knowing that it was fear now, yet assuring it nonetheless; to feel fear now is not weakness, your sacrifice, your bravery, is not invalidated by your wish to linger on, you are no coward. In the absence of fear there is no bravery, it is only because you acted against fear, despite knowing it, that you are brave...

“Father...you...lived..I feared...no-” it was the Exarch, he remembered, from before, a tall Aeldari who’s body bespoke of great relief and terror, mixed in a cocktail of doubt. Their Shrine felt the same but whereas the Exarch’s Mask could never fall, and thus all such feelings ha might quiet their wrath was fed to the flame of Khaine and transformed into yet more lust, the Aspect Warriors themselves were now bereft of Masks and left seeking comfort, in each other or...in him...

“You all fought well, it was an honour to fly beside you and witness you tear the eyes from the foe, your grace was enough to make even Falcon jealous were she here, and you struck like Khaine’s own spear into the eyes of Angacalan,” if he could provide them comfort, provide them relief, then he would do so, a shining light is what Teacher had called him and, though mockingly, the knowledge that Reaper did the same only served to motivate him more. It worked too, as he knew it would, the simmering fires in their breasts surged as they were transposed to the bloody-handed King himself, tearing apart from metaphorical beast. It was true that inciting the Mask upon others was not something he could do without tasting foul in his own mouth but, as of now, they needed that Mask to pull them through their losses. 

At all times evil, but some times a necessary evil, teacher...

“I must beg an indulgence of you for a moment, honoured Shrine Mother, if I may?” His eyes told all the Exarch needed to know, communicating both who he wished to speak to and the privacy he desired. It was, he reflected, curious that even though he had no true ‘eyes’ to speak of, other Aeldari still seemed able to read them...or at least read what he wanted to read in them.

“Of course, the Seers need us to return soon regardless, we shall await for him by the Chu’lian’oc, honoured Father,” the Shrine took wing, and it was in flight that he could most keenly see their losses, less than half remaining, and one of that missing half still here, waiting, seated with knees raised to his chest, a helmet  clasped in both hands, reversed so its stoic features, designed to appear heroic, gazed back into the warrior’s own face.

“Arathaiel?” 

A suppresed sob greeted him, the warrior not bothering to look up but, instead, leaning forward, his forehead touching to the metaphorical beak of his own helm, even as he, himself, reached up and ran articulated fingers of wraithbone over what passed for his ‘beak’.

“You do not know that name...you do not know me...you are not...”

“Him? No, I am not, and it would be a cruel and evil being to give you any impression I am,” he finished for him, standing above him for a moment...

“...but I do know you, because, in his own way, he has told me of you,” despite the baroque nature of his armour he folded and sat with nary a sound, barely feeling the heat which rose from the baked earth, his legs folded in contemplation over each other, arms resting each on a knee, head turned to regard the far distance, where the motley of colour which was the Warhost gathered about in the winding movements of some rainbow serpent.

“I do not want to know,” Arathaiel said, after the silence had run its course, his head rising ever so slightly from behind his Hawk helm, to reveal a striking face, eyes still ringed with some sorrow, though the sunken and hollow gaze in them absorbed that sadness til little of it remained. For an Aspect Warrior, he knew, it was an unseemly display in the aftermath of a battle, one her Shrine had, no doubt, felt at a loss to understand or explain. For them, surely, it had seemed he shed tears over a great honour.

Never again, not for me, never for me

“Why should I feel happy? Why should I revel? He...he l-”

“He loved you, he never stopped doing it, not for a moment, did his love for you ever waver-” even now it is strong enough for me to feel the motes of that love still upon the kindling of my souls “...love for you made him choose to do what he could to save you, do not stop to believe his love now, do not think he would have chosen this if there was anyway to come back to you alive,” he wished to reach out, to briefly embrace him, pull his head to his shoulder, but he resisted the impulse, for it would be wrong, he was not him and so deserved not to embrace Arathaiel as he had.

“I know that! Do you think I do not know that?!” His words were more venomous than he had intended, most likely, his helm lowered now and his bodly unfolding, the wings on his back responding to his emotions, opening somewhat, before he caught himself, his open arms and splayed legs pulling in again, he honesty of his body language replaced with one of constrained emotion; “But...none of that changes that he is gone and you...” eyes looked at him, briefly afraid.

“No, it does not change that,” he said, allowing his own head to sink in a gesture most would see as a simple gesture of shame, but the perceptive would note carried the connotation of personal-failure-repeated.

“I sometimes...I fear...I think...I think...what if I hate him now?” 

“You do not,” he said without a moment’s pause, the abruptness of it eliciting a snarl from Arathaeil;

“And what do you know of me? You think because you saw his memories and leeched his spirit you-” he caught himself, head falling down to stare at the ground, a gesture of both regret and supplication which made his stomach crawl.

“M-my profuse apolo-”

“I need no memories or wisdom to know your heart, Arathaiel, your feelings are writ so plain and clear that it is plain to all to see that you loved him. I do not need the eyes of a Hawk to know that,” he spoke over his apology, not wanting to even deign it with recognition, face turned now upon the young Arathaiel, as he spoke.

Arathaiel’s armoured fingers clenched in the earth, clawing grooves into the hardened substance, as he struggled to articulate the words of searing pain inside of him; “I hate him so much right now it hurts my heart to speak,”

“And that pain is love, it is the clearest evidence of your love you will ever find for that pain will resonate and carry through with you to the end of existence, dulled perhaps with time, but never gone,” never gone, that pain we carry with us.

“Pain is love? How perverse, surely love is the most exalted of all feelings and it is the loss of it which hurts,” Arathaiel looked up now, eyes opened somewhat wider, as he had passed through the threshold of his initial anger to see instead now with a more open heart.

“Pain and love cannot be separated, they are intertwined, just as intimate as any lovers. It was for love that Isha endured pain, love of her children brought torment at the hands of Khaine. How can these two dominions not be linked?” 

He listened, as the Honoured Father spoke on;

“Pain is the proof of the bond of our love, it lets us know that we wish them for their own sake, without it how would we distinguish our love for them from their utility to us? Your pain here is the evidence of your love for him, as his willingness to endure is the proof of his love for you. Never doubt what you have felt, never doubt that this pain is love, not hate,” a hand moved, a gauntlet clasped into a fist, over the breastplate, the heart, as if seizing it in a grip.

Chu’lian’oc rippled, a part of the world breaking to reveal a maw behind it. They would be gone soon.

“I wish love did not need to hurt so much,” he said, standing now, helm slipping back into place, ready to leave.

“As do I, but, forget not, that to love is to live. Isolation will not hurt as much as love, but it will leave you worse than hurt, worse than dead, it will leave you as nothing,” he remained where he sat, his Fate did not lead him through Chu’lian’oc now, the strands of it converged somewhere else still on this planet for him, a dance who’s steps he learned as he danced, still beckoned him.

Then he was alone, Chu’lian’oc was gone, and his wings gave a groaning, creaking, as he stretched them.

Is it easier? After the first? He had asked Teacher and, as Teacher was want to do, he had lied and said; Yes, every time it grows a little bit easier. You will become accustomed to it.

Nine-thousand nine-hundred and eighty-nine days, and it was no easier than it had been the first time. Every battle he promised; never again, not for me, never for me, and yet battle after battle they proved him wrong, they brought him back.

He carried them all on him now, behind him, stretching, a wall, brick-upon-brick, building up over centuries, over millenia, building into him. Their deaths was a love he could not repay but could not disappoint. 

“Take wing young bird, you are not yet done,”

[kommahana93]

Dragon Memories C1.P2

“Sorry, who doesn’t have raw strength again?” Servass asked sarcastically, “I didn’t hear you the first time.”

“Enough of your stupidity,” Aylin ordered as she straightened and put her hands on her hips. “Kaltrina-Rū, they’re here for Isha, aren’t they?”

“Correct,” Kaltrina answered, looking at their teacher. “They need your help Alexis Göbelázár-Rū.”

“They called for me by name?” Alexis asked, frowning as he moved towards Kaltrina. “no nicknames or insults?”

“The female did,.” Kaltrina replied with a careless shrug. “even mentioned something about ‘Dia-puār”, he moved as Alexis started running, his three students were quick to follow him. Kaltrina sighed as he followed after the team with a leisurely gate. “So reckless,” he sighed as he followed the team down steps of the hill and into the village, it wasn’t a long walk to the center of the village. When he arrived three doctors and Aylin were all standing in a circle around the injured dragons, their palms all facing each other where a bolt of white lightning connected each of them. Their voices were whispering, words to soft and foreign for anyone to make out, and their eyes were glowing a bright pristine white. In the circle was fifteen individuals, each suffering from lethal injuries. Alexis was nearby, propping up a young mage no older than twelve or thirteen, his armor was heavily damaged and he was still crying.

“Please, you have to talk clearly,” Alexis was patting the boy’s shoulder, clearly at a loss with the crying child. “I don’t understand what you’re saying, you’re stuttering too much.” Without warning Servass stooped to the boy’s level, grabbed his shoulder, pulled him back and left a giant red handprint of the teenager’s face. Kaltrina cringed with the echo of the slap, knowing that it must’ve hurt the stone-faced boy more than it did the teenager.

“How dare you!” the teenager blubbered out, fat tears still rolling down his dark cheeks.

“Since when did the honorable Caelestis cry like newborn babes?” Servass questioned. Kaltrina sighed with the blunt question, admittedly he hadn’t noticed that the crying boy was a part of one of the big familys of Azurlyn. From this distance he could only see the boy’s warm rosewood skin, his dragon-helmet was covering the top half of his head and the morning mist prevented any other family-markings to be seen.

“Caelestis-Rū, I need you to calm down and explain your mission to me,” Alexis patted the boy’s shoulder and smiled gently at him.

“We… Nanaibek-Rū asked us to form a team, we-we were to protect Souma Village just on the other side of the mountains.” The boy whipped at his cheeks with his arms, cringing when one of the scales flexed and scraped his chin. “uh-um… Big sister brought me along, she said it would be beneficial to have a teleporter on this kind of mission. I’m not physically strong or very experienced but… I’m the best at the teleportation spells, even compared to my elders. My family head agreed to releasing me on such an important mission and my teacher said it would be good experience for me too. So Nanaibek-Rū allowed me to go on this mission.”

“What were the mission details?” Behruz asked, his eyes were still clued on his female classmate. He wasn’t standing too far away from the purple haired girl, his body posture was relaxed but the serious look in his eyes and the lack of a smile on his face said he was ready to catch her should she feint.

“Um we were to protect Souma Village and if not possible, we were to retreat all residents into our forest.” Caelestis explained, sniffling slight. “however… before we got to the village we were caught in a pincher-attack.”

“A pincher-formation? Between who?” Alexis asked seriously, his face morphing into a strange frown.

“Tregaron and Gehill,” the boy answered. “Big sister had previously sent me and Albena-Rū’s team to head towards Flintlyn Village on our Tregaron-Mountain Boarder to secure a secondary escape route but… halfway there I sensed something wrong.” The boy pulled up a scale on his left wrist, revealing a broken looking golden four-leaf clover. “When I saw this I knew Elder sister was in danger…so I teleported to her location. I arrived just in time to shield her from a three-way scorpion attack. But… she was already heavily injured.” He tucked his scale back down, hiding the golden four-leaf clover perfectly and cradling that wrist close to his heart. “She gave me instructions to teleport all of us to this location for back up but… I can only teleport those who are living.”

There are only ten people here, Kaltrina thought, looking back at the medics in their healing circle. By now the dragons had been separated from their charges and were floating just over their individual mages. Out of everyone in the healing circle, he could only see one female amongst them and even after so much time in the healing circle she still did not look good.

“How many were actually in your team?” Kaltrina asked seriously, he knew his Nanaibek would never send so many people out for one mission; not for something as simple as protecting a village.

“Each of the four Karys have one Praelia, one Proelia and three Proeliator,” Caelestis answered. “As the lowest ranking on the team, I was a part of the last team as a last-minute addition. I was meant to keep record of every step in the journey and provide emergency retreat if need-be.”

“So there were a total of forty-four dragons on this mission,” Alexis murmured. “We’ve never sent out so many dragons for a mission like this.”

“Albena-Rū’s team should be in Flintlyn Village by now,” Caelestis continued. “I still haven’t felt anything different in their auras yet so they must be safe.”

“What do you mean?” Kaltrina asked, frowning at the boy.

“All Caelestis can detect those who are in their same team,” the boy answered. “each of my team members have given me one of their scales for that purpose but… again I can only detect the aura of those living.”

“Who were you to protect?” Servass demanded the answer, his lips tugging slightly down as his eyes pinched into a squint towards the young Caelestis-boy.

“The Kūnnene Family,” Caelestis answered.

“Koon-nai-ne?” Behruz questioned

“Koon-New-ney,” Alexis sighed, his shoulders slumping. “We need to work on your pronunciation.”

“not again!” the boy whined loudly

“Why would you need to protect them?” Servass asked, his frown deepening. “They are the children of mother-earth, they don’t need our aid.”

“Who are the Kūnnene?” Behruz asked

“They’re a family in Tregaron, one of the ancient survivors from before the meteorite,” Servass answered blandly. “They’re incredibly powerful but also seriously underrated. No one takes them seriously because they’re by far too gentle in nature.”

“They’re gentle alright,” Kaltrina scoffed, “Right up till you hurt someone they love. Then you better pray for mercy.” Alexis sighed and stood on his feet, he moved away from the young Caelestis and approached the healing circle. “Alexis? What are you doing?”

“Hey golden-clover! Guess you’re not so lucky now are you?” Alexis asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets and giving the female-dragon a serious look.

“Elder sister’s name is Balam Lalendzela Mayfield!” the Caelestis barked at him, clearly insulted with Alexis’s nickname for the woman. Alexis waved him off as he continued to watch for movement from his friend. The female-dragon coughed wetly, her face scrunching up in pain before one eye cracked open. Smirking to himself, Alexis watched as she struggled to raise a hand in his direction; then he burst out into laughter as she flipped him off.

“Fair, fair,” Alexis chuckled warmly, his sun-kissed face crinkling into an amused smile he usually reserved for his students. “I suppose you want me to take command of this mission?” the woman curled all her fingers loosely, leaving her ring and middle fingers to tap against her thumb twice. “tch, one problem: I’m in charge of three kits. I can’t join you on this mission.” The woman breathed heavily for a moment, as if struggling to remain conscious, then—ever so slowly—she ran all of her fingers across her thumb; pinky to pointer, then the thumb ran gently across from pointer to pinky, and repeated twice over.

“I am not taking them with me,” Alexis hissed. “They’re ten for crying out loud!”

“Two are from ancient households and the third is on par with most Proelia,” Kaltrina countered.

“I said no damn it!” Alexis barked, “They’ve only had two-years of dragon-training! They’re not ready!”

“We can do it,” Behruz smiled in his teacher’s direction. “We have our dragon-armors and we spar with you daily. Aylin even managed to nick one of your scales yesterday! We can work with them!”

“The only problem is that we can’t work together,” Servass countered, crossing his arms and frowning thoughtfully. “They sent forty-four dragons to protect Suomi Village and only eight made it here for emergency treatment. That means that thirty-six of our strongest dragons were killed before they even got to the location.”

“No it doesn’t,” Caelestis corrected quickly, “Elder sister is acting lead, she split each Karys into different directions specifically for this purpose. There was Mayfield-Rū, Albena-Rū, Arabella-Rū, and Sherborne-Rū.”

“Each leader was from a prominent family?” Alexis questioned, is everyone on this team from an honored house? He looked carefully at each team member before him; four Belfour’s, one Silvanus, one Alvarado, one Arabella, one Ethelstone. Wait, he looked back at the Ethelstone. The man’s previously long plum hair was burnt short close to his ears, several other burns were located along his legs and left shoulder. Ethelstones were renowned geniuses, how did their mission fail so brilliantly with one on their team?

“Who else was on your team and where did they go?” Alexis looked back at the young Caelestinus. The boy seemed to cringe under the weight of his eyes; as if he’s never been addressed by a superior without his name being spoken.

“Albena-Rū went straight to Flintlyn Village. Arabella-Rū went to Suomi Village. And Sherborne-Rū went to check up on secure exits back into the forest through the mountains. Elder sister went to check the boarder of Tregaron and meet up with both the border-patrol and another team that needed aid retreating.” Caelestis pointed at the heavily injured people in the healing-circle, one person coughed as he pushed himself up and then stumbled out of the circle. He wasn’t perfectly healed but he was good enough to recover on his own, he didn’t need to be in the emergency healing-circle anymore.

“Praelia Alaverado-Rū?” Alexis called, confused at seeing the young midnight-haired man slump into the quick arms of another person. “Alvisendoa!” Alexis hurried over to his previous classmate, crouching for the man as he was propped up by another villager.

“That’s Alvisendoa-Rū to you, you damn bastard,” the man coughed, squinting pink eyes up at Alexis. “What the hell are you doing in Asharan? You finally get kicked out?”

“I came here to train my students,” Alexis answered, ignoring the insult with practiced ease. “As Nanaibek-Rū instructed me two years ago.”

“Seriously? Since when did you—” Alvisendoa cut himself off, his pink eyes having caught sight of the only children in the village. “you got stuck with some brats alright. Damn, I almost pity you.”

“They’re not as bad as they appear,” Alexis smiled.

“You have no idea who they are do you?”

“Of course I do,” Alexis’s smile didn’t drop. “Behruz Eld, twenty-eighth heir. Servass of Asharan, our most promising someday-Karys. And Aylin Aiello-Sarai.”

“…still an idiot,” Alvisendoa grunted. “I’m impressed the Aiello’s let you take her out of the city. They’re notoriously picky about their dragon-selections. Only one in every five generations, right girl?”

“Correct,” Aylin agreed distractedly, “Now die quietly.”

[tearofisha]

Disquiet Ghosts Of Khaine: 1.

The Death Of Aevytal.

As a boy, I was raised on the legends of Asuryan and Eldanesh. Heroes that fought for what was right and whose sacrifice is carried in the blood of every Aeldari walking the blood-soaked stars today. Naive as I was, I hoped that when my time came to die on the battlefield it would be enough to make the vaunted heroes of my bloodline proud. When my time came as I knew it would, I prayed the stars would remember the name Aevytal. I was a fool for thinking the universe would be so kind.

It was a simple mission in essence. The Exodite planet "Isha'Verdane'inais" or "Isha's Grove" as the locals called it was in the path of an incoming Tyranid fleet and was doomed, so an evacuation of the reluctant farmers was needed. In my ritual guise as a Dire Avenger we rode in a Wave Serpent with half a dozen of the evacuated Exodites and all was going as planned; uneventful as all well thought through plans should. But when the Farseers were reading their runes and making their machinations they did not consider the hot blooded idiocy of humanity.

The soft discontented grumblings of the Exodites was interrupted by a piercing scream of tearing Wraithbone and before any of us knew it, the Wave Serpent was plummeting to the forested earth below. Plasma burned through the hull in scintillating heat and panic consumed the evacuees.

"Brace for impact!" the pilot cried, over the distressing din of alarms and screaming. My Exarch, Thermain T'shallak, placed a hand on my shoulder, I had slain a thousand enemies beside the Priest of Khaine and trusted him like no other. "Be steady, Asuryani" he spoke softly, and so I readied myself for what was to come. One heartbeat later, we crashed into the infamously thick forest floor of Isha's Grove.

I don't know how long I was unconscious for, but when I awoke the burning wreckage of the Wave Serpent was distant and the bodies of its inhabitants neatly dragged clear.  Exarch Thermain stood over them all, the pilot, all the Exodites and three of my squad were among the dead. Only my Exarch, myself and one other were alive. Groggy, I tried to move and was instantly made aware of my broken right arm when the stab of agony coursed through me. There was to be no resistance, this was an evacuation, something was deeply, deeply wrong. As my head reared in pain, I saw what resembled a shooting star in the cloudless nights sky. Not a shooting star, no, a Drop Pod. Not one either, dozens. Isha's mercy, the Space Marines were coming.

"Deathwatch." the Exarch spoke with contempt. Deathwatch, the Imperium's prime xenos hunters. Of course, we were the xenos. In spite of our lineage in the stars and mastery over the universe before humanity crawled out the primordial slime of their world we would stil be hunted by xenophobic children who hated the things that were different to themselves.

"Exarch, we must retreat. The Webway Gate is not so far, we can make it!" the Avenger pleaded to his officer. By way of answer, the Exarch drew his Diresword and silently watched as the largest Pod in the sky drifted towards the earth mere feet away from the wreckage of the Wave Serpent. One second later, the doors exploded off the pod and five towering warriors stepped out. Clad in black, save for their own pauldron's unique heraldry they marched forward with Bolters raised. One removed his helmet, revealing the harsh features of a hardened warrior, the Sergeant it seemed.

"Xenos scum." it spoke to the Exarch Thermain. "We will accept your surrender or you and your men will die"

"There will be no surrender, Mon'keigh." the Exarch spoke flatly, as he took a defensive pose. Shuriken spat forth from his wrist mounted weapon and was joined a moment later by more from the lone survivor. I only wish my arm were fine so I could join the fire, but I was helpless to do so and as yet unseen by the hulking Marines. One of the gigantic warriors let out a choked snarl as he was wounded but the remaining Space Marines made short work of the sole survivor, his body strewn with bolter-shell holes. The Exarch ducked and weaved the explosive shells, his Diresword meeting the neck joint of the wounded Marine, slaying him but instantly he was met with the Power Sword of the Sergeant.

"If you wish to kill me, Marine, you must do it like a true warrior" The Exarch taunted, before saluting with his blade.

A duel began, the Thermain fought like a fencer feinted and used his speed to scratch and poke at the joints of the Sergeant's armour while the Deathwatch warrior resembled a furious blacksmith, heavy powerful blows slung wide never meeting his agile opponent. With the greatest of finesse, the Exarch finally disarmed his opponent and with Diresword angled towards the heart of his enemy he made for the killing blow. The strike that would never come, as the remaining Space Marines emptied their Bolters into the Exarchs body. As if in mockery, the Deathwatch Sergeant recovered his blade and placed the tip through the Exarchs chest, shattering his Spiritstone. Held aloft from the impact of the strike like a banner raised in victory, the soul of the Priest of Khaine fell into the clutches of She Who Thirsts for a fate worse than death.

The injustice was too much for me and through the haze of agony I cried after the killers in my rusty Gothic tongue. "Honour-less bastards, have you no shame?"

I don't know if it was the anger, the fear or the knowledge of what awaited my Exarch but I found my feet and was marching towards the Space Marines, broken arm and all. From my belt, I uncoupled a Plasma Grenade and held it tightly.

"Face me and meet your false Emperor like warriors." that got their attention. Multiple Bolters instantly pointed in my direction but the bravado of an unarmed and wounded man halted them long enough for my ploy.

"Ah, another. Excellent. The Inquisition will be most satisfied we have a toy for the dissection table." the Sergeant scoffed, to a murmur of laughter.

One foot before another, I continued my approach. The warmth of the Plasma Grenade buzzing in the palm of my hand, I readied for my sacrifice.

"Please, I am wounded. I need help, I need a healer, something. Anything. I'll give you information, coordinates. Whatever you want, just help me."

The Sergeant was within striking distance. With all my remaining strength, I swung my arm in an arc aimed for the face of the Deathwatch Sergeant. Time slowed and the faces of my life flashed before me. My mother, my lovers, my friends and shrine brethren I had spent hundreds of years on dozens of paths with. I closed my eyes, and said goodbye. Please, Gods, let this be remembered.

The expected explosion didn't come and in my emotional and painful haze, I didn't see the hand reach to catch mine. The armoured fist of the Sergeant wrapped around my wrist. like he was accosting a child. One effortless flick later and the grenade fell harmlessly from my hand. I cursed, my plan had failed and now I would be a prisoner to the Deathwatch. The Sergeant raised me off the ground by my arm and I dangled unresistant, he looked me like a giant would a delicious morsel, something resembling a smile crossed his scarred lips. Smug bastard.. With the last of my strength, I furiously kicked the Sergeant in the nose and felt the satisfying crack of cartilage beneath my boot. My death will not be without struggle. Blood poured from the broken nose and a snarl of irritation followed. A hard strike from his bolt pistol whipped me through the air and onto my back. My senses screamed, my ears were ringing and I could taste blood, but that was least of my concerns. The Sergeant threw down his pistol and picked me up by the neck. With the life fading from me, I stared into his features. Cold grey eyes were deep set with the many thousand years of life etched into deep wrinkles. The signs of augmentation poked from the skin like rivets and most notably a tattoo of the Imperial Eagle rested on an angular cheekbone. This was to be the face of my killer. He pulled me close, so he whispered almost intimately into my ear.

"When you meet your heathen Gods, Xenos. Tell them Sergeant Arnam Trask sent you to them."

The sword that killed my Exarch exploded through my gut. A cry came unbidden from deep within, my legs flailed and I weakly striked at my killer as the colour drained from my life. With one last gaze at Arnam Trask, everything faded and I knew no more.