# you will never know who I am



## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

You will never know who I AM 

Fifty billion people are here on Rimaris Prime. I have come to find that it is a perfect place to blend in, to hide; a perfect place to hunt… for the perfect prey.

Rimaris Prime is known for its industrial and mining facilities.

Massive towers, platforms and smoke stacks rise from the overpopulated continents creating to the newly arrived masses a depiction that is both awe inspiring and cruelly menacing at the same time.

Exhaust tubes rise from the city block sized engines that run both night and day to provide the energy for the industries to stay efficient in their labor.

The exhaust is directed through an intricately designed system of pipes that rise into the stratosphere to release their poisonous gasses and spew them into low orbit where the gasses, chemicals and acidic nature of industrial byproducts are taken by the solar winds. 

Flashing lights blink along each and every pipe, tower and platform that rise more than twenty stories so as to warn the numerous aircraft, taxis and transportation vessels that ferry back and forth in never ending lines of traffic that snake through the atmosphere, winding this way and that in mostly organized paths. 

The main product produced is fuel, promethium to be exact. Also vast oceans of crude oil are pumped into thousand gallon containers and transported to waiting supply barges where they are stored along with the promethium and replacement parts for failed machinery, pumps and conversion facilities on any one of a million of the Emperor’s worlds.

The oil, fuel and supplies also supply the powerful warships, barges, aircraft and vehicles of the Emperor’s armies. 

Promethium is also used to fill the tanks of flamethrowers and a myriad of other incendiary devices meant for the destruction of the Emperor’s enemies.

Incendiary devices that were used by the Inquisition to “purify” my mother and father, my brother and sisters and the home, combine, tractors and crops that we used to provide for the Emperors warriors that fought for the safety of my home world, Skomma Kommel.

An Inquisitor accused my father of treason. There was no proof. No jury was provided, no lawyer, no witnesses. 

The inquisitor knocked on the door and waited patiently for my father to open it and within two minutes my father, along with all I had ever known was in flames. 

I smelled the burning flesh of my family and I heard their cries, their torment, and their gasps as they struggled for one last searing breath as the flames finally stole their last hope from their scorched blistering lungs.

I was hidden below the floorboards of our home. I had crawled under there, playing a game of hide and seek. My father was going to find me. He never did. I was seven years old. 

That night I crawled out from below the rubble, small flames still flickered from the fields and the smoldering rubble of my home. 

I had nearly suffocated from the smoke and nearly cooked to death from the heat. I was filthy, covered with silt from the flame and dirt from the ground, the ashes of my tormented family.

I was thirsty and suffering from smoke inhalation and shock. I wanted to cry and release my pain but there was no way a child like myself could ever know how to. I could barely remember my name. 

The breeze blew from the east and a light sprinkling of rain fell from the drifting, black clouds. Lightning lit up the night, exposing the charred body of my mother.

I watched the fire from the engines of the Inquisitors shuttle flare bright blue-orange in the night sky and disappear into the storm clouds above. Almost all emotion was lost to me in those moments, all fear, happiness, hope…will to live. 

I didn’t even flinch when a hand, very gently, rested upon my shoulder. It was long and strong but oddly gentle. 

In the flickering firelight I saw the one who would adopt me from that moment on. His name was Drei-Zis; I came to know him as father. 

The firelight reflected off of his intricately designed armor and his almond shaped eyes.

A very sharp sword hung upon his back and a pistol like I had never seen before was held in a holster that was fastened to his leg. Long, jagged blades extended from his elbows and knees, they were gold colored.

He blinked and looked into my eyes. I remember his voice came to me without his mouth uttering a sound. ‘You are mine now.’ 

Through the smoldering rubble he led me to the craft that would take me to my new home, Qwree-Zaa. 



Chapter 2

I remember the first thing I learned... pain. For five long years all I learned was pain. My father taught me what it was to hurt, to scream and to beg.

He taught me what it was to pray for death and not be able to find it; how to scream for help and not receive it. 

My only thought was for death to take me. 

My father cut me with a nerve-blade a thousand times a day every day for two years. With each cut I screamed and bled. 

He stopped my bleeding cuts within only a few seconds because his goal was not for me to bleed to death but for me to experience the life and joy that pain breathed into my soul. 

After two years I had learned that the cuts only strengthened me, I learned how to control the emotions that pain stirs up. 

With pride my father watched me grow and learn. In the fifth year he taught me a new kind of pain. 

Every day for that year my skin was flayed from the muscles of my body. Every inch of my skin was sawed, sliced or pulled from me. The pain was so great I could only hope to scream, but could not voice my torment.

After three hours, my body exposed to the elements and salt-rain, father would stand me up and spray my body with a thin layer of liquid that caused my flesh to grow again as if it was new. 

It felt like fresh fire upon my raw, skinless body until the process was complete. I learned the joy that pain brings and after those five years of the skin having been ripped from my body I had learned to laugh and except the hurt as a blessing. 

Five years had gone by from the time Drei-Zis found me and not a day went by that I did not receive my blessing.

I was now twelve years old. In my sixth year I was thirteen and it was the time to for my father teach me another kindness. 

For one year my bones were broken, crushed, severed, compounded and pulled apart. There is no way to describe how the pleasure felt.

Drugs were given to me to cause my body to feel every last life giving moment. At no time was I allowed to enter shock or pass out. Through the pain my mind was taught to stay sharp and focus. 

At every stage of my father’s inheritance; the cuts, the flayed flesh and the broken bones, teachers would introduce the language, mathematics, history and spirituality of the Dark Eldar. 

They taught me to focus my mind even when the sweetest pleasure ravaged my body. 

My bones were set and reknitted at the end of every day. They were broken afresh every morning. 

For five more years I was taught the art of torture, pain and knowledge. Through these things I learned that it was not because my father hated me that I was permitted to learn these secrets, but because he loved me more that I would ever know. 

My father taught me to be master over my fears, over pain, over the fear of living and the fear of death.

At the age of seven-teen years, Drei-Zis began to teach me how to fight. In a pit I stood alone. The walls glowed and seared the hair from my skin when I came to close. 

Serpents and strange dragons were inscribed in detail along the crest of the pit. I waited for three days, alone.

I learned the beginnings of meditation. My father dropped into the pit with me and beat me to the edge of my life. Each time I fell he would back off until I would rise up again... than beat me until I could not move.

No words were ever said. Food was thrown in to the pit at the end of each day and I would eat as I had never tasted food before. 

Every morning my father would jump down into the pit and beat me until I was near dead. Patiently he would wait for me to stand. 

I learned the art of evasion, learning it was better to avoid the hit than to keep taking the hits. 

Drei-Zis would close the distance and kick me into the wall where I would taste the currents of electricity as it coursed through my bones. 

After a year I had learned to defend against all but the most ferocious of his attacks. I had learned how to counter-strike, fill the gap, set my feet and angle a fierce attack of my own.

After eleven years since the time he had found me I was becoming something much more than I would ever have become. 

The twelfth year was the hardest time in my life that I can remember. My father left me.

Strangers would attack me every day and most of the night. I was allowed one hour to eat and sleep before the attacks would come again.

My bones were broken, my skin flayed and I was cut over and over again by the strangers that attacked me.

I had learned there was no such thing as pain; every hurt was a gift, every torment a pleasure. But I was wrong. Not all pain was a gift. 

Abandonment was not pleasure, nor was it a blessing. 



Chapter 3

As time went on I became fluent in my movements, began to see my attackers before they fell upon me. I began to hurt them before they hurt me.

I would break their bones and sew blessings upon their flesh. The screams of my tormenters had become music to my soul. 

Their blood ran along the hard wood floor and became one with mine as it soaked into the structure below our feet.

I had become more than human, I had become a warrior. I laughed at their unease as they jumped into the pit with me, I could sense their fear. 

For the next four years I was taught weapons, psychological warfare and misdirection. I was now twenty-two standard years old.

Blood had become a way of life. At the age of twenty-four, when my instructors were of no more use to me, I was permitted to leave the pit. 

Drei-Zis greeted me. ‘My son,’ he said. ‘I am well pleased with you. You have grown well. You have learned the ways of pain, fear and loneliness.’ 

I bowed my head in understanding, for now I realized the one that spoke to me was not only my torturer, my teacher or my father, he was my King.

‘You have been trained more thoroughly than all in my kingdom, for I have adopted you as my son and as my son you have received the greatest of training, knowledge, instruction and my love.’ 

His almond shaped eyes were as black as pitch but shone with a light that pierced into my very soul. I could not help but smile as the pride of my father washed over me. 

The years of torture and pain and loneliness now seemed to only have been a dream. He stood from his throne and walked to where I bowed.

For the first time since I was seven years old I felt the gentleness of his touch as he placed his elegant hands upon my shoulders and lifted me up. As he looked into my eyes he said, ‘Now I shall teach you how to hunt!



Chapter 4 

My father taught me to become one with the darkness; to move within the shadows. He taught me how to blend in with any environment and how to end a life quietly, quickly and with the most fluid and graceful of movements.

He taught me how to gather information and knowledge about my enemy, for to know one’s enemy is to anticipate what my enemy will do next. 

My father once said to me that the holocaust that I must ignite in my enemies mind is not one of dramatic loss of life, but a dramatic loss of faith. With the loss of faith in my enemies’ soul, my victory would always be assured.

I learned that as the hunter I must always be watchful and not hesitate when the moment to seize my game was at hand. I loved the hunt like a bird on the breeze loves to fly. 

At first I was unsure of what to do when I had finished the hunt and my prey lay at my feet, the stink of fear upon its quaking frame. 

I laughed as I realized I could do with it all I wanted to. Through my father’s teachings I had become the strongest, the quickest and the smartest in the ways of combat.

Kill teams of the Dark Eldar were sent to take my life, no mercy would be given; no hesitation, the blade of my enemy would not be withdrawn because my father was the King. 

If anything the kill teams were sent to put an end to my life and by doing so the enemies of my father would embarrass him and weaken my father’s position. 

There were five of them and their movements were like the flowing of ink in the darkest of nights, smoke that lingered upon the breeze and disappeared when the currents moved.

In the garden of the damned I waited for the attack that must come. My father had warned me of their coming, his witch had foreseen the blood upon the flowers of the distant sun.

My time had come to be put to use, the blades that had once sculpted my flesh would draw the blood of my enemies. 

In a rush they came, smoke claws and daggers moved with the speed of lightning, faint whistles through the air ever present as their movements sought to unsheathe the bones from my flesh. 

Three steps back and one to the side, I ducked and turned with measured movements and slammed the spider blade of the daggers death into the throat of the one nearest me.

Two steps to the right and a twist to the left, I slid the blood-blessed blade through the ribs of the next. He fell as his lungs filled with blood; he would be dead in the next few moments. 

I raised my gauntleted left arm and deflected the blade of the next and lashed out with a backwards kick into the chest of his brother while moving forward half a step and twisting to the right, toward the face of the fifth.

The one I had kicked rolled and righted himself quickly but not quickly enough to save his battle brother. He melted into the shadows as the screams of his fellow assassin echoed through the garden of the damned. 

Now only two remained and they would not stop until I had met my end.

They moved through the shadows, low to the ground as sharks through shallow water. 

A blade whistled out of the darkest corner and was easily deflected by my shielded left arm. 

I rolled into the tall grasses and twisted into a springed position behind a statue of my father, the King slaying the spider queen of the Flesh Grinders.

There I waited for the briefest of moments, long enough to gather a sense of where my enemy lay. The fangs of the spider were in my hands now, twin blades dripping with venom. 

The shadows exploded around me as the assassins moved upon my position.

They seemed to flow over the statue like a rolling fog, their blades cutting where my head had been only a breath ago. 

Two steps back and one to the right, a twist to the right and behind the first assassin, my blade flashed through his neck, the venom emptying into his body even as the blade blasted through his tender flesh. I left the blade and was gone before the body hit the ground. 

Three steps back and one to the left, a low twist to the right and rolled into the guard of my final enemy. 

His blade sliced along my neck and blood poured out. I smiled as the blood jetted out because the look in my enemies eyes was the look of a helpless soul who knew his time to live was at an end.

As he fell to the ground I turned and melted into the shadows, my spider fang still posted through his skull. 

My father was pleased with me.



Chapter 5

I knew no fear, for it had been bred out of me. My training was near the end.

I was trained in the mountains and in the depths of the oceans of Qwree-Zaa. 

I was taught the hazards of city fighting. I was taught structural points of buildings. I was taught about explosives and how to sew terror into the hearts of my foes.

I was taught how to rip the faith away from those who thought they were better than me. The way of the warrior was destined to me; I was my father’s son. 

As I grew older it seemed the memories of when I was a child at home in my room, the Mon-keigh kneeling beside me as he taught me the prayers to the Emperor, had never been real.

At the age of thirty, I was led into a strange room and made to sit in front of a strange device. 

It was made of crystal and glowed with a green internal light. I placed my eyes in the proper place and saw my past... every detail of what I was as a child before my father had found me in the flames. 

The Eldar Priests stood around me clothed in robes of jade and gold. They wore headdresses of crystal and bore the ancient laws of the Dark Eldar. 

The King, my father, sat on a small throne of jade and alabaster in a setting of gold. 

He watched the proceedings unfold before him. He did not move as the memories of what had happened to my family speared me to my very soul. 

For the first time since the age of seven the reality of what had been stolen from me was shown to me. After a time the light from the memory device faded and the light to my soul was severed.

‘Why have you shown this to me, father?’ I asked. 

My father’s answer took me by surprise. ‘The mission I have for you requires that you remember your language, your childhood and your family. When I found you, I called you mine. I adopted you. I trained you. Now I give you the chance for revenge. 

The one who killed your family must pay for what he has done. The human that did this has no family but the Inquisition. You will find him if you seek them, they are your prey. 

I have given you knowledge. I have trained your body. I have loved you as my father has loved me.’

I stepped forward and smiled. ‘Father, you have honored me. I will find the Inquisition, strike fear into their hearts and cast their faith far from them.’

Drei-Zis, smiled and leaned close to my ear. He spoke so softly that I could barely hear. ‘You are Eldar!’ 

For the first time in my life my father, King of the Dark Eldar race upon the world of Qwree-Zaa had called me Eldar. 

He also gave me a name that I alone know. I have never told anyone my real name and no one will ever know it. It is mine alone. It is as well guarded as my honor, my love and my soul.



Chapter 6

On board the Morning Pride I found my prey. 

The Morning Pride was a transport vessel that carried supplies, food, ore, fuel and nearly one-hundred-thousand passengers from the AGRI-world of Bontious Producious to the Industrial world of Rimaris Prime. 

From there it traveled to the military training world, Stratious. I sat at a table in the observation bay looking out the clear plas-steel wall. 

It was thirty meters long and five meters high and nearly a meter thick and was smooth and clean. 

For as thick as it was it allowed the human eye perfect visibility to the galaxy that was alive with the fires from thousands of star-craft’s engines; their flames burning into the darkness of space like torches in a dark room. 

The stars could be seen thousands of light-years away reflecting their suns glow from hundreds of thousands of light-years beyond them. 

In the reflection cast by the bright lights behind me I saw myself for the first time in twenty-three-years. 

At first the reflection terrified me. When I moved it moved. It seemed so new to me. In the time of my training I had not been permitted to see myself. 

The mon-keigh in the reflection could not be me. It made me sick to think that I looked like the prey I sought. 

I retreated into my cabin to gather my thoughts and pray to the dark gods that had given me the opportunity to seek my revenge.

After the three days spent in darkness and prayer I walked into the cold, cramped hall. 

The noise of the milling masses assaulted me and I fought the erg to strike down any who approached in my direction. 

The very smell of them, their language, and their ever roaming eyes sifting this way or that disgusted me. 

I could not understand why none looked at me with the same intense hatred as I felt for them. But now I understood; I was not Eldar in appearance, but human, mon-keigh. 

When I had first arrived upon the Morning Pride and had seen my appearance in the bay window, the reflection that I had gazed upon terrified me, but now as I peered into a mirror, the thing that I had feared the most; to look like one of them, had left me. 

The reflection of the man that I found myself to be, was dressed in a tight, black suit, trousers, black button up dress shirt; finely intricate markings stitched in deep red weave that ran around my sleeves and along my collar.

My head was also held in deep shadow from the hooded cloak that flowed around me as I moved through the crowded halls like the angel of death made flesh. 

I smiled, for that was exactly what I was. I removed the hood for a brief moment and smiled because as sure as the dark gods live I was nothing like the prey that roamed these halls.

I looked around the observation deck and watched those nearest to me sitting at tables or walking this way and that. 

Some talked among themselves while others sat alone, a drink in their hand seeking to lessen the tension or fear their pitiful existence brought them. It disgusted me to think of living a life so devoid of purpose. 

I also noticed their hair. Nearly every person had hair. Some brown, some black, red or yellow. The array of colors never ended and it was strange to me.

I looked at my hands, than back to the reflection before me. My skin was bald, completely hairless. For a moment I wondered why, and then I remembered that my flesh had been purified by blade and battle. My flesh had become one full body scar.

I smiled as I remembered the pain, the lessons. 

Tattoos covered every part of my exposed flesh in the language of my father. They were blue, black and red. They told the story of my life and of the future set before me. 

I remember the priests that tattooed my flesh suffered great agony when they approached to close, some even died as their psychic connection to the void was severed by the gift that I possessed. 

Again I smiled as I remembered the priests falter before me. They called me ‘Kremok!’ In the tongue of the mon-keigh the word means, empty, lifeless...blank.

He was dressed in finery of gold and blue. Rings set upon his hand and glorious chains hung from his neck. A great sword hung from his side and a pistol of beautiful craftsmanship was holstered at his other hip.

As he neared me he stopped and shook his head, dizzy. I could hear words from the guards around him but could not pull them from the chorus of voices that mingled together from the hundreds of people around.

The man staggered for a moment and as he did so the rosette he wore fell out from his black trench and dangled back and forth in front of me like a piece of meat before a dog.

Hungrily I watched it...the sign of the Inquisition. I did not turn until he was ushered out of the room, then I fallowed him and his escort.

I fallowed him from a distance and slipped through the shadows, through the crowds, through the flocks of helpless sheep. 

At one point he stopped and looked back in my direction. I thought he had seen me, there was no way he could have missed me. Our eyes met but he turned back around and staggered into his room. 

Two guards stood watch outside and three fallowed him inside. I waited in the shadows for half an hour...watching.

Crowds of people walked past me in the cramped hall but none seemed to notice that I stood among them.

Patiently I waited for my opportunity to strike. Finally the moment came, the lights flickered and for the briefest of moments the hall was as dark as the blackest night.

In that moment I ran, pulled the spiders blade from my boot and sliced the throats of the two guards.

Before their hands could move or the blood could flow I had pierced their hearts and cut open their sternums. 

As the blood began to spray from their severed arteries upon the struggling crowds moving through the hall, I had already entered the Inquisitors cabin. Not a drop touched me. 

The lights flickered back on and there before me the Inquisitor lay upon his bed. 

The three guards only had time to look up before I slit their throats.

The Inquisitor fumbled with his pistol as he struggled to pull it free from its holster. The three guards staggered as they registered what had just happened to them. 

I savored their fear for a moment and smiled at their weakness.

From the corner of my eye I saw the Inquisitor pull his pistol free and raise it to align with my head. I moved to my right just as he fired, the powerful blast slammed into the head of one of the struggling guards, vaporizing it in an explosion of skull, brain and blood. 

Before the guard could fall, I lunged forward and severed the Inquisitors hand from his wrist than twisted and struck the gasping guards, splitting their sternums and cutting their hearts in two. 

As they fell to the floor I turned and looked into the face of the Inquisitor. He sat on the end of the bed and was staring at the bleeding stump of his arm.

Shock from the wound hid the pain but could not hide the surprise. 

His body convulsed lightly as I approached him, his psychic connection severed by my gift. The pistol laid upon the floor along side his lifeless hand.

He looked at me, sickened, confusion in his eyes and asked me, 'Why?'

Looking down at him I smiled, ‘Because it is the will of my father.’

‘Who are you?’ He asked. His eyes were wide as he looked into my face. 

I could tell he was trying to figure out who I was... looking for some sign of recognition. 

Looking into his dark brown eyes I answered. ‘You will never know who I am.’

The lights flickered again, momentarily steeping the room in darkness. When the light returned, the only things left in the room were the bodies of the guards and the dismembered body of the dieing Inquisitor. 

As I blended once again with the shadows of the hall and made my way back to the observation deck I smiled as the screams of the weak found their way to my tattooed ears.


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## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*you will never know who I am part 2*

Chapter 7

Two more days passed.

I sat in the observation bay watching the people as they passed by. They moved like ants in lines, some talking and others just seeking a mate for the night.

I listened to the conversations and the endless drone of orators as they tried to shout over the din of voices. They babbled on and on about the Emperor and his love for the lost.

I sneered at their blind devotion. 

Finally the announcement came from the speakers hidden in the ceiling. 

I looked out the observation window and caught my first sight of Rimaris Prime and my breath was taken away for a moment at the beauty that lay before me. It was like nothing that I had ever seen before. 

There were two massive continents and three major bodies of water, oceans with thousands of islands that rose from the blue like the backs of living dragons. 

Some of the Islands had mountains that rose almost to the stars it seemed. Ice formed at their peaks and reflected the light of the sun. 

At their base were vast areas of unexplored jungle that extended nearly to the waters edge. Others were desert and seemed lifeless to me. 

The continents were covered in lights that twinkled and moved. As we anchored in low orbit I watched shuttles ascend and descend from the many vessels that had come to rest beside us. It was time for me to go. 

The shuttle landed on a pad that was set between two seventy story buildings, the lights from the pad blinked red-blue on-off every three seconds casting the pad and the surrounding buildings in shadows and lights like the flickering flames of a torch half hidden. 

Three thousand people, families mostly with their children were in the shuttle along with me. I became nervous. I felt closed in and cramped...too many people bumping me in their attempt to exit the craft. 

I waited as patiently as I could until it was my turn to exit. The air was salty and felt dirty from the industrial buildings and machinery that polluted the continent. 

Armed soldiers from the Planetary Defense Forces were watching each person as they exited the craft, among them an Inquisitor cast his eyes accusingly upon all who walked past. 

The hood from my robe covered my face with its shadow. I walked as casually as I could but the Inquisitor noticed me anyway. ‘You, come here!’ He growled. 

I looked at his pointed finger and longed to cut it from his jeweled, old, pale hand. His face was lightly scared and his eyes were cold and blue. He wore light armor that was a dull black, non-reflective.

High boots engraved with the oaths of purification armored his feet and his breeches were padded and lightly armored as well. There was a respirator over his mouth, fastened to his face by conduit that snaked into a small pack that sat upon his back. 

I refused to be cowed by him and allowed my eyes to make contact with his as I turned to obey his command. 

The PDF troops closed around me as I approached. ‘There was a murder upon the Morning Pride.’ He said accusingly. ‘What do you know of it?’ he growled as menacingly as possible.

I looked into the faces of the PDF troops and watched their uneasiness.

‘You will look at me when I speak to you and you will answer me when I ask you a question!’ he shouted at me. He stepped forward and punched me in the face. My nose broke and tears welled in my eyes and ran down my cheeks because of the blow. 

I made no sound and held my response for a moment. The crowds of newly arrived refugees that had seen what had happened stopped in shock and began to watch. They were clearly not used to this kind of behavior. It was not what they were expecting from their new home.

I could feel their fear. Their shock. 

I pulled the hood from my head and revealed the tattoos that covered my scalp. The Inquisitor tried to read them as the light from the lamps revealed them.

I watched his eyes as recognition slammed home. His hand slid to his las-gun, the fingers grasping the handle. I smiled and lunged forward and head-butted him in the face between the eyes. He staggered back from the blow and I pulled the spider’s fangs from my robe. 

As his hand rose, his las-gun fired, I sidestepped to the right. The round he had fired took one of the PDF in the chest and he collapsed to the ground, his chest smoking from the flame that smoldered from the wound.

Two steps back, one to the right, I twisted to the left and spun my blade. I severed the hand from his wrist and it fell away. 

The Inquisitor yelled in shock and anger as he tried to back away from me.

One step forward and one to the side, I turned and with an upward stroke I decapitated the man.

From a pouch on my thigh I pulled four sharp daggers and threw them into the faces of the soldiers. The venom acted so quickly they were dead before they fell to the ground. 

The crowds began to scream as they made to escape. Blood flowed from the Inquisitors severances and mingled with the rain that had begun to fall. 

Casually, I knelt and retrieved the daggers before I left the scene. 

The crowds parted as I walked away into the shadows of the night. Sirens began to wail as word passed and I watched from the shadows as the city came alive with the shouts of soldiers, the accusations of Inquisitors and the fear of the helpless masses. 

Drei-Zis, King of the Dark Eldar smiled as his armada of cloaked ships neared the territory of the mon-keigh. 



Chapter 8

Inquisitor Rimail Floitra walked through the cabin that Inquisitor Bolla Cua and his guards had been killed in. 

He was alone in the room and spoke out loud into a recorder and took picts from the camera that was placed in his retina. He had checked for finger prints and had not found any. He wasn’t surprised, this was a professional, and of this he was sure. 

There was blood everywhere and body parts covered the bed. He grabbed the bloody, bloated head of the former Inquisitor and pulled an eye from its socket. 

From the eye he used a set of tweezers to pull a small red wire. He hooked the wire to a small device that projected a soft white light. The light flickered and was replaced by the last five minutes of what the Inquisitor had seen before his death. The room swung back and forth revealing the guards as they stood immobile before him. 

The view stopped moving as the inquisitor stopped moving his head. The view showed the guards and one nodded. He was clearly concerned for his master. 

The lights flickered. Darkness for only a moment blanked out the view. When the light had come on again the view showed the guards reaching for their throats and there in the midst of them was a man that moved like shadowed lightning.

With a flash of movement the assassin spun. The view shifted as the inquisitor looked at his bloody stump. Rimail watched the projection, grimly.

The Inquisitor had looked into the face of his killer. The killer had said something than the image spun as the head rolled across the bed. The image faded into blackness. 

Rimail snapped a Pict of the face of the assassin before he called in his assistant. The psyker stepped into the room. 

‘What do you see and feel?’ Rimail asked Pietry. 

Pietry walked around the room. ‘I see the murder, but I can feel nothing of the presence of the murderer. He does not exist. He is a void.'

The Inquisitor shook his head as he put the story together. He read the tattoos that were upon the forehead of the murderer and swore. He spoke into his recorder, ‘An assassin; human mail, tall and covered in the tattoos of the Dark Eldar. He is a blank.’ He turned and strode from the cabin and made his way to his personal shuttle-craft. 

Once there he downloaded the information he had received and sent it to all the land based Inquisitors. 



Chapter 9

There were three of them. Three Inquisitors that conducted investigations and interrogated the witnesses that had stayed long enough to be of any use.

Heads were shaking and voices were raised as the witnesses told what they had seen. The people were clearly afraid. 

After two hours the Inquisitors separated with their entourages. I watched them go, one to the south, one to the north and one in my direction to the east. The choice was clear.

The rain was falling harder now, vision was blurred and the shadows grew darker still. The stage was set. The hunt was perfect and I smiled as the Inquisition passed by me. 

I fallowed from a safe distance, blending in with the crowds. My mission was nearly complete; the eyes of the Inquisition would be blinded by their fear.

Sirens still sounded and PDF troops ran the streets. Curfew was announced and people were forced to their homes or workstations. Some resisted and suffered the consequences of their rebellion. 

Their anger turned to fear as the soldiers fired into their midst. 

Staying in the shadows I fallowed the Inquisitors. They took a staircase that led into a basement, opened a door and entered.

I fallowed and entered as well. The noise of machinery along with the smells of burnt rubber, oil and soldering were strong. Welders sent arcs of light into the dimness and grinders created a din of noise along with great showers of sparks that flew twenty meters in the opposite direction of their spinning grind wheels.

Canisters of argon, nitrogen and oxygen along with acetylene were set in portable cages that were strewn around the room. They provided gas to the men and women as they worked to create whatever was demanded of them.

The light was at best dim and the flashes from the strobing arcs caused me to guard my eyes for a couple of seconds. An especially bright ark of red light blinded me for a moment and I struggled to blink the after images away.

By the time I had done so the Inquisitors were gone. Rather that continue to try to fallow them I turned and backed again outside. The shadows were my home and I didn’t want to be led into a trap. 

As I exited the building a shot echoed through the streets and the round nearly took my head off. I ducked and ran up the stairs and into an alley where I could blend into the shadows. 

Someone shouted and more shots were fired. I pulled a long barreled weapon from the holster on my thigh and fired it as I turned another corner. 

Someone cried out as the small metal shards flew threw his body taking chunks of flesh with them.

A brick disappeared as a round from a sniper slammed into it. A figure of a man rounded the corner in front of me and I fired into his chest. He fell in a spray of blood.

A shot from behind slammed into my side. It broke a rib then exited through the front of my body and struck another man as he stepped into my path.

The shot hit him in the groin and he collapsed with a gasp of pain. I took the pain as a lesson and continued to run.

From a pouch I pulled a small spherical object and punched the button. I tossed it into a window and turned the corner. I ran now as fast as I could to the south for three minutes.

I knew those chasing me would be cautious as they approached the corner. I stopped running and looked behind me. No one fallowed, but I could hear shouts of instruction as the Inquisition searched the streets and alleys. 

The object I had thrown into the window exploded. For a moment nothing seemed to happen. The alley was quiet for a a time... then the shouting began anew. 

I smiled and walked away as the building began to crumble. It rocked back and forth and than collapsed against the building next to it. Great clouds of dust billowed forth, blotting out the lights and mingling with the rain. 

Blood from the wound I had received ran down the right side of my lower back and down my leg, but I was not worried. I had received much greater wounds as a child at the hands of my greatest teacher; my father.



Chapter 10

Inquisitor Rimail Floitra walked around the collapsed building. His anger was palpable. 

The night had not gone well for him. He was still trying to sort out the destruction of the Morning Pride and nearly the one hundred thousand civilians, soldiers and medicae that had died on board. 

Shortly after he had left the Transport vessel, discretely placed explosives began to detonate throughout the ship. Each one blasted a hole through the thick plating of the ship, spilling oxygen, debris and bodies into open space.

The explosives were timed to go off one every two minutes from stem to stern. There was no escape and most had time enough to scream and writhe in terror as their last thoughts were of their lives blinking out in helpless torment. 

The sunshine of the morning revealed the destruction. 

The Captain of the PDF stood across from him, arms folded across his black, lightly armored chest. His helmet bore the symbols of his rank as did the shoulder of his jacket. ‘You expect me to believe that only one man could do something like this?’ The man said. He was angry but knew better than to provoke an angry Inquisitor.

‘Yes, that is exactly what I expect you to believe.’ Rimail said; his voice controlled and dark.

‘We will find him and make him pay for what he has done!” the PDF Captain responded.

The Inquisitor looked around at the destruction then back at the Captain. ‘Are you sure you want to find a single man that can destroy a transport ship, kill four Inquisitors, destroy a city block and evade detection from our greatest psykers?’ Rimail asked.

‘On the other hand, the one who did this is tall, covered in a cloak and scripted tattoos. He is carrying weapons and forming a trail that even a blind grox could find.’ 

He looked into the captains eyes and leaned in close. ‘He should not be the hardest person on this continent to find. I am very disappointed that he is not begging for mercy at my feet at this very moment.’

He leaned in closer. ‘Why have we not found him, hmm?’ 

The captain tried not to flinch but could not stand before the Inquisitors gaze. ‘I don’t know, sir.’ He said. 

Rimail stood up strait and walked away. As he left he said, ‘The reason he is not here is obvious, captain. He is not here because he is somewhere else!’ 



Chapter 11

‘The eyes of the Inquisition are turned inward, just as you have prophesied, my King.’ Drei-Zis smiled. His plan was nearly complete and he laughed at the deceit he had wrought. 

The mon-keigh believed he was Dark Eldar. He believed he was excepted and loved. He had become blinded by the teachings that he had received. His lust for revenge was great, but his desire to please his Dark Eldar father was even greater.

He would die along with all the mon-keigh on this diseased planet. 

Already the mighty armada, the flag-ship destroyer, twelve mighty leviathans and a massive battle cruiser had mingled with the Imperial transports, barges and battleships that rested in their docks or anchored in high orbit in their futile attempt to guard their world.

The mon-keigh had settled upon the planet nearly three thousand years ago not knowing that it was the territories of the Dark Eldar.

Now the Eldar would take back what the mon-keigh had stolen. ‘What of your son, my King?’ the priest asked 

‘I have no son, Bulkha-Dris. The mon-keigh is only a tool that I crafted to do a job and it is doing its part perfectly.’ He said. ‘Frett-Gul, commence your attack.’ 

The Dark Eldar battleships emerged from their cloaks and fired in unison upon the Imperial vessels. 

Dark matter beams and giant shards of glowing metal burst from cannons and crossed the vast expanse of space. There was no warning and the Imperials star-ships were cut to pieces. 

Flames from explosions vented into space fed by the oxygen that escaped. Bodies were pulled into space, instantly frozen and burned by the coldness of the void and the radiation from the suns rays.

Battleships were cut in two and drifted into the planets gravity where they were pulled into the daylight for all the inhabitants of the world to see.

Smoke trailed the fragments that fell like meteors through the atmosphere.

Those on the ground began to scream and try to flee for their lives even as the fragments slammed through city buildings, vaporizing them in great balls of flame and dust. 

An entire supply-barge fell through the atmosphere and crashed into one of the oceans. Nearly twenty kilometers of iron, steel and plas-steel hit the water causing a tsunami of mountain sized waves to cover most of the islands that populated the water-body.

The Dark Eldar ships fired broadsides at close range into the planetary defenses. The fires of burning ships could be seen from the ground even through the daylight. 

I watched from a balcony on the thirtieth floor of an apartment building and smiled. In the distance I could see the effects of dark matter weapons as their powerful energy was released upon Rimaris Prime. Most of the city I was in disappeared in a flash of darkness and the cloak that surrounded me billowed from the fallout winds. 

I pulled a small beacon from the pouch on my chest and activated it. It began to glow and pulsate with a dark blue light. Now I sat upon a chair and waited for my father to come and deliver me from the judgment being poured out. 

‘I have the echoes of a beacon, Inquisitor,’ Pietry said. 

Inquisitor Rimail Floitra stood in the street between two buildings. His cloak billowed in the wind and his body shook from the adrenalin of a near death experience.

His eyes were shut and he tentatively opened them and looked around.

Four meters in front of him the city ended. It was gone as if it had never been there. The two buildings that stood beside him rocked slowly back and forth. They still stood their full height but they were open and exposed to the elements. 

People screamed as they fell from the sheared building faces. Their cries came to a halt as their bodies slammed into the ground all around the Inquisitor. 

He answered the servitor via vox-com. ‘At this very moment, it doesn’t seem to matter. We are leaving.’ He turned and walked away. 

A short time later he and his entourage were on board his personal shuttle and dodging the debris that still fell from the heavens above. ‘What of the beacon, Pietry?’ he asked.

‘It still sends its call.’ The psyker replied, his voice straining from all the destruction effecting his gifting.

‘Head for the transmission, I want to have at least a little solace for the trouble.’ 

The shuttle veered to the north and approached a tall apartment building. The signal was stronger here. ‘I see someone on the balcony on the thirtieth floor. It is also where the beacon is coming from.’ The pilot servitor said. 

The Inquisitor looked out the porthole and nodded. ‘Go.’ He said. 

Standing in the doorway of his shuttle he waited for it to stop its movement and hover alongside the balcony where the man in the cloak sat. 

The door opened and the Inquisitor stepped out onto the shuttle wing. The man on the balcony sat, arms wrapped around his chest, defiant.

‘I am Inquisitor Rimail Floitra. You are the reason for this.’ He said. It was not a question.	

I watched the shuttle hovering alongside of me. I had been watching it as it approached my position. I didn’t move, there was no longer any place for me to go. 

The Inquisitor stood on the wing and told me who he was. Just as the other Inquisitor had done to my father when I was a child...this Inquisitor accused me without any proof.

‘My mission is to do my father’s will. It has been accomplished.’ I yelled over the sound of the shuttle’s engines and the din of destruction all around. ‘As for this, it is not my doing. It is the will of my father.’ 

The Inquisitor sneered at that, his pride was without bounds. ‘Before I send your soul to the warp, I would ask the name of my enemy?’ He leaned forward to hear my reply. 

Slowly, deliberately I stood and made eye contact with him before I pulled the spider’s blade from my cloak and cast it into his chest. 

In shock he fell to his knees. Blood ran through his fingers. He looked up in surprise, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to take in a last fleeting breath. 

I began to laugh as I watched his torment. Finally I answered him.

‘You will never know who I am.’ 

As he fell from the wing I smiled knowing my end was near. The shuttle rocked as it fired its weapons. 

As I lay there upon the balcony drenched in my own blood I smiled as darkness overtook me.[/SIZE]


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## warsmith7752 (Sep 12, 2009)

Argh my poor eyes! It's difficult to read the writing when it's black on a black background. I you want a different colour to normal try something a bit lighter. Although before I gave up I was intrigued by the first sentence.


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## Baron Spikey (Mar 26, 2008)

Part 1 & 2 both need the font colour changing back to forum default as well as the piece broken up into easy to read sentences and paragraphs.

As of now you've got bugger all hope of someone reading them and/or giving you constructive advice.

Edit: Never mind about the font then


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## Commissar Ploss (Feb 29, 2008)

you really have to pay attention to what you are doing mate. be sure to preview your posts before you actually hit submit. The text was black and all in one block. Make sure you are more careful. I took the liberty of breaking up your story for you into actually readable paragraphs. cheers

Commissar Ploss


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## Commissar Ploss (Feb 29, 2008)

I've taken care of part 2. now to get part 1 fixed...

CP


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## Todeswind (Mar 2, 2010)

God god m8... put a space in for the love of god... I get doing it once but *four* times?


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## Commissar Ploss (Feb 29, 2008)

wtf? i just fixed this one? why is it back the way it was?


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## Commissar Ploss (Feb 29, 2008)

yes i did like it.  Just be sure next time to break it down into paragraphs, ok? That will make it easier on everyone. cheers. Be sure to post more soon.

CP


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## The_Inquisitor (Jul 19, 2008)

Adrian said:


> commissar ploss. thanks for reading it. I am not an editor (guess you can tell.) I want to be a writer not an editor.Other than the lack of spaces and type-o's, did you like the story? Did you want more?


It's a writer's responsibility to structure his/her work, structure being as important as grammar and punctuation. You can also use the structure of a piece to your advantage, paragraphs can be very useful as a dramatic mechanism, cliffhangers etc. 

It is NOT an editor's job to do what you should have done in the first place. Sadly I can't bring myself to read your pieces yet due to the aforementioned structure (or lack there of). Hope this helps. 

L.


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## FORTHELION (Nov 21, 2009)

Wll thats not very constructive or helpful inquisitor.
Sounds more like you consider yourself too good to read it.
Very condecending if you ask me.


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## Vast (Oct 26, 2010)

As this is formatted properly, I’ll check this first, then read your experiments part 2 later.  


First paragraph is a nice intro. The first person context is introduced really nicely, though 
I can’t help but think “a perfect place to hunt... for the perfect prey.” would have added a bit more atmosphere to the sentence. Using alliteration made the two “perfects” sound good, but a pause makes it seem all the more sinister and interesting to the reader (in my opinion.) The break between sentences three and four could probably have been dropped; 

Rimaris Prime is known for it’s industrial and mining facilities. ->
this could have gone into a list format with a colon or a semi-colon (I can’t remember which should be used, sorry!) or a hyphen, so...

industrial and mining facilities - massive towers, platforms, and smoke stacks rise from the .. 

Like that it seems to draw you into the atmosphere of the place more. The detail in the following sentence is light, but good. You mention labour - what labour? What is the main produce of Rimaris Prime? I don’t say that question because I think you should have included it - it works to make the reader ask questions, want to know more. More importantly, how much does the character know? The first paragraph makes him seem fairly intelligent. Good job so far. 

_The exhaust is directed through an intricately designed system of pipes that rise into the stratosphere to release their poisonous gasses and dispel them into low orbit where the gasses, chemicals and acidic nature of industrial byproducts are taken by the solar winds._

This sentence seemed a little too convoluted. It may have flowed better if you’d simply said that the exhaust was sent through the pipes, into the stratosphere, and ejected. “Eject” would have been a better choice of word than “dispel”, in my opinion. What bugged me about that sentence was “gasses, chemicals, and acidic nature of industrial byproducts.” While gasses and chemicals are objects and hence, could be “dispelled” from the pipes, acidic nature isn’t. I’m not sure if you meant to say acids, or to describe the industrial byproduct as acidic. Either way this seems more like grammar confusion than bad writing.  


The second paragraph is, at first glance, a big list, but it actually works. When you think about it, the purpose you stated the materials are being used for requires a large scale operation, and by listing as you did you managed to get across a sense of that scale. If you can, try to refine your grammar so it’s easier for the reader.

I love the way the paragraph twists to lead into the next one. You can sense the character’s emotions without needing to reference them, if nothing more because of great use of the word “Purify.” It has a lot more power than something as mundane as “burn”, so great job there. 


_“home, combine, tractors, and crops that provided for the Emporer’s warriors..”_

sounds better than including “we worked”, Perhaps that’s just personal preference though. 

The third paragraph is pretty much perfect. The short sentences are poignant and well used, and the entire paragraph is probably the most powerful one in the piece of writing as a whole. 

Next paragraph, nice introduction of a new character, not too much information, leaving the reader wanting to know more. 

The description of his training worked pretty well and aside from slight gramatical flaws here and there, no real problems. Perhaps you might want to try including single words at certain points for a first person, powerful perspective of what the character feels. Italics help to emphasize these, for example;

_Pain
Rage
Sadness_

They probably wouldn’t be an effective tool here, but in a different piece of work you may want to have a go at using words like those to start sentences and lead the reader in. Just an idea 

I wrote considerably more “stuff” for your opening paragraphs than your later ones, but that’s because the later ones blend into each other far more - in context, his training, this is good writing. 

_He also gave me a name that I alone know. I have never told anyone my real name and no one will ever know it. It is mine alone. It is as well guarded as my honor, my love and my soul._

Shortening the second sentence to “I have never told anyone my real name. It is mine...” would make this section more powerful in my opinion. 

Your descriptive stuff seems really great, i’d just advise you to focus on improving things like grammar to make pieces of writing flow together better. This is definitely a better read than your Experiments story. Nice one 

Edit: May I suggest having one thread for a story, rather than putting the different parts in different threads?


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## The_Inquisitor (Jul 19, 2008)

FORTHELION said:


> Wll thats not very constructive or helpful inquisitor.
> Sounds more like you consider yourself too good to read it.
> Very condecending if you ask me.


I would have thought advice on the importance of structure to an aspiring author would be considered constructive. Because it _is_ important. 

Too good to read it? I don't know about you, but I read for enjoyment, a pass-time. Considering oneself "too good" would be very self-defeating, don't you think. 

L.


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## Viscount Vash (Jan 3, 2007)

I have taken the liberty of changing the text size and breaking the megabloc of text.


I suggest that you avoid over editing in whatever it is you are using offsite.

Just write a paragraph and hit return a couple of times. Do not try to use indents, tabs or other such devices as they are not transferable to the code that the forum uses. Also avoid fonts although Verdana is the standard one on the boards.

Let us know what you are using to edit your posts offline as that may help us help you. 

Sorry I'm not a fiction/fluff person so I will leave the critique of the actual content to the better qualified.


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## Commissar Ploss (Feb 29, 2008)

threads merged. per user's request.

CP


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## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*Hello*

Most of these threads are old, but every one of them helped me learn a little bit more.


Adrian


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