# The Court of the Young King



## Santaire (Feb 13, 2011)

*The Court of the Young King*​ 
Farseer Venificus walked into the room where the Court of the Young King was sat. He cleared his throat to gain there attention and there eyes were immediately fixed on him. Laconfir Bladeweave broke the silence. “What is it Farseer.” Venificus nodded and, staying on his feet, said “I have consulted the runes and they tell me that you will begin the reclaiming of Orbis but you will do so without the Avatar. They tell me that the greatest of you will be chosen to awaken the living embodiment of Kaela Mensha Khaine.” This was greeted with a few moments of stunned silence which was broken by Draconir of the Fire Dragons “Why is that so Farseer, why do we fight without the help of the Avatar?” Venificus held up a hand to silent the hot headed Fire Dragon and when all was quiet he continued. “The truth is that, for some reason, the Avatar is not ready to be awakened. I have approached it and it does not show any signs of the usual activity it displays when we approach a world where it will be needed. Khaine must not have chosen a warrior to awaken his Avatar and there are still worse things.” The Shining Spear Exarch raised an eyebrow and spoke, saying “There’s worse?”

Venificus nodded silently and Taenion of the Howling Banshees looked at him curiously. Foreths Sunjumper, an old pupil of Laconfir, turned his head to look at Venificus properly and Cirdeorn stood up from where he had been leaning against the wall. Even Draconir moved to gaze at the Farseer. Only Laconfir and Anepou of the Dark Reapers did not seem to be affected. “I have seen Chaos Marines and Demons in my visions and the Runes are hinting that the Chaos worshippers are there for a greater purpose than to kill the Exodites.” Venificus moved to one side and sat, observing the Exarchs.

All: You are sitting/standing in a large room with a wraithbone table in the middle.What are your thoughts on the Farseer's message. I am letting you create some NPC's. You can name the two Exarchs who are not being played by Roleplayers or maybe you could have your old Aspect Warrior squad enter the room. It is up to you. Do any of you want to ask the Farseer any questions? If so, PM me and I will give you the answers.

Laconfir: What are your thoughts on the other members of the court. What do you think of the newcomers. Are you pleased to see your old pupil has joined the Court

Draconir: What are your thoughts on the other members of the court. What do you think of the newcomers. Are you pleased to see your old friend Anepou.

Anepou: What are your thoughts on the other members of the court. What do you think of the newcomers. Are you pleased to see your old friend Draconir.

Foreths: What are your thoughts on the other members of the court. What do you think about the older warriors and the younger ones. You have spotted your old teacher Laconfir, do you go and talk to him?

Taenion: What are your thoughts on the other members of the court. What do you think about the older warriors. You have spotted an Exarch of the Striking Scorpions who you have a rivalry with. Do you go and talk to him?

Cirdeorn: What are your thoughts on the other members of the court. What do you think about the older warriors. You have spotted a Howling Banshee Exarch that has a rivalry with your temple. What do you think of this rivalry?


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## Jackinator (Nov 18, 2008)

*Laconfir*

Laconfir glanced about the court, the others seemed alarmed at this news, only he and the Dark Reaper had remained unmoved. Both of them had been members of the court for thousands of years but even so he could only recall the court going to war on two separate occasions without the King having been chosen. Their purpose was to guide and protect the King until the Avatar was ready, and if not then they normally returned to their temples. To be deployed as a unit spoke of some great danger to the exodite world, something greater than that hinted at by the prescence of Chaos Marines. But this was also the Court at it's most powerful, even the fresh Exarch's were impressive warriors. Foreths in particular, although not particularly new to the Court Laconfir still looked upon him in a fatherly manner, his student who had since gone on to become the Exarch of the Shrine of the Warp Spiders. he was a swift and deadly warrior by all accounts.


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## Lord Ramo (Apr 12, 2009)

Foreths listened to the briefing by the farseer as he and the other members of the court sat and stood waiting for their King to be chosen. It was a shock to go into battle without the avatar being awakened, ready to fight. Foreths had been in the court a while now, and he had never been to war with it as a unit without having to protect the young King. Something seemed off to him, though he was happy to go to war once more.

The maiden worlds were the most important thing in restoring the Eldar empire to its former glory once more, and the fact that orks and Chaos defiled the world sent waves of anger through Foreths body. He stood, looking at his fellow court members. He knew that they could all be relied upon, they were the deadliest of their aspects. Foreths moved around pacing angrily as he thought. He wanted to attack now, though he knew perils faced him that none of the others could think off. With the added attention of chaos on the planet, it would be harder for him to jump through the warp without arousing the pantheons attention.

The others knew nothing of bravery until they had experienced what he experienced whenever he went to war. He stopped before saying out loud to the rest of the Court. *"So the Avatar doesn't fight with us and we have the attention of Chaos. Not ideal but we can overcome this, we have to for the craftworld."* He moved over to his closest ally in the room, the wisest and most experienced, Laconfir. He had been a student of him, and regarded him above all to be the greatest eldar warrior he had ever fought alongside. "*Laconfir, it is an honor to once again fight by your side. We are sure to be successful with you guiding us once more."*


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## Jackinator (Nov 18, 2008)

"Laconfir, it is an honor to once again fight by your side. We are sure to be successful with you guiding us once more."

Laconfir smiled and nodded to his old pupil, "it is an honour to fight alongside you Foreths, but it is our position as the Court to guide the Swordwind together, I am no leader here, we are all equal." He looked around the room, "we all hold positions of war within the craftworld and we all have our views, each aspect is created to dominate in their area of combat, should any one of us become a dictator within the Swordwind then it could lead to disaster." He smiled softly, "even balanced as my aspect is reputed to be, I am still an Exarch, and lost to my way of war. It is the same for all of us."


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## AstroCity (May 27, 2011)

Taenion remained seated at the decorated table, seemingly emotionless. In reality, her mind was a rushing stream of random thoughts. _How could they go to war without the Avatar of Khaine? ...destruction awaits._ She was deeply troubled that there was even worse news to come as well. Clearly everyone was distressed, but very few showed obvious signals.

Maintaining her composure, Taenion rose and stepped into the shade where her favoured student, Lessinia, had just revealed herself; of course Lessinia wasn't permitted entrance to the formal meeting. Both of the Eldar were slightly frustrated by this exclusion, but it is something Taenion had decided not to dispute with Farseer Venificus. He's a proven leader and inspiration, therefore they all trust his every decision.

Whilst Lessinia updated Taenion with the latest news from her Banshees, the Exarch maintained a close eye upon Cirdeorn, looking for any sign of reaction to the disturbing news they had received. If this information effected the Scorpion's performance on the battlefield then Taenion would surely excel and demonstrate her prowess. _How remarkable it would be if I was honoured with being the chosen embodiment for the Avatar, at such a young age._


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## Serpion5 (Mar 19, 2010)

*Draconir*

'Hmph.' Draconir tightened his grip on the sword planted at his feet. It irked him whenever he was dismissed so casually, but in the end who was he to question the old seer? 

Instead he took a few looks around at the other members of the court. Evidently Foreths had met Laconfir before and the two were well known. It was no surprise to the dragon that Laconfir would have a student or two among the council, the old warior was one of the finest the craftworld had ever seen and Draconir was not so typical of his temple as to challenge that. 

Draconir also noticed Anepou positioned at the table. The Reaper Exarch was an old friend of the Fire Dragon, and Draconir`s diciples had been thankful for his reaper`s cover fire on many battlefields. Likewise many artilleries that would have spelt doom for the reapers had been destroyed by the fire of Draconir`s warriors. 

'Without Khaine, the pressure will increase on the rest of us.' Draconir spoke. 'I have no fear however. After all, none have yet succeeded in vanquishing the Swordwind, and I`ll be damned if we let it happen now.' He looked around at the others. His gaze rested on the reaper, and he shot Anepou a sharp grin.

'After all, we have Anepou with us!' Draconir joked.


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## Akatsuki13 (May 9, 2010)

“I have consulted the runes and they tell me that you will begin the reclaiming of Orbis but you will do so without the Avatar. They tell me that the greatest of you will be chosen to awaken the living embodiment of Kaela Mensha Khaine.”

Nearly the entire Court reacted with shock as the Farseer’s words; Cirdeorn was no exception, almost flinching in alarm. But the stoic warrior swiftly quelled the surprise he felt within his breast and returned to his impassive stance, standing apart from his fellows. It was unusual to go to war without the Avatar of the Bloody-handed God but it was their duty above all others to defend the Maiden worlds from any and all who sought to defile them. If they were asked to do so without Kaela Mensha Khaine then they would do so willingly.

Cirdeorn’s eyes were drawn to his fellow Exarchs as they began to discuss matters. Most of them he nothing of, save for the Banshee and Laconfir. In his brief century as a Dire Avenger, Cirdeorn had seen the ancient warrior within the Temple numerous times yet they had never spoken in that time. But he knew that the elder was the wisest of them and while no one Eldar commanded the Court, Laconfir’s voice held far more weight than anyone else’s despite his protests. The Banshee on the other hand was someone he held far less regard for. He had heard of her pointless, one-sided rivalry with his Temple from one of her former warriors that had since left the Howling Banshees for the Striking Scorpions. Such attitudes were foolish and would only create more dangers on the battlefield. Cirdeorn would watch her carefully lest she endanger them all in her attempts to prove herself greater than he.

“After all, we have Anepou with us!” the Fire Dragon joked.

Such humor was inappropriate within the halls of a war council. Now is not the time for jokes. They needed to decide on a stratagem to deal with the Orks quickly and to ascertain if Chaos was also present upon Orbis.

Moving to the side of the empty throne of his Aspect Temple, Cirdeorn placed his hands upon the table. “With or without the Avatar of Khaine we must deal with the invaders swiftly but carefully. If the black hand of Chaos is present upon Orbis then I do not believe the Orks are there by coincidence,” he said. “Our first actions should not be to deal with the Orks but to find if Chaos is truly present on the planet. If they are present then they must be dealt with first.”


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

Anepou was silent for the meeting, choosing to take everything in and go over it himself in his head then to so peak his piece so early. So many of the Exarchs were relatively new compared to those like he and Laconfir who had fought in their positions for literally thousands of years, the Banshee Exarch was one of them, she was extremely young to be in the Court and it spoke multitudes about her skills with the blades.

Anepou gazed across the table as his old friend, Draconir, began speaking before staring right at him. Here it comes he thought, he knew the Fire Dragon was going to call him out, he could never really resist making Anepou speak when he wished not to...he had a talent for it. Despite himself the Reaper Exarch cracked a small smile before speaking, his voice calm and cool yet set with an iron hard edge,

*"I do not fear death and neither do my warriors, we will rain destruction upon our enemies whether we have the Avatar or not."* his statement was simple yet true, his warriors would fight to the very end for their Craftworld, Avatar or no Avatar, and they would do so happily. 

He spoke up to the rest of the council who were still somewhat shocked that they would not have the Avatar to fight alongside, *"Do not forget that we are Eldar brothers and sister, we will not lose. If we have the Avatar that is a plus, if we do not then we will create enough death with our own hands to see the enemy finished."* he stopped, his small speech finished and regarded Draconir before approaching his friend. 

While they both stared at the others as they spoke Anepou asked his friend a question, *"Your thoughts on Chaos possibly being present on the planet?"* Despite his reputation as a hothead Draconir was a brilliant warrior and did not earn his position by simply loving to fight, he was just as smart as the other warriors in this room. As he waited for his friend to answer his question he listened to the others, Cirdeorn opting to search for chaos first if there was a hint of it, he agreed, if Chaos was also present then it meant that the Orks were no coincidence and were a cover up for something much bigger.


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## Santaire (Feb 13, 2011)

Warboss ‘Ead Banger shouted at the sky. He jumped off his battlewagon, crushing one of his nobs into the muck and breaking the ork’s spine. He moved slowly, hampered by his Mega armour but nonetheless deadly. He began to run to where a lone group of Eldar still held out against his orks and, barrelling through the ranks of his lackeys and smashed at full pelt into the squad. He fired off a flurry of shots from his big shoota, hitting and killing two Eldar before ripping the head off one of the remaining Eldar with his power claw. Another darted in from behind him and struck at him. It was like trying to cut down a tree with a toothpick. The blow rebounded off ’Ead Bangers armour and he turned only to see another blow aimed at his head. He snarled and raised his power claw but before the blow could fall the Eldar’s head snapped sideways before being blown apart from within. A disciplined volley of bolter fire and several sonic blasts took out the rest of the Exodites and ‘Ead Banger turned to see a terrifying figure stroll from the forest, armed with a writhing whip and a smoking bolt pistol followed by a squad of similar warriors.
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Chaos Lord Volputas Utor looked upon the greenskins with disdain. They were pathetic creatures, undeserving of his help but the sorcerer had convinced him that it would be better to leave them alive so that they could kill any Eldar who tried to interfere with their plan. Volputas would have preferred to kill the Eldar himself and offer their souls up to Lord Slaanesh but Sadis had convinced him that they had a better chance of succeeding if all the Eldar were dead when they performed the ritual. He marched up to the Warboss and spoke “I have a gift for you.” Volputas gestured and a group of cultists struggled out from under the trees bearing a huge axe inscribed with writhing runes and an equally large gun with crackling energy spouting from the barrel. “A demonstration,” the Chaos Lord said and, picking up the gun as if it was no heavier than a feather, fired it at the cultists. The results were terrifying. The cultists did not even have time to scream. They thrashed violently before exploding in a hail of gore.

Volputas walked over to the cultists carrying the axe and, lifting the weapon swung it in a wide arc. The blade passed through armour, skin, flesh and bone in seconds and, even as it passed, the cultists became withered husks, all fluids drained out of them by the axe. As if that wasn’t enough the Chaos Lord then raised the axe and, spinning swiftly, brought the blade down carving through one of ‘Ead Banger’s mega armoured nobs. The severed halves of the ork fell apart and Volputas turned to the ork Warboss. “Well?” he hissed. ‘Ead Banger nodded, overcome with awe at the power of the weapons.

Volputas dropped the axe and the gun before turning and, with the marines following, walked into the forest where he slowly faded from vision…
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The Eldar ship bearing the Swordwind of Craftworld Biel-Tan flitted through the webway swiftly. Within it, hundreds of Eldar warriors prepared themselves for battle. The Exarchs of the Court of the Young King left the room where they had been and returned to their quarters to finish their preparation for the fight that was to come.

All: You return to your quarters. Describe them. You may finish any conversations on your way. What are you thinking about what you may encounter on the planet’s surface? Do you meet up with your old squad on the way? Do you speak to any of the other members of the Court? When you reach your quarters, what do you do to prepare.

Right, this bit is separate for the new member

Athran: You leave the room with the other members of the court. As you pass the Shining Spear Exarch Levis Fuga he nods a brief greeting to you before climbing onto his jetbike and driving away. You climb onto the railing of the walkway before hurling yourself off. You activate your wings and begin to fly to your quarters. After this return to the All section for the rest of your update.


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## andygorn (Apr 1, 2011)

*Athran Havenwing*

[Apologies if this is too long...I'll change it if needed - Andy].

*****
_<Before completely flying away, Athran will try to speak a sentence to the Court before they disperse. His body language and tone of voice are in a "I forgot to say this earlier..."-style, rather than trying to detain people from doing what they're doing, or of being impatient and asking a question then leaving before getting a reply. It's up to you if you want to hear it or not, as I don't know how people are leaving, or how quickly.>_

"I know I am not the wisest here, but I have never found an Ork who had a long-term purpose apart from their mania for destruction. If the Avatar is not with us yet, perhaps it is because _they know_ that we can accomplish this without them and that they *will* be with us when they are needed? Maybe we are _supposed_ to be here with the forces we have, and I find that thought a particularly assuring and affirming one. Don't you..?"

*****
[Unless anyone has anything to say to him, Athran puts on his unadorned helmet and dives backwards under the walkway, spiralling lazily back over the top before climbing to join the eyrie of his Temple.

The 'Temple of Shrouded Rain' is known to keep close watch over each other, even when not training, so Athran joins a squad of the newest recruits on a brief training mission on the range (shooting targets, avoiding barriers which spring out of walls, etc), passing perhaps a little too close to one of them, Sasharielle. Unknown to many (and it's up to yourselves if you know it or not and -if so- how), she was a former lover before she joined the temple and before he became Exarch.
Like most new Aspect units, the squad displays good individual skills, but they yet lack the cohesion to fight as a complete unit, so he has them practice a short aerial hand-to-hand/melee combat technique in teams..._[essentially an aerial game of 'tag' where you have to catch an opponent's armour with low-power haywire grenades which send arcs of red light across the tagged person's armour, mainly disabling it, but still allowing rudimentary flight functions for the purposes of safety]._

Training completed, Athran communicates to the leaders of the temple's other squads, asking for their attendance in the temple's high dome.
It is a slightly disorientating bowl and dome, a dark place of grey mica-infused stone, lit only by several large candles, so that all the occupants have to use their racially-acute senses to a greater or lesser degree in order to see and/or hear properly. 
Once assembled, he is dressed not only in his armour, but also in the Temple's 'Robe of Ennobling' (an ankle-length hooded cape made up of pale blue feathers which is worn at the appointment of a new Head of Temple).
With helmets clasped to their sides, Athran gives the same announcement (apart from the description of the enemy) that nearly every wearer of the armour has given to the Temple before the coming of every important battle:
"Our friends, the time for stealth is nearly over, the time for the deluge has begun. We are drawn to war yet again by the hateful greenskins and the humans who follow the darkest of powers. This suit and I have never trodden the Path of the Seer, so we do not know what the future holds. In the event of this suit becoming unrecoverable, our private communicator in this chamber holds a record of the thoughts and meanings that we have tried to copy down for the one who follows."
They all put on their helmets before he continues and his voice becomes darker -something 'other'- as the original Exarch personality fully takes over: "We do not wish for annihilation but, if it comes, it will be with our foes in ruin at our feet, the warmest sun on our faces from the-other-side-of-the-cloud and our friends at our sides. As is this Temple's way, ours is not the berserker rage, nor do we lose ourselves to madness and bloodlust: I see into the precision in your hearts and that each one of you shall keep careful watch for the _perfect_ point at which to enact vengeance for all of the fallen of Biel-Tan, past and present..."

The eyrie is then filled with a cacophony of sound: myriad birds of prey (and similar avians) crowing and cawing in triumph, giving vent to affirmation...hundreds of different screeches wrested from the less-numerous voices of all assembled.


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## Jackinator (Nov 18, 2008)

*Laconfir*

"I know I am not the wisest here, but I have never found an Ork who had a long-term purpose apart from their mania for destruction. If the Avatar is not with us yet, perhaps it is because they know that we can accomplish this without them and that they will be with us when they are needed? Maybe we are supposed to be here with the forces we have, and I find that thought a particularly assuring and affirming one. Don't you..?"

"Much as I wish it were true it is rarely so easy." Laconfir remained seated, his throne towering over behind his powerful form. "For such a threat to arise without indication of a King to lead us is never a good omen." He paused, looking around at the assembled Court. "It has happened twice in my lifetime, and both were times I would not wish to relive, times of strife and... irreplaceable losses." His gaze rested on the young Exarch, "the orks are not the threat here, but Venificus has spoken of the forces of Chaos, they are a foe truly worthy of the Swordwind." He knew very well what this could mean to the Swooping Hawk, it had been an encounter with Chaos that had finally tipped him over the knife edge to become an Exarch. He only hoped that the prospect of these foes did not cloud his judgement, though he knew Athran was far from a fool.

He was more concerned about the relationship between Taenion and Cirdeorn, there had always been a rivalry between the two temples but both Exarch's were new in their position and even newer to the court. Adding to that was Taenion's own sense of inferiority to her mentor, feeling that she constantly had to prove herself. The previous incumbent of her position had been a wise warrior, one that had sought to heal the divide between the two temples. Unfortunately, Taenion seemed to share few of her views. He sighed inwardly, he only hoped that the rivalry would not cause more harm than good.

(OOC: space for any responses)

He pulled his attention back to the present, noticing that the Exarchs were beginning to take their leave. He didn't move, gazing at the hololithic globe in the centre of the room. A Maiden World, one of the few precious jewels left to the Eldar, and now it was threatened. This would not go unpunished, and when the Swordwind arrived, the foe would regret arousing the ire of Biel-tan, Chaos or no. He finally stood, gathering up his helmet under one arm and inclining his head to Foreths, smiling slightly, "come, walk with me. Spare a little time for an old friend..."


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## Lord Ramo (Apr 12, 2009)

Foreths stood immobile as the rest of the court conversed around him. They were all worthy members, though he was more suspicious of the younger elements, raw and new to the entire Swordwind. Foreths regarded his close friends Laconfir to be the most important element of the Swordwind, practical and calm, a great influence for the younger elements of the Swordwind. Foreths also had great respect for both the Fire Dragon and Dark Reaper, both were close and had fought together often. 

However one part of the Swordwind that might provide trouble was the rivalry between both the Howling Banshee and the Striking Scorpion. They had an immense rivalry, and it could potentially harm the Swordwind. While Foreths didn't want to admit it he could also be a negative force on the Swordwind. Foreths knew that his time spent leaping through the warp could attract Chaos to him. Foreths would face his death head on, he did not wish to die whilst leaping through the warp.

Athran, the Swooping Hawk exarch spoke, drawing a response from Laconfir. Whilst Athran noted that the Avatar would appear when its needed Laconfir drew on his vast experience as a member of the court, one only Anepou could rival. Foreths found himself agreeing with his old master, as he normally would.* "No matter the cost we must succeed, failure is not an option."* Foreths spoke with barely concealed rage. The thoughts earlier of his death had angered him, he would face it like every challenge. There would be no beating around the bush. 

Foreths waited as did Laconfir as the others began to leave. Laconfir obviously had something on his mind, he was staring up at the holo of the maiden world. Chaos and ork alike would regret stepping foot on the beautiful world below, Foreths knew that as a fact. He would make sure of it. Laconfir at last stood, gathering his helm in the crook of his arm he turned to Foreths and asked him simply, "come, walk with me. Spare a little time for an old friend..."

Foreths nodded, placing his helm underneath his arm as he followed his friend outside on the railings. He wasn't sure why, maybe Laconfir had noticed his moment of discomfort or maybe he just wanted to talk. Regardless Foreths would be straight with him as always. *"You wanted to talk to me Laconfir? I must admit this assignment does not sit well with me. I'm not questioning our abilities, but merely the added attention of the Pantheon on the world, it won't sit well with any of my fellows."*


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## Serpion5 (Mar 19, 2010)

*Draconir*

Draconir met the council`s conclusion with a smile and a bow, before filing out of the round chamber along with the others. He paused for a quick moment to turn to Anepou. He had not the time to give the reaper a true answer in the room, so now seemed a fitting time. 

'The servants of Chaos are indeed a foe deserving of dread.' Draconir answered. 'But keep your fears in check, for it empowers them. If we fight with the fury of Khaine in our hearts I have no doubt that we will prevail. After all, The dark forces of Chaos can bleed and suffer just as any other can. This battle will be ours, Anepou. 

He paused, adding emphasis to his words, before finishing. 'And if we die to bring it to fruition, then we have served Khaine better than any can hope.'

With that he left, the reaper and the dragon parting to prepare for the coming storm. Draconir avoided the main corridors of the vessel. Even though the majority of those aboard were warriors in War Mask, he did not wish to cross paths with a civilian. It was not for nothing that the exarchs were confined to their temples within the craftworld. 

Though it took longer to travel further around, he was glad for the isolation and felt a sense of homecoming as he entered his mobile shrine built within the ship. 

_Anger Rises..._

He approached his personal armoury. It had been freshly stocked with melta bombs from the artificers. They had been tactful, or wise, enough to supply the shrine during his absence. He picked one of them up and quickly ran through a practice run. 

'I am the bane of all armour.' Draconir whispered. He replaced the bomb and approached his signature weapon. 'The Breath of the Great Dragon.' 

Hefting the flamer with practiced ease, he continued into the training area. In a long past life, he had once trained in a temple of the Striking Scorpion. That had been a dense jungle shrine where the art of camouflage could be perfected. The subtle style of stealth and sneaking had been anathema to the warrior, who had desired a direct and destructive style of war.

After years, the warrior had come to this temple. He had witnessed war in its purest form; simple destruction. He had become a dragon, he had become the best. And when the time was right, he had donned the fallen leader`s armour. 

He had become Draconir. A name once worn with pride had been cast to the wind, forgoten like anything else he had once been. He was now only the Exarch of the Fire Dragons, Shrine of the Ashen Field.

Flamer was strapped to his back. Meltabombs hung from his sash. Sword was sheathed at his hip. His Diciples had known he would not be wioth them this battle. They had known the Court had called him. For this war they would be led by a younger exarch from a smaller and newer shrine. It was both a chance for this new priest of Khaine to prove himself, to cement his shrine in the craftworld`s network and make a name for himself. 

Draconir inhaled, letting the thoughts and memories of his warriors run their course before he focussed on his own task. 

He exhaled, lowering the helmet upon his own head. Eyes glowed a dim orange as its inner systems sprung to life. 

He was ready...


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## Akatsuki13 (May 9, 2010)

With the meeting was over, there was little else to say and little reason to stay. Giving a slight bowing of his head to his fellow Exarchs, Cirdeorn withdrew from the chambers of the Court, seeking the solitude of the Striking Scorpion Temple. But as he about to cross the threshold of the doors he paused, taking one last glance at Taenion before leaving, half expecting something foolish from her.

His journey through the Craftworld to his Aspect Shrine was in total silence; sparing not so much as a single glance at any of the other Eldar he passed. It was not that he particularly disliked other Eldar it was just that Cirdeorn found that he could no longer relate to those outside his Temple especially those that did not walk any of the Warrior Paths. He could understand the other Aspect Warriors to a degree but those who did not tread any of the Paths of War were utterly alien to him despite knowing that at one point he had been just like them.

When Cirdeorn reached the temple he had started to walk towards his quarters but stopped to watch his fellow Scorpions train through a maze that imitated a dense jungle below him. The hidden hunters waited as their prey moved into a clearing. With an opening revealed to them, the Scorpions emerged and descended on them, hacking as slashing until their foe were defeated. Once it was over the unarmored Scorpions climbed back up to their feet, congratulating their younger comrades.

That was why the Howling Banshees were not and could never be superior to the Striking Scorpions. While both embraced fighting in close combat and physical strength, they shared little else. The Banshee’s Path was one of blindly albeit gracefully rushing at the enemy head on with their blades while Path of the Striking Scorpion was one of patience and cunning, stalking the enemy before striking them down. They were as different as night and day.

“Hail honored Exarch!” one of the younger warriors called out to him, holding up her chainsword in salute. “You honor us with your presence!”

The rest of the warriors followed suit, raising up their weapons as well. Though he did not have his weapons with him Cirdeorn raised his arm, mimicking their gesture. 

“Brothers, sisters!” he yelled back to them. “Gather the others for the Craftworld marches to war once more!”

There was no cheering or exultation among them, there was no need for such things. The warriors merely nodded their heads before moving to leave the training field. Word would be spread throughout the Temple quickly enough and soon the Striking Scorpions of Bien-Tan would stand ready for war.

Stepping into his personal chambers, Cirdeorn moved to the altar upon which his helm and weapons rested. He lifted up the ancient Exarch helmet and slid it down upon his head, reconnecting it to his armor. Next he placed his Scorpion’s Claw on his left hand, flexing the pincer-shaped weapon. His gaze turned to his chainsword, the weapon he had carried through countless battles and was more a trusted companion than a weapon in his eyes. “Across the coldest of tundras, the hottest of deserts I stalk my foe,” he intoned as his fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword. “Through the densest of jungles, the flattest of fields I hunt my prey. In the brightest of days, the darkest of nights I slay all those who raise their blades against mine.”

Raising the chainsword up Cirdeorn could feel the emotions of his past lives following through him, relishing the chance to spill the blood of old foes in defense of their world as he activated the weapon, its teeth beginning to move. With a fierce roar he swung the howling sword through the air.


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## Jackinator (Nov 18, 2008)

*Laconfir*

"You wanted to talk to me Laconfir? I must admit this assignment does not sit well with me. I'm not questioning our abilities, but merely the added attention of the Pantheon on the world, it won't sit well with any of my fellows."

"I know Foreths, but you are the foremost of them, and they will be going into battle without you, they must be strong, as must we all. Not all of us enjoy taking the risks that you have dedicated your life to." He smiled to himself, "but listen to me, we both know that we have to succeed, and that none of us will fall." They walked along a little longer in silence, "I fear that Taenion and her rivalry, I would stay close to her myself but you have the manoeuvrability, would you do that for me, if she lets herself get carried away it could mean doom for all of us. I know it is a lot to ask, but please consider it, I feel it will be important." With that they had reached his temple and he bowed his head to Foreths, before turning and striding up the steps.


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## Santaire (Feb 13, 2011)

As the ship approached the Exodite world Orbis ranks of guardians and aspect warriors stood in front of the webway portal that would take them to the surface. Every warrior was clad in his armour and at the head of the swordwind stood the Court of the Young King alongside Farseer Venificus and his Seer Council. The seers stood apart from the Exarchs for they were different in almost every way. They had faced some of the most fearsome things imaginable and lived to tell the tale. The Exarchs were just as impressive. Every single one of them was the victor of many a conflict and on that day they stood ready to battle the forces of the enemy.

The portal flickered into being underneath the arch that contained it’s systems and formed a dark, shadow like, gateway that would take the war host to the surface of Orbis. Farseer Venificus stood at the head of the army alongside the Autarch who would direct the forces. The Farseer nodded to Autarch Erythar and the warrior pulled on his helmet. He turned ton face the assembled swordwind and raised his power sword high. “For Biel-Tan and our kin,” he shouted before turning and stepping through the portal. The rest of the war host swiftly followed him into the swirling gateway.
__________________________________________

On the surface Sadis suddenly fell to his knees and clutched his head in both hands. The Chaos Lord turned to look at him and Sadis raised his head. “They are here Lord,” he hissed “and I sense the powers of fate gathering to witness this place.” Volputas Utor nodded calmly and said “let us see if your precious greenskin allies can defeat them.” In his mind Volputas hoped they would not succeed so that he could face the Eldar himself and offer there souls to his God but he knew that he would gain more favour if he could complete the ritual.
__________________________________________

Warboss ‘Eadbanger yelled at his boys to speed up. They were heading towards the place where the weird glow was coming from and ‘Eadbanger raised his new axe high. “Waaaaaaagh,” he roared and was echoed by his following orks. He licked his lips and imagined the carnage that would happen when his boys met the Eldar. He promised himself that he would seek out the leader of the war host and that he would kill the warrior personally. It would be a fitting thing to proclaim his right to command the ork army and silence those who spoke out against him.
__________________________________________

The Eldar warriors left the webway portal to find themselves within full few of an ork army. They advanced towards the savage greenskins who bellowed at them. A great shout came from the ork ranks and the army charged. The Eldar swordwind did not falter. At their head was the Court of the Young King and those great warriors inspired them to fight all the harder. An enormous amount of firepower poured from the Eldar ranks but the orks kept charging. A huge battlewagon smashed through the orks ranks and careened towards the Court. On board were the nobs of Warboss ‘Eadbanger and the ork leader himself who came rushing towards the Exarchs.

A lightning bolt flickered from the left of the Court and slammed into the battlewagon, spinning it before the Autarch fired his fusion gun into the vulnerable rear end. The wagon exploded, but not before the warboss and his bodyguard had jumped clear. Now they advanced towards the Exarchs who readied to meet them...

All: You are facing nobs, the bodyguard of the ork warboss who is currently fighting the Autarch. In your posts show that they are veterans so take some time in killing them rather than doing the 'he stepped forward and stabbed the ork in the head' method that I have seen before. Also, what do you think of the fact that the warboss carries an axe that radiates dark energy and a gun that does the same?

Laconfir: You are faced by a mega armoured nob with a power klaw and a flamer 
Draconir: You are faced by a mega armoured nob with a rokkit launcher and a power klaw

Anepou: You are faced with a mega armoured nob with a power klaw and a big shoota
Foreths: You are faced by a nob on a war bike armed with a power klaw and slugga. He also wears extra amourTaenion: You are faced by a mega armoured nob with a power klaw and a twin-linked shootaCirdeorn: You are faced by a mega armoured nob with two power klaws

Athran: You are faced by a huge nob with extra armour, a cybork body and a heavy choppa


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## Serpion5 (Mar 19, 2010)

*Draconir*

Colours and shapes, visions of past and what might have been future swirled past Draconir`s mind as he flickered through the webway alongside the others of the Court. He looked to the left and right, seeing the other exarchs as well as the seer council as the transition was complete and the battlefield resolved before them. As one, the eldar army opened fire. Draconir took heart at seeing the pulses of Falcon fire and blasts of Distortion guns and Prism Cannons tear through the ork horde. But he could see that it would take far more than massed firepower to win this fight. By all accounts to orks could see it too. 

A crude transport, defying all sense of logic by remaining intact, careened towards them. Draconir glanced over the occupants with disdain; the leader caste. There was no avoiding it, battle had been joined as the occupants leaped or were otherwise thrown from the vehicle by its incessant bounding and ricketing over the rough terrain. Draconir picked his target, as did the other exarchs and the orks responded with gusto. The warboss had recognised the eldar leader, and the autarch had retaliated swiftly. The ork carried an axe radiating with some strange power. The fire dragon wondered, could this be why they were here? 

The thought fell from his mind as he was forced to duck a massive swing of a powerklaw, his opponent wearing a suit of scrap metal which he seemed to believe would serve as armour. Attached to the brute`s other hand was a crude firearm, several primitive rockets attached to it by what Draconir could have sworn were spots of glue... 

Putting his amusement aside, he unleashed a salvo of flame upon the creature before somersaulting onto its shoulders to avoid the backswing. Still on fire, it snarled at him furiously even as its skin peeled from its face. Draconir leaped back to the ground as it tried to claw him off, gouging a chunk of its own armour off in the process. It raised its weapon and fired, missing Draconir by a wide margin. Almost succumbing to laughter, Draconir blasted flame at it again, even giving the creature a small semblance of respect for its resilience. 

But now the game was over. Deigning that enough time had been wasted, Draconir vaulted back on top of the ork`s armour. Dislodging a melta bomb from his sash, he triggered the timer and wedged it into the ork`s metal imitation jaw affixed to its armour, leaving the device right in front of its face. He vaulted clear, picturing the stunned expression on its face as the flames finally cleared from its vision and it saw what was right before its eyes.

Get clear everyone!' He called. Moments later, a loud boom indicated that the ork was no more, undone by its own clumsiness and the Fire Dragon`s superior skill. Draconir looked back at the Autarch, his mind once again wondering about that dark axe in the ork leader`s grip...


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## andygorn (Apr 1, 2011)

_[Hope this isn't too long, but this is how it came to mind - Andy]_
*****
Unlike most he had seen, the brute charging towards Athran wasn’t encumbered by a heavy power claw. Although that made it less likely to land a killing blow, it also made the creature faster than others of it's kind; something that might give the dull-witted creature an advantage if he was not careful. Despite identifying several points of weakness in it’s armoured frame, the animal was still more of a ‘construct’ than the typical greenskin he had hunted from afar in decades past; and now the thing was getting _close_.

Activating his winged jump pack for two seconds, the instant burst of speed catapulted him shoulder-first into the Ork’s iron-plated midriff. The impact rang out as the thing grunted in pain but did not fall, whereas Athran careened off it’s hulking form at an angle, leaving a furrow in the grass...picking himself up, he reflected that that was perhaps not the smartest manoeuvre he had ever tried.

The brute was already turning around and charging back to him, swiping through the air with it’s huge brutally-hooked choppa, wielding it on both hands. Dodging backwards, his jump pack carried him out of it’s way just in time, although one of the foe’s weapon-barbs still managed to catch against his thigh on a backswing, tearing off a grenade pack.
Swearing at the impact, he discharged the sun rifle into it’s upper torso, but was dismayed to see that half of the laserbolts just peeled off paint and bounced off it’s torso-sized shoulder pads whereas the ones which had fully impacted merely sank into it’s body and hissed through flesh and tin, exposing innards full of servomotors and cogs.

Although he could have stayed far away and shot it until it died, Athran knew that height would only make him a sitting target for anything with a firearm (as well as the possibility of him falling prey to stray rounds from the casual shooting-into-the-air that was so beloved by the entire greenskin race). Also, the Nob may have turned on another to look for closer prey and this potential endangerment of a fellow Eldar -as well as the possibility of a preybeast refusing to fight- were indignities that Athran’s instincts could not allow happen.

He swooped back into the fray, watching it drool in anticipation of the renewed conflict and also watching the confused look on it’s face as he rolled away at the last moment as it’s powered halberd drove down and dug into the ground with a _thud_ where he had just been. Right wing held inwards to assist his rolling spin, Athran’s left wing snapped out and extended fully, the razored edge caught the thing fully across it’s chest. Despite shearing off several poorly-welded glyph-plates (and causing oil and blood to seep out between the ones that remained), the Nob showed little sign of actual discomfort.
Snarling in anger, it tried to pull the weapon free, but it’s augmented strength and fury meant the weapon had stuck fast in the earth and the beast’s efforts only succeeded in snapping the weapon, leaving the jagged blade embedded in the ground. In frustration, the Nob tossed the 5-foot corroded steel handle at the Exarch in frustration, catching Athran across the knees and he began to fall as the Ork bore down upon him and it wrapped both trunk-like arms around his body.
With his own limbs pinned to his sides, it left only his fingers free and his hands still holding the rifle between them.

Athran could almost felt it’s hot, fetid breath seeping through the seals on his armoured helmet as it held him fast: Even his double-footed kick between it’s legs brought only a dull clanging sound and almost no reaction from the beast and it gave him a replying grimace-smile with tusks huge enough to punch through both sides of his helmet. It also ‘gifted‘ him with a display of most of the remains of it’s last meal still jammed between it’s craggy yellow teeth, subjecting him to even more of it’s rank halitosis.

Feeling several armour plates beginning to buckle beneath it’s prodigious strength, he headbutted the creature, causing no damage and leaving most of the front of his helmet stuck to it’s tusk. However, whilst the creature shook the offending item free, it gave him enough time to reverse his grip on the sunrifle so that it was now pointing straight upwards between their bodies.
“Now it’s killin’ time, panzee” wheezed the Ork and it took nearly all of Athran’s concentration not to vomit as his senses were now fully exposed to it’s malodorous stench; the Nob redoubled it’s efforts and the chain-driven motors of it’s arms belched soot and smoke with the increased effort as mere seconds remained.
Athran looked back into it’s hate-maddened cybernetic eyes and brought the gun’s muzzles into contact with the Ork’s throat. Seeing realisation start to dawn on it’s befuddled face, in reply to it’s threat Athran whispered “You are so right, monster” as he pulled the trigger and the multiple barrels discharged at point blank range into it’s neck and underneath it’s chin.

With it’s arms automatically releasing him as the creature spasmed in it’s death-throes, Athran tried to somersault away from the perforated corpse. Though not injured greatly, the fight had taken it’s toll on his endurance; he barely managed to flop out of the falling mechanical’s way as it collapsed to the verdant grass...even in death, the thing _still_ managed to pollute the very earth with it’s vile petrochemicals?! Outraged, Athran punched the body in the back of what remained of it’s head, pulling out a profusion of wires and cables, venting his frustration and yelling as he tried to restore his strength.

Staggering to regain his feet, Athran heard the nearby detonation of a heavy grenade and the scent of burning flesh. But, through the din of battle and smell of burning flesh, he thought he could discern an acrid, distinctly _'other'_ scent; one memory from a different lifetime, long ago.
His rational mind tried to identify it, but the suit recalled it first and remembered the general stench of the source only too well: _“Beware, a thing of abomination is at work here.”_
Picking up his grenade pack from the grass, though he could not discount such a dire threat, practicality had to take precedence; he would look for it later, but for now he had to try to keep watch in case other any greenskins tried to overwhelm their position.


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## Akatsuki13 (May 9, 2010)

Cirdeorn surged towards his target, Maniblasters and Scorpion’s Claw firing; the projectiles peppered the body of Ork Nob. Some of shots cut through the crude power armor of the greenskin but had little effect on the hulk brute besides angering it further. The Nob roared as it swung its three bladed power klaw down on the Exarch. But Cirdeorn was quicker, sidestepping the weapon before swinging his chainsword into the outstretched limb. The whirling teeth tore into the armor drawing mechanical fluid and blood.

But with a cry of rage and pain, the Ork backhanded the Striking Scorpion. Cirdeorn was thrown backwards by the powerful blow, slamming onto the ground. “I’z gonna crush yer puny skull in!” the Ork roared as it raised its arms up.

Maniblasters fired, hitting the right side of the Nob’s head. Howling the greenskin staggered back, the right side of its face a bloody mess. Using the opening, Cirdeorn leaped to his feet his weapons ready. The Exarch rapidly slashed at the Ork’s chest with his sword and claw, ripping open the armor plates and exposing the inner components of the armor before they too were torn and cut. But before he could get to the Ork’s flesh the Nob threw its bulk forward, intending to crush him with its great weight. Cirdeorn was faster however, jumping back before it could hit him.
With klaws swiping at his head, Cirdeorn found himself struggling to stay out of the longer reach of Ork. So he stopped trying. Diving down forward underneath the thick arms of the Nob, the Exarch rammed his chainsword with all his strength into the left knee of the greenskin. Ork blood spilled upon his armor as the teeth of his sword chewed through flesh and metal. He pulled the blade through the side of Ork’s leg, leaving the limb hanging by a thread of flesh and metal. Unable to support the weight of its armor on one leg, the Ork collapsed to its knees.

Yet despite the wounds the Nob was still fighting as fiercely, wildly flailing its klaws at Cirdeorn while spitting out curses at him. Standing just out of reach of the Nob, the Scorpion raised his Claw and fired its Shuriken Catapult. The projectiles tore into the Ork’s skull, shredding its brain into a pulp. With a heavy thud, the Ork’s twitching but dead body crashed to the ground.

Turning from his defeated opponent to the rest of battle still playing out it was clear to Cirdeorn that the fight with the Orks was far from over. His eyes focused on the Warboss leading the greenskin hordes Orbis and his weapons. They were tainted by the dark powers of Chaos. There was no denying it now. The touch of Chaos was upon Orbis.


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## Jackinator (Nov 18, 2008)

*Laconfir*

A roar of flame rushed towards him and he dropped to one knee, the air above him filled with a roiling wash of fire. He raised the shruiken catapult, squeezing the trigger and peppering the Nob with a hail of lethal discs. Most embedded themselves in the armour while a select few found ****** in the massive clanking suit of armour the beast was wearing. The ork howled in rage, charging forward and swinging his power klaw in a wild haymaker towards Laconfir's head. he dropped his other leg and flung his head back, the claw flying over his head. The alien thundered past him and he sprang to his feet, drawing his Dire Sword and flicking it out and across the nob's back. The beast spun in fury rushing towards him again, he sun out of the way but the nob's flailing flamer caught him, the glancing blow sending him flying across the battlefield. He crashed to the ground, slid, then rolled to his feet. As he rose he turned and levelled the Shruiken catapult. A hail of discs pattered off the nobs armour and one penetrated the flamer's tank. Suddenly the nob was a howling figure of flame. It stumbled blindly towards him and he gracefully plunged the Dire Sword into the heart of the flame. A blast of pure hatred rushed down the blade, making it shake in his hands as will fought will within the fire. With a final howl, the ork lost, Laconfir pulled the blade out, stepping back quickly as the still burning figure fell to it's knees and collapsed before him. His left glove was seared and blackened from the flames, and it wasn't until now that he felt the pain of the fire, he dismissed it, turning his attention back to the battle in hand...


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## Santaire (Feb 13, 2011)

Warboss ‘Eadbanger roared his victory as he brought the axe down. It scythed through the air towards the Autarch, trailing warp energy. Erythar hurled himself backwards, away from the blow and the axe thudded into the ground where he had just been. He lashed out with a foot, kicking the ork in the knee. It was like trying to cut down a tree with a feather. The Warboss, unperturbed stepped forward and swung the axe down once more. This time unexpected help arrived in the form of two psychic bolts slamming into the ork’s chest and the arrival of the Court of the Young King. They stood behind the Autarch, ready to spring into action at the slightest movement. Warboss ‘Eadbanger swung his gun round and fired. The blast of energy hit a shield in front of the warriors and the Warboss snarled in annoyance, turning to see the source of the shield.

Farseer Venificus stood to his right, pointing his staff at the ork. The Warboss grinned, showing rows of sharp, fang like teeth. He charged at the Court, roaring, and swung his axe in a great curving arc. The axe head met Laconfir’s sword and stopped. Any other blade would have broken but the weapon Laconfir carried was a diresword. This powerful weapon contained the soul stone of an Eldar warrior and Laconfir’s contained the soul stone of the previous Exarch to hold his rank, a warrior who had fought in many a conflict and whose spiritual power could only just hold the strength of the demon inhabiting the axe that the Warboss wielded. Although he stopped the blow Laconfir was driven back by the force of it.

The Warboss was at the mercy of the rest of the court until a mighty roar heralded the arrival of the rest of the ork horde. The Swordwind had slowed them but there was so many that for every one killed 2 more took its place. The boys pounded towards the Court and a war biker drove forward in his eagerness to join the fight. Taenion sliced his head off before he could attack them but his war bike continued, careening in between the Exarchs and the Warboss. Laconfir leapt backwards from the bike and Erythar prepared to lunge forward. However, before he could strike the world went black. There was a sudden sense of vertigo and then their vision returned and they found themselves in a forest without an ork in sight. The whole army had come with them and the Court turned, astonished and saw the source of the teleport. The entire seer council were lying, semi conscious on the floor in a circle. In the centre of the circle was Farseer Venificus who was leaning on his staff for support.

He collapsed and the Court darted forward, Cirdeorn only just managing to catch the Farseer before he fell. He laid Venificus to rest and turned, along with the rest of the Court, moving off to help the Autarch organise the Eldar forces…

All: It is an hour after the teleport. Venificus is lying in a coma nearby you. You sense that his life is fading and you are unsurprised, although the seer council had contributed he had borne the full effort of controlling the teleport. You are currently sitting in a ring around a small fire. What are your opinions on what he did? Did you want to stay and fight or do you believe that he did the right thing in teleporting you far from the ork horde? What do you think of the current situation? You spent the previous hour attempting to marshal the scattered Eldar army and organize them into something befitting a Swordwind of Biel-Tan. Take this time to reflect on the battle, you may also include your thoughts on the weapons carried by the Warboss when he fought the Autarch.

(Come on dudes, don’t let it die this soon)

((Last chance Astro and BAV))


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## Serpion5 (Mar 19, 2010)

*Draconir*

As the ork opponent died a fiery death, Draconir had turned his gaze to the axe that the warboss wielded against the swordwind commander. The momentum had swung in the ork`s facvour, and the exarch Laconfir had interfered to render aid. 

Draconir moved to assist, but something on the edge of his mind made him stop. One hand rested on the grip of his flamer, the other was thumbing one of his meltabombs. More orks were approaching. Whatever the psychic presence was would have to wait for the moment, as Draconir unleashed a wall of flames at the approaching ork horde. A bike could be heard somewhere nearby, but the fire dragon was too caught up in the moment to register the possible threat and simply ignore it. He advanced further, spraying yet more fire into the horde. 

The fuel chamber in his Dragon Breath Flamer was close to empty now, so in one swift movement he detached it, tossed it towards the oncoming mob abd reloaded a fresh one. He stood ready to unleash more death when suddeny the presence he had felt moments ago reached a peak and a flash of light overwhelmed his senses... 

--- --- ---​
Draconir sat in a cross legged position, his flamer sitting to his left and his helmet sitting to his right. His eyes were enraptured by the fire in front of him, around which sat the other exarchs of the court. It ha taken some time for them to marshall the rest of the swordwind after the teleportation, and the old farseer lay nearby in a coma where Cirdeorn had left him. 

Draconir could not fault the farseer`s concern and decision to remove them all from the battle, but even so he could not help but feel cheated in some small way. The warboss was right there in the midst of the court, surely they could have ended it? 

The fire dragon tore his gaze away from the fire and looked across the others of the court, his gaze finally resting on Laconfir. 

'Laconfir Avenger,' He asked. 'You were fighting the warboss before we were taken from the battle. What do you think? Could we have ended the fight then and there? Or do you believe the Farseer was right to take us from the battle?'


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## andygorn (Apr 1, 2011)

As he tried to stand from killing his opponent, Athran looked around.

The Ork Warlord wielded an axe of prodigious power yet, surely, it should not have been possible for such animals to harness it: their psykers prayed to Gods of a different barbarism.

As the horde closed in, it was clear that the Swordwind stood little chance of victory.
With the hand of Chaos involved, even if the Eldar had -by some miracle- managed to massacre the Orks and suffer few losses, it would mean little as the real power behind the scenes began to play it's cards and move their pawns into position.

With a sharp crack, the battle was eclipsed by a shower of light and new ground awaited.

*****

Stunned by the transportation and still trying to recover, Athran groggily staggered, trying to help regroup his senses and also help the Court with their troopers.

Allocating several Hawk squads to scouting to determine terrain and have advance warning in case the Orks -or any other foes- approached, it was only after this was underway that he turned to see the Farseer critically weakened.

Behind his helmet, his face flushed with shame as he felt that he had ignored his leader.
Despite knowing that Venificus was beyond any battle first-aid that he could proffer, Athran still tried to comfort the Council as best he could, giving them thanks for the army's safety and offering them the food and refreshments at his disposal.

However, the nagging thoughts about the battle still remained.
What _was_ that weapon it used?
Attempting meditation, he recalled individual moments:

An axe that was not cut by Laconfir's blade? He had not heard of such a thing happening when foes used mortal weapons...so it must be something 'other'.

Not only that, but the Warboss had also wielded a huge blaster-gun which fired bolts of some kind of matter.

Perhaps trying to figure out what the gun used might give them a key to understanding how to undo it's malevolence?
Yet the only person who knew it's strengths was now incapacitated, or perhaps worse.

Taking his place by the fire, he nodded as the suit berated him for imagined cowardice, letting out a sharp, shrill keening in his head as it yearned for the 'perfect strike' that had been denied to both of them.

[Not jumping into anyone's conversations, but when there is a suitable lull in discourse, to anyone who happens to be listening, Athran says:]
"We have never seen an Ork use such powers before, are they not anathema to such a beast, though?
"Surely it had help from the dark ones, but what other motivations leads them here, apart from to tear down our lands?"

[Space for replies/conversations].


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## Lord Ramo (Apr 12, 2009)

Foreths had dealt with his opponent swiftly. The opponent that had engaged him was slow and predictable. All orks were. It had been simple enough Foreths had leapt through the warp towards his target, feeling the cool sensation of the warp as he entered it. He couldn't stay long, each second he stayed here he risked drawing the attention of the pantheon, and that was something that Foreths did not want to do. He quickly exited, the ork on the warbike not realizing what had happened as Foreths appeared behind him. He quickly opened fire, watching the monofillament wires hit the ork.

The ork roared in pain, though it did wear extra armor that still hurt it. It turned firing with its gun, only to find Foreths was no longer there. He moved quickly before exiting again, jumping on to the warbike behind the ork, stabbing with his two powerblades before dissapearing once again. The ork was getting angry and confused as Foreths exited infront of him, firing before dissapearing again. He leapt out a final time, slamming his legs into the orks face before stabbing down with his blade.

When the warboss charged, orks rallying to it Foreths could see the blade. It had power unknown to orks, and would be a deadly blade. Before he could leap into action he was surrounded by a bright light as the seers transported them elsewhere. Foreths noticed that the entire council were unconscious and Foreths moved towards them, checking that they were still breathing. *"At least the council is alive, now we need to gather the remnants of the swordwind and plot our next move." * 

Foreths looked at his brothers before moving away and looking for survivors. He would need to gather more warp spiders, being able to have their abilities would be very helpful in this situation. While he did he thought about the orks weapon, Chaos was behind this, they were the ones that needed to be destroyed, the orks might be easier to defeat then.


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

Anepou's world had vanished around him in a blink of bright white light. The nob he had shot in the face, along with the other orks around him, had disappeared and been replaced by a different scene entirely, a peaceful night. It had taken he and the rest of the council an hour or so to marshal the rest of their forces that had also teleported and now, their job complete for now, they sat around a small fire. 

Anepou was silent, his deathly armor sucking in the light from the fire as he pondered the day's events. He was furious that they had been pulled from the battle, to retreat was a disgrace and he believed that they should have stayed and fought like the warriors that they were. 

He sighed, this anger was not good, he needed to keep his mind clear so that he could concentrate on his art. He got up from the fire and went to sit out by himself on a rock, he readied his cannon as if he was going to fire but simply scanned the horizon back and forth, the repeated motion easing his mind. 

He stopped the motion as he thought on the warboss's weaponry, he had seen weapons like that before but never in the hands of an ork. What was it doing with chaos weaponry? He had fought the fallen gene sons of the human's Emperor before and seen such weapons in use before, but never by an ork and never ones that powerful. It concerned him greatly that the warboss had such powerful items at his fingertips, yet what concerned more was how the ork had attained them. 

He slowed his breathing as he sat and crossed his legs, his eyes staring out into the darkness around him as he fell into a meditative state, his body and mind relaxing.


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## Jackinator (Nov 18, 2008)

*Laconfir*

'Laconfir Avenger,' He asked. 'You were fighting the warboss before we were taken from the battle. What do you think? Could we have ended the fight then and there? Or do you believe the Farseer was right to take us from the battle?'

Laconfir raised his eyes from the prone body of Veneficus, looking towards the Fire Dragon, sensing the frustration in his voice. "Yes, I believe he made the right choice, that was no mortal blade the beast carried. It is a hungry thing, we may all have fallen before it. Worse, this proves the presence of Chaos on this world, a far deadlier foe, one that the felling of a Warboss would do little to harm it." He turned to Athran, "I do not know why they are here Athran, but time has taught me that the forces of Chaos are rarely as random as they at first appear, their true purpose remains unknown."

He looked around, the warriors of the Swordwind were already battered and bloody, reduced from their deadly glory to the blackened and scorched aftermath of war. The battle could hardly have lasted more than four or five minutes. The other Exarchs however were conscious.

"There is little time to waste, we cannot know how long the council will remain in this state, so it falls to us to make the next decision. Chaos has revealed it's hand, I propose we mount up and hunt it down. We have enough vehicles to extract much of the Swordwind and the Falcons and Wave Serpents will provide us with the mobility we need. Athran, Foreths. You two would be ably equipped to provide a skirmish and scouting force." He paused, awaiting any other suggestions or comments from the rest of the Court...


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## Santaire (Feb 13, 2011)

“I will have no more sneaking about,” Volputas roared, slamming his fist onto the table. The heavy oak was split in half by the Lord’s strength but the traitor did not notice. “It is time for us to kill those foolish Eldar, let us finish this fight and offer their souls to Slaanesh. “My Lord,” Sadis began but Volputas cut him off. “No sorcerer, we promised Slaanesh souls and he will get souls,” with that the Chaos Lord turned and issued orders for 7 squads of Chaos marines and a squad of Chosen to attack the Eldar. They did so without hesitation. Volputas turned to Sadis, saying “there will be a time when I no longer have use of you and on that day I will kill you.” Sadis grunted but said nothing and the Chaos marines slipped into the woods.
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Venificus was still lying in a coma some metres away from where the members of the court stood. Taenion was the most outwardly aggressive one there, followed by Draconir and it was plain that the howling banshee was angered by the death of her old squad. She was insisting that they attack while Anepou and Laconfir were the foremost in opposition to this. They all paused suddenly. A crack had sounded in the woods that sounded suspiciously like bolter fire. As they stood still, waiting for any signs that they were under attack a bolter sounded again and Taenion flew backwards. Half her head was missing for she had been hit by pinpoint fire from the bolter. The Court scattered, returning fire. The bolts seemed to be coming from everywhere but due to the sporadic fire of the Swordwind there were a few cries and the hail of fire lessened in intensity.

Then there was a roar and their attackers burst from the woods. There were 70 normal Chaos space marines spearheaded by 15 chosen wielding sonic blasters and evil looking swords. They fired mid sprint and the force of their guns flung several guardians away like toys but the Court were not so easily moved. A volley of fire slashed into the right flank of the Chaos marines from a large group of rangers and the bolts of light cut down 20 of the traitors. Shuriken fire lashed in from the left flank and carved down more space marines and from behind the court a single volley from the wraithguard slammed into the foe, killing 10 and wounding others. Then the enemy had reached the Court and all of them were in the thick of the fighting. The aspect warriors joined the fight, going to the aid of the Exarch of their temple as they fought the worshippers of Slaanesh. All the Eldar fought with fury for they knew that not only their lives depended on the outcome of this battle but also their souls.


All: You are each faced with two chosen and 5 normal marines. The marines have bolters and chainswords and the chosen have sonic blasters and power swords. I want to see some writing before I see you killing them because these are the elite of the elite and so won’t go down easy. What are your characters feeling about fighting the servants of Slaanesh? Are you thinking of what will happen to you if you lose or are you trying to ignore it and to just focus on the fight?

Anepou and Draconir: You two have a choice. You can stay in the combat or you can retreat to outside the melee and shoot into it. After you have chosen return to the all section for the rest of your update


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## Serpion5 (Mar 19, 2010)

*Draconir*

Draconir had slipped into a seance of meditation, the myriad of minds within him coalescing and debating with one another whether they should be wasting time here, whether they should have finished the fight, and whether the farseer had led them on a fool`s errand. Some of the souls comprising Draconir had little love to spare for those of the seer path while others had nothing but faith and respect. 

Shouting on the edge of his senses banished these lingering flitters of thought to the back of his awareness and the current Draconir became dominant yet again. Instantly he reached for his helmet, donning it in on swift movement and taking up his weapons with the next. There were enemies all around, and the Exarch`s first thought was to marshall the warriors to action and bolster the morale of all others. 

'Children of Isha, today you will cast aside all thought of tears and regret!' He called, loosing a blistering wall of flame that consumed three of the enemy marines in a matter of moments. Their charred suits of armour fell at his feet. 

'You will cast aside any notion of sympathy and pity!' He continued, driving his blade through the neck join of another before dancing aside a clumsy counter attack from his foe`s partner. He loosed another flame burst, incinerating the second attacker as well as a third who came to assist. 

'For here, you are warriors!' He called again. He glimpsed two more attacker closing in on him, their elaborate weapons and armour marking them as elite among their brethren. He pointed his Dragon Breath flamer to the ground and set the grass ablaze at their feet. The volatile liquid that fuelled his weapon splashed and clung to their armour as they tried to close. 

'On this day, you are the children of KHAINE!' His fury and drive were still growing, and now it was time to shed blood. Real warrior`s blood. He dropped his flamer behind him and sprinted forward into a bounding somersault. Distracted by the flames at their feet, the astartes were ill suited to fight back, and he inflicted a deep cut along the closest marine`s helmet before landing on his shoulder. The marine bucked to dislodge the nimble eldar but Draconir had already leaped into the air once more. He swung a backhanded swing as he did so, combining with his earlier strike to remove a section of the astarte`s helmet completely. 

The giant armoured form fell back in surprise even as Draconir landed beside the raging fire. The astartes fell, the flames climbing his fallen body and seeping into the joints and the gap in his helmet. The screams that followed were unworldly, as if the twisted occupant of the armour was actually _enjoying_ his suffering. 

_Truly their souls are damned..._ Draconir thought gloomily. 

As the final opponent looked on, he saw the raging inferno mirrored in the eyes and blade of his lithe foe. By this stage he had no desire but to kill, and so he charged blindly through the flames. Draconir rolled aside as the astartes fell forward. More ecstatic screams followed as the astartes fumbled, trying to rise.

Draconir swept his sword through the fire nar the ground, catching the flaming liquid on his blade and bringing the sword above his head ablaze. 

His fury peaked, and the last astartes` damned life was ended...


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