# Dark Eldar



## unxpekted22

_Welcome to the Kabal of the Torturous Bite_​

The reflected shine of a dull orange flame flickers off the layered black armor plating of nineteen other kneeling kabalite warriors around you. You are sealed in a room amongst the vast levels of your Archon’s personal spire. Lukewarm liquid slowly drips onto the backs of your necks or the tops of your hair. Your noses are all too familiar with the scent of blood. Something inside of you reacts warmly, a soothing rejuvenation, though it is barely noticeable for the pain of the dyeing above you has become stale.

Standing between you and the two low flames against the wall is your new leader, Sybarite Tyyrn. His armor compliments the orange flame nicely, as it is highlighted with a dull red over the body, the horned helm at his waist has eye slits brightened with flares of orange and yellow. On his belt of chains wrapped around his waist there is a splinter pistol and an agoniser whip, a dull black spiral curled at his side while deactivated. Leaning on the wall beside him is his ornate splinter rifle, bedecked with a savage bayonet. He has a fairly large alien canine pierced vertically through each cheek, and thin black hair pulled tightly into a tail that reaches down between his shoulder blades, between the phantasm grenade launcher connected to the back of his armor, twin tubes leering over his shoulders waiting to spew out agony once more.

He continues speaking…

“I am sure you have all heard rumor by now that the Torturous Bite will be conducting a realspace raid in the near future. It is true. This will be the first realspace raid since the founding of the Kabal. Therefore I should let you all know, we do not want the _weak_ with us. Archon Direngr’s target is an impressive one, and our new numbers are double that which was expected, largely due to the support that Lord Direngr has managed to obtain from the Kabal of the Flayed Skull.”

“Our bitter rivals, The Impassioned, will undoubtedly be trying to sabotage our efforts. Rest assured, they will likely weed out as many of our unfit warriors as we will, if not more so. Our Kabal’s prestige and influence relies _completely_ on this realspace raid. Debts will be paid off, relationships strengthened, and most of all, the weight of our title will increase tenfold.”

“I suggest that each of you try to do the same for yourselves in the time between now and the Kabal’s departure in two weeks. Being some of the newest members of the Kabal, your names currently mean nothing. The weight of your title is nothing, the weight of your purse is nothing. Obtain these, and the first realspace raid of the Torturous Bite will bring back opportunity in all its forms.”

“Lord Direngr has been so kind as to share some of his wealth with his new warriors, relish, and be about yourselves.”

With this, Sybarite Tyyrn turns and walks out of the room into his personal coven within the Spire of the Torturous Bite kabal. From a rectangular black space in the ceiling above where he had stood come several grinding sounds of mechanization. Three cages are lowered before you, each one holding a fresh soul captive. They already scream, for they are pinned in place within their cages. Once at eye level, the metal rods they are skewed upon ignite with large bolts of electricity, fluorescent purple light taking over the room.

Your actions are up to you. There are five members of the squad who were a part of the Kabal when it was still the Syndicate, they will be standing together while they soak in the suffering. You may follow Tyyrn, you may interact with any of the other players, or you may think to yourself, but you may not leave yet. 
_
(don’t worry about writing your character’s thoughts. A good roleplayer can stay in character and remember what their character knows and does not know, though everyone can have their feelings and instincts. If I feel a player is taking a godmod approach to seeing the other players’ thoughts then it will be dealt with. Have your character react to the other player characters’ actions, not their thoughts)_


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## Serpion5

*Nemele*

Inspiring words. Truly. Inspiring. Words... 

Nemele tried her hardest to stifle a yawn as the sybarite droned on about glory, riches, power, the usual crap. Nemele was no stranger to the inner workings of the cabals, indeed her youth had been spent kowtowing to the pleasures of a harsh "mother" and her treacherous ambition within the cabal owned by the legendary Asdubrael Vect himself. 

Who was this Tyyrn anyway? What possible right could he have to command her? Age, seniority, social status, it all meant little as far as Nemele was concerned. Her ambition outweighed his, of that she was certain... 

It was a relief when he finally stopped and left. Nemele glanced around at some of the others. She had overheard a few conversations earlier and already recognised a few names. Echar, Darco, and whoever else. She would have to make an effort to at least memorise their names if nothing else. She gave a second look to Echar, a black armoured warrior with an ugly green coloured arm piece. A scarred face, clearly he had seen heavy action, maybe even a raid? 

Nemele envied him for that. She herself had never set foot outside of Commoragh. She sidled towards him, slowing down a little as she passed and giving him an intriguing glance. She turned away, playing it cool but keeping her senses alert. If he took the bait, then she had found a potential pawn. 

If not, then she would simply try her allure on somebody else. Maybe even... 

Tyyrn.


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## Lord of the Night

Visarys inhaled softly as the flame's heat caressed his the curves of his angular face and warm the sharp slits of his midnight black armor, the white trims taking on a light orange tone as the flames reflected against them. He exhaled as he felt the drip of the nectar fall onto his neck, his body flared in warmth at each drop, but it faded just as quickly as it rose, the slaves pain was stale and boring now, and yet they had not been brought new ones. Visarys smirked in his head, it was a subtle reminder that they were new and not yet worthy of fresh slaves brought to them at a whim, they had to earn that, it was marvelous. 

The room was spartan, another reminder of their Kabal's fresh birth, it had not yet earned the decadent glory of the higher Kabals, the Bloodied Claw, the Black Heart or the Poisoned Tongue. Though to say that to the Sybarite sitting before them would end Visarys's raider calling long before it had even blossomed, he kept his tongue in check, for now. The Sybarite, Tyyrn or something like that, was a fairly impressive figure, splinter pistol and a curled Agoniser whip at his waist and his cheeks pierced by xenos fangs, _'Orkish or Tyranid'_ Visarys mentally judged. Visarys immediately judged how best to kill him, a whip was a fearsome weapon to be sure, but twin blade wielders could use their unique forms to parry a whip and strike down its wielder. Visarys made a note of that for the inevitable confrontation between the two.

As he droned on about the first raid into realspace that the Kabal had ever performed Visarys singled out what he would need and what was mere banter. That the Flayed Skull was joining them was a mixed blessing, their teched-out hunters would be helpful in a fashion, and would likely take the lion's share of the plunder once they were finished, regardless of how much aid they gave, or how many cattle they took from the field. Visarys cursed the Archon and his sycophants, the Torturous Bite was but a babe in Commorragh, a den of wolves all waiting for the very first mistake to be their last. And he would give needed plunder and slaves to those headhunters who likely wouldn't even be bloodied with them. The Impassioned were another matter, their interference would indeed prove prosperous, to root out the weak and those unable to be traitors, those who wouldn't gamble all for a single victory, men and women unlike Visarys. The Sybarite could drone on about this single victory increasing their strength tenfold but Visarys knew that a single realspace raid did not make a Kabal, the ability to survive the treachery and rivalry that came after made Kabals.

As the Sybarite left and fresh slave cages were lowered into the room Visarys sighed lightly, the pain and suffering of the creature before him, a human male or female, it was hard to tell with such a homely race, energized him and broke his thoughtful reverie. The lightning that danced across his skin tingled as he drew pleasure from the agony of the wailing mon-keigh, feeling its life-force pass into him and breathe fresh life into his black soul. The youthful sheen that many prized after soul-feeding meant little to Visarys, he had been blessed with a naturally youthful countenance and others were aware of it. As he continued to feed, allowing the torture to focus his thoughts as he became so much more aware of the hooks that kept his armor in place digging into his flesh and the rush of adrenaline that came as he mentally prepared himself for his first taste of real carnage and war. And as he fed he kept a close eye on those around him, subtly enough that only those who made no secret of their gaze upon him would realize, but those who only glanced would believe him to be utterly unaware of their eyes upon him. And that was exactly what Visarys wanted.


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## Farseer Darvaleth

Echar Drakthorn knelt with the rest of the kabalite warriors, feeling the lukewarm blood slowly drip onto his bare neck. He had removed his beast-like crimson helmet, and it hung at his side, clinking gently against the hooked chains which hung from his waist. A great warrior, Sybarite Tyyrn, addressed the assembled warriors, telling them of the great glory to be won from this realspace raid, the first of the Torturous Bite's excursions. He spoke of how the weak would be weeded out, leaving only the strong and the mighty. Echar was quietly determined to be amongst those favoured few, to rise to the top. One day, he would realise his ambition of joining the mighty Incubi.

As Tyyrn finished his speech, Echar stood. His curved blade swung from his armoured flank, and he could feel his dark red splinter rifle against his shoulder. He was fully armoured, his left arm a sickening green, but otherwise he was totally black. His hair was loose at his shoulder, also jet black. His blue eyes scanned the room, taking in those around him. He didn't recognise any of them. Odd that he had been trained by the Kabal separately to them all, but then there was always a reason. Archon Direngr was a wily one, after all.

As Echar looked around, one of the warriors, a female, approached him, recognition in her eyes. Echar did not know the warrior, her dark green eyes and lips in stark contrast to her skin. As she walked past, she shot Echar a look of intrigue, and, unless Echar was mistaken, an aroused air of... lust? Echar was taken aback, having been focussed so completely on his training since he joined the Kabal, and not having come into contact with any women of note for a long time.

Echar struggled to control his emotions, and this conflict was clear in his face, as he tried, but ultimately failed, to mask his attraction. Closing his eyes, he tried to conceal it as just a shudder due to the touch of the blood, but he knew that the female would not be fooled, hoping only to cover the breach of control from other warriors that weren't quite as close.

It was only then that Echar realised quite how close the woman had come to him, sidling past at an unbearably slow rate. He swallowed, and then, steeling himself, spoke confidently:

*"I do not recognise you, fellow warrior, but you seem to know me. My name is Echar Drakthorn, but pray, fair one, tell me yours, so that I might address you properly,*" Echar said, pleased with how he sounded, passing off the speech as though it didn't matter to him at all. Hopefully he could mend his earlier failure to keep his feelings in check.


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## Santaire

Their new sybarite, Tyyrn just kept talking. Tormen was getting bored out of his skull with the constant droning of the man who was to be their leader. The only thing preventing him from leaping up and tearing the sybarite's throat out was the ornate splinter rifle propped next to him and the Agoniser whip strapped to his hip.

What a pleasure it would be to torture him, to have the only sound he makes be screams of pure agony. Stale blood dripped onto him, soothing him. A rivulet ran down his face and he licked it, rejoicing in the salty tang.

“Lord Direngr has been so kind as to share some of his wealth with his new warriors, relish, and be about yourselves,” the sybarite finished.

With that, Sybarite Tyyrn turned and walked out the room into his personal coven within the Spire of the Torturous Bite Kabal. From a rectangular black space in the ceiling above where he had stood come several grinding sounds of mechanization.

Three cages are lowered before the warriors, each one holding a fresh soul captive. They were already screaming with pain, for they were pinned in place within their cages. Once at eye level, the metal rods they were stabbed with emit large bolts of electricity, fluorescent purple light taking over the room.

Tormen drew his curved blade and pushed it between the bars of one of the cages, letting the blood drip onto it before bringing it back out. He licked the blade clean and his eyes lit up with ecstasy and joy. He sheathed the blade and walked away from the cages. All the while the agony of the mon-keigh rejuvenating and invigorating him

His long hair was bound in a pony tail and he had his helmet clipped to his belt. He unclipped it and raised it in his hands, examining it before slipping it over his head. Instantly his vision lit up with targeting vectors. He glanced around the room. There were nineteen other Dark Eldar in the room with him. He decided on the instant that he would have to kill all of them to achieve the position of Archon...


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## Karak The Unfaithful

*Draco*

Draco listened to every word Sybarite Tyyrn spoke, forgotting any useless knowledge but remembering all the important parts.

“Lord Direngr has been so kind as to share some of his wealth with his new warriors, relish, and be about yourselves.”

That was the most important part, power and wealth, that was all that truly mattered. When he stopped speaking Draco looked at the other warriors, only moving his eyes by seeing every one of them.
Echar, beither, Visarys, Nemele, Tormen.
Draco knew he would quickly find out more about these warriors are time went on, friend or foe they would all prove useful in his plans.

Tyyrn left, a strong warrior and their leader.
bah, his time would come.

Draco noticed the female Nemele go very close to Echar, he knew what she was trying to do, he had seen it so many times before. Obviously he had very little contact with women before, he spoke to her in a way that was clearer and more confident then Draco expected.
he seemed to weak in the knees around women, Draco noted.

he turned back, the rattle of chains and the crank of overworked machines filled his ears, the slave cages were lowered before them, the men and women inside already screaming. draco knelt down to his victim, a male with wide and fearful eyes. Slowly Draco removed his blade, it would taste blood again.
He moved like lightning, and before the human could react the blade had gone through his jaw and straight up into his brain. The human's eyes rolled back and he slumped to the ground, dead.

Then he stood and said aloud:"It is all very well killing a lessar human, but wouldn't it be more a test of skill if he were to be armed?"


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## BlackGuard

Xole felt the trickle, the _drip, drip, drip_ of the lukewarm liquid of blood upon the back of his neck. It felt exhilerating and painful in the same moment -- for each drip made him shutter slightly, and therefore make the barbs of his armor dig all the deeper into his flesh. His senses were alert and sharp as a result, and he did what he did best -- indulge himself. For all that he was no fool, he kept his ears attuned to the Sybarite's words listening to each of them and rolling them over in his mind. Their implications, their portent, and their usefulness. Irregardless of what he thought was useful and useless he retained the knowledge.

At any moment in the future someone's words could be turned back on them in a critical moment -- those words could be leaked into the ears of others or sold to those who need them. Xole listened closely as Sybarite Tyyrn spoke his last,

'Lord Direngr as been so kind as to share some of his wealth with his new warriors, relish, and be about yourselves.'

With that he turned about and walked out of the room. The clank of metal upon metal made Xole look up to see the steel-cages of slaves being lowered. As they settled upon the floor, he felt exhileration at the sound of the mon-keigh scream in terror moments before electricity surged through them. He rose slowly and looked about -- wanting to take a reading upon those around him. He felt the tug of his desires wanting him to indulge himself upon the mon-keighs, but he refained for now.

His eyes were immediately upon the female Nemele, as she walked, so alluring towards another of his kin. He felt lust and ecstacy surge through him, followed by bitterness and disappoint as she gave the overtly obvious glance of lust at his kin. Echar if he remembered correctly. He gritted his teeth and turned away -- he would have her for sure. He made a mental note -- he needed to kill Echar when the time came. The woman would be his. He felt no particular 'love' or 'concern' for the woman, her body merely caught his eye. Why should he not have her? Because of his low-status? Never, he would indulge in anything that caught his eye: slaughter, torture, sex, or otherwise.

He walked casually across the floor to slave cages and looked at the humans, screaming as their bodies were tortured without relent or mercy. 

He snarled, 'Maybe you'll take the edge away.'

Despite his desire to use his curved sword upon them, he could not. His mind was unfocused and he found no pleasure in their screams now. With a growl he looked over at where Tyyrn had went. Why should he refrain from speaking with him? With a snort he followed Tyyrn.

He would find him soon enough, 'My lord,' he said supplicantly. Always remain supplicant, never outshine the master.

'If I may lord, I have many questions.'


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## Serpion5

*Nemele*

Nemele suppressed a satisfied smirk at seeing the other cabalite`s reaction to her gaze. He truly was a dupe, to have been captivated so easily by a mere glance. She slid to a stop just past him, and could hear his breath intake. He was about to speak. Success.

'I do not recognise you, fellow warrior,' He began. 'But you seem to know me. My name is Echar Drakthorn, but pray, fair one, tell me yours, so that I might address you properly.' 

She turned and met his eyes with her own. He seemed to have composed himself now, obviously his training had kicked in and he would no doubt project an air of strength and superiority. Maybe the others would be fooled, but Nemele had seen his weakness, and she would milk it for all it was worth. 

'You can call me Nemele.' She whispered back to him, placing a hand gently on his chest. 'So, Echar... How is that such a strong warrior like you was claimed by such a low hanging thread on Commoragh`s food chain? Did you, say, make a mistake in your past? Were you betrayed and hounded here?' 

Nemele almost cracked at that word. Betrayal. It still hurt, to think that the "Mother" she had loved and served through her childhood would expect such a price of her, would expect her to simply discard her own life like that?! Suddenly, she realized she had lost focus. Shaking the image of that treacherous bitch from her mind, she shook her head slightly, sending ripples through her hair. 

In the background, one of the others issued a challenge. Arm the humans? Pointless. An armed human is still just a human. What good would a weapon do them? She put it from her mind and turned her attention back to... What was his name...? Echar, that`s right. 

'I wonder... if you and I could achieve something.' She said. Lowering her voice to a barely audible whisper, she leaned a little closer. 'These others, look at them. They no doubt plot and scheme, bereft of loyalty and trust. But you and I could be more. I see it in you, raw ambition, pure strength. Let me help you ascend the throne?' 

She took a small step backward, sliding her hand down his armour a little.


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## Lord Ramo

Tyaer'r listened vaguely to the ramblings of the "mighty" warrior that stood in front of the new recruits. He projected an air of superiority that Tyaer'r didn't recognise. Sure he was fairly high in the chain of command, his armour was ornate and his weapons looked deadly but Tyaer'r was sure that he was a fool really. She processed the information that he spun at the new recruits, realspace raid, the one thing Tyaer'r really wanted to do, to feel the screams and terror that they would cause, it caused a shiver of pleasure to drift down her spine and through her body.

Once he had finished he seemed to retreat from the room and three cages descended downwards, each with a human screaming as electric rods were impaled into them and they were shocked. Their screams was sweet music to Tyaer'r ears and she paced forward slowly, gracefully. Two of her fellow dark eldars seemed eager for bloodshed, one killing one of the humans. How neither of them seem to be effected by electricity that travelled down their metal blades drew a yawn out of Tyaer'r. They were no fun, killing the human so easily. 

Tyaer'r drew near to the third cage, a human male screamed as he was shocked. Without a moments hesitation Tyaer'r spoke softly her voice barely more than a whisper, purring, alluring, *"Look how weak you are, pitiful that you can't stand the most basic of torture. A shame really, it would be more fun if you could resist further."*
The man looked down on her, obviously in pain. Tyaer'r stepped around the cage to the back, drawing the blade she had used to kill her own mother. She loved this blade, it was death incarnate. Her mothers blade rested in its place at the curve in her back where it would soon be rejoined with hers.

Tyaer'r slowly reached through the cage, pausing for a second before slowly slicing through the tendons of the man's ankles. She shuddered in ecstasy as the electricity traveled down her blade, shocking her though she truely enjoyed it. He screamed as one of his legs gave way, his foot half hanging off. The amount of pain he was going through was music to the ears of Tyaer'r and she slowly, careful not to mix her blood with that of the humans licked along the edge of the blade.

*"A fine bouquet, not quite as nice as those of my kin but then again you Mon'Keigh aren't as fun to hunt as my kin."* She whispered once more returning the blade to her back. She strutted away taking in those who she would be fighting with. A mixture of half breeds and true borns. The true borns would be a challenge though she thought nothing of the half breeds. She one other female warrior conversing with a male warrior, obviously trying to enlist his support with her body. Fool, she wasn't subtle enough, surely the warrior wouldn't be that easily convinced. Maybe he would be, he may be a complete fool. For now the Trueborn Tyaer'r moved to one of the walls, content to watch what unfolded in font of her.

She had enjoyed the humans suffering and looked as he screamed profanities at her now that she was in his eye line again. She merely winked at him, a wicked smile spreading across her features. She was practiced in getting what she wanted, and had used her body before to achieve it. For now she would measure up her opponents before striking. She crossed her arms, her facial expression settling on bored, a disguise to the excitement she felt welling up inside her, threatening to bust forth.


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## Karak The Unfaithful

Draco sat back, his human was dead and the blood was covering the floor.
He took this moment to examine the other warriors in the room. murderers, traditors, thvies, phycopaths. They were all different.
However, they all shared one common trait within the dark eldar race.
Ambition.
All of the eldar here wanted to rise to the top and he knew they would kill him given half a chance. Some of them looked at him but Draco didn't think they cared much about him, they underestimated him, a mistake.
Whatever foe you are presented with you should never underestimate, they could have an ace up their sleeve.
lets see... Draco thought.

Nemele, trying to seduce the others, but did Draco notice some emotional pain? how strange.
Visarys, he seemed to enjoy the pain inflicted upon the human.
Echar, trying to resist nemele and he seemed to failing. Draco shook his head.
Tormen, a schemer and a plotter. Darco could tell, because he was one too.
Xole, talking to Tyyrn, something about questions? he had a curious nature.
Tyaer'r, like nemele he thought, nothing else of interest.

Draco decided he would have to keep his guard up at all times. but, right now, he needed something to kill. Draco remained seated but said:
"Its very nice, sitting here with nothing to do. when do we start the raid?"


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## Lord of the Night

Visarys gently snickered at the chatter around him, each one of them was like an open book with a permanently visible index of reference. *Tormen*, his silence meant he was a fellow schemer yet his gaze never lingered on a single one of the group, he merited watching. *Draco*, watching them all with self-assured intelligence gleaming in his eyes, another one to watch carefully. The silent ones were always those with plans, and who wouldn't make a move unless everything was in their court, Visarys despised them, only those who gambled would be victorious. And that was why he, who never feared to be bold and take risks, would be the sole survivor of this rabble that called themselves warriors, likely none of them having truly faced battle on the wild streets of Lower Commorragh, leapt from rooftop to rooftop in Middle Commorragh or even seen an alien before, granted he had only seen the mercenary exiles that made Null Town their home.

Two drew his subtle attention, both females but not for their bodies, which one was making painfully obvious. Trueborns. He suppressed a sneer at the sight of them, particularly the one likely about to disrobe, he then found his smirk again, though it had never left his face. The hideously unsubtle one, *Nemele* he guessed, was good at what she was doing, nobody got that good unless they had experience at such a thing. Visarys's malicious thoughts of different possibilities mingled with the suffering of the rapidly dying slave, he was careful never to take his eyes from him but rather to listen through the room, he could tell the positions of everyone through their voices and the sound of their movements. The male that she was drawing to her, *Echar* or something similar sounding, was either a brilliant actor or a fool, Visarys guessed the latter, if honeyed words dipped in poison were enough to sway him then he wouldn't last minutes here.

"If you wish to take him right here do not allow us to stop you," Visarys said very clearly and loudly, making sure that the flirtatious female and her unfortunate mark could hear him, his words laced with sarcasm. "Though if spreading your thighs in such a tight crowded room bothers you perhaps the Sybarite would be willing to vacate his quarters for your little tryst."

Satisfied with his barb Visarys took in the final members of the room. The second female, another Trueborn named *Tyaer'r*, was the very picture of a Trueborn. Arrogant and assured that their very births made them the next Asdrubael Vect or Aurelia Malys, they were never to be underestimated, no Dark Eldar was, but they were not the sort you watched out at the cost of watching other, more impressive enemies. They were predictable in that they used their birthrights as a weapon, and rarely had original ideas that their parents didn't give them, but they could be dangerous and merited wariness, for now. The final one, *Xole*, had left for the Sybarite's chambers, seeking knowledge, or to flatter him like a Craftworld maiden for favor. If it was the former he merited watching, if not he wasn't worth as much attention, sycophants rarely were, until they struck.

As the slave died Visarys sighed softly, though he felt no boredom. The room was likely about to liven up.


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## BlackApostleVilhelm

Talic was crouched in front of one of the cages, his head cocked to the side as he watched the human inside writhe in pain from the torture, he soaked it up and bathed in it. He had already pegged the True-Born that were in the room, he would keep a close eye on all of them, just in case he came across the need or.....want to kill any of them during his stay with this kabal. As the human reached the extent of its pain thresh hold Talic stuck his hand in the cage and stroked its face with one finger, catching a drop of blood coming from its nose, as the human died he pulled his hand back out and gently licked the blood with his finger.

Weak. The blood of his kin was so much better, but alas this would have to last for now. He turned around but stayed crouched as he examined everyone in the room, weak points in their armor, fatal personality flaws, the whole thing. One of the True-born, a female, was strutting around with the same damned arrogance that all of them had while another female attempted to seduce one of the warriors, he was a fool if he fell for that half-assed attempt. 

Talic did not get up, nor did he bother to go and talk to the others, he trusted none of them and only saw them as tools or obstacles in his way to gaining the training that he wanted. He pulled one of his knives out and began running his tongue along it as he watched the others, he was bored and he wanted to kill something, hopefully the Archon would send him on a mission to kill someone in the Impassioned Kabal.


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## Farseer Darvaleth

The female had responded to Echar's request, and turned to face him. Her dark green eyes looked directly into his blue ones, the two pairs locked together. She raised her hand, slowly, excruciatingly slowly, towards his chest, before resting it there, touching his armoured plates. She spoke in a soft, honeyed voice, drawing Echar in.

Her name was Nemele. The name echoed through Echar's skull, reverberating like a gong-smash. It slipped along her tongue like quicksilver, and already Echar had swallowed it up. But Nemele wasn't finished. Her hand pressed gently against Echar as she spoke:

_"So, Echar... How is that such a strong warrior like you was claimed by such a low hanging thread on Commoragh`s food chain? Did you, say, make a mistake in your past? Were you betrayed and hounded here?"_

Bitter memories resurfaced, temporarily suffusing Echar. He became blind to the present, yet also immune to Nemele's charm. At least for the moment.

*"I have no past," *Echar said, bitterly, *"I raised myself out of the gutter, out of nothing. I joined the Kabal as soon as I was able. I trained there for most of my life. Now, I have passed and am a warrior. I have not fallen down the chain, I just have yet to rise."* Echar said, suddenly snapping back into focus.

Nemele leaned forward again, her whispers intoxicating,

_'I wonder... if you and I could achieve something.'_ 

Echar was listening eagerly. First she approaches him, almost flirts with him, now she wants to join him, and rise together?

'_These others, look at them. They no doubt plot and scheme, bereft of loyalty and trust. But you and I could be more. I see it in you, raw ambition, pure strength. Let me help you ascend the throne?' _

Echar's fire was truly lit. Nemele was a gift from Khaine himself.

Echar was about to speak, when Nemele's hand slid down his armour a little lower, stalling him. Echar struggled with the urge to grasp that hand, to grasp Nemele, feel her flesh against his... Echar quickly steeled himself again and spoke:

*"You will not find my ambition lacking. I intend to become the ultimate warrior. No foe will be able to match me, no enemy able to contest my strength. I will be like a god on the battlefield, the champion of Khaine himself," *Echar said powerfully, forgetting in the heat of the moment that the Dark Eldar did not worship Khaine as he did, "*I will conquer any enemy, with you at my side." *finished Echar, his proud warrior-spirit flaring and giving him confidence and utter self-conviction. 

Nemele's reaction was yet to be seen, however.

EDIT: [Woops sorry Lord of the Night] Echar's head snapped around as one of the nearby warriors threw a cruel barb in his direction. Echar wasn't worried about that, he had developed a thick skin and was near-immune to insult, though woe-betide those who did manage to find his sensitive spot, but Echar was worried about Nemele. She was being pictured as a total whore, and that might put her off a little. Echar tried to turn her head away from the mocking eldar with his hand, whispering softly, this time into her ear:

*"Don't bother with them, Nemele. They don't have the future we hold, they can never have it." *


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## komanko

OOC: Sorry if thats a little long.

Thal looked around, nine teen warriors, all part of the squad that he will serve in, they all kneeled down exactly as he did when their Sybarite, Tyyrn was his name, spoke. Thal did not know any of the warriors around him, there were a few females around them yet most of the warriors were males, this fact changed nothing though, the females were just as dangerous as the males… All of that did not matter now as the Sybarite began to speak and this demanded Thal’s attention. 

The sybarite himself was a rather impressive figure, for one of such a lowly rank, a sybarite was no better rank then the one of a warrior, it was rather low in the chain of command and most of the sybarites did not get any special privileges. Sybarites were simple a tool which controlled the squad of warriors that they were attached too, they were warriors themselves, just more distinguished and experienced then the rest of them. 

Tyyrn stood right against the wall between two low lighting torches, the flames flickered on his armor creating a nice pattern of color which complimented his armor and made it look more impressive. The simple black armor was highlighted with a dark red color which came from the dancing flames behind it. A horned black helm was held by the Sybarite, its eyes glowing in an eerie dark orange color which was clearly supposed to instill fear at the enemy. A belt made out of chains was wrapped around Tyyrn’s waist and to it were attached two of his weapons, a simple splinter pistol, a standard issue one, the same that many Dark Eldar used, yet on the opposite side was strapped an agonizer whip, a dangerous tool in the right hands, Thal did not believe that the Sybarite was capable of controlling the whip with real skill, he probably wielded it just to show his authority and to look more menacing. Yet nonetheless this was a dangerous weapon, it allowed the wielder to battle in close combat from afar, thus gaining the upper hand by striking at the enemy yet still keeping him in distance but it could easily be disarmed by an attacker who dual wields a weapon. Another of his weapons was easily seen, an ornate splinter rifle which anyone could tell saw a lot of action, to the rifle was attached what looked like a crude and brutal bayonet. Along with those three seeable weapons, Tyyrn also had a phantasm grenade launcher connected to the back of his armor just in case that he might need it. These weapons made the Sybarite a worthy foe and not an easy target.

Tyrrn himself exactly the average Dark Eldar, agile and nimble yet muscular at the same time, like may Dark Eldar he had long hair which he kept tied in a tail which reached just down between his shoulder blades, a notable feature which distinguished him from everyone else in the room was that an alien canine was pierced through each of his cheeks. “*Show off*…” Thal thought to himself when he noted those canine pierces. From the look of him Thal got the feeling that this Sybarite was full of himself, he felt high and mighty around the “lowly warriors” which he led, he’s only concern was probably his own life, he was proud as it could be seen from his straight as an arrow stance, yet Dark Eldar were deceitful and the Sybarite could’ve simply confused Thal with how he looks and acts. Everything he thought was an assumption and thus it was not to be trusted.

A chill ran down his spine and distracted him while he scoured the Sybarite; he slowly and quietly sniffed the air, solid smell, easily detectable, blood. Blood was dripping from the ceiling, slowly falling on each of the warriors. Thal eagerly awaited the first drop to fall on top of him and soon it came, a single droplet, it fell on his neck sending even stronger chills down his spine, rejuvenating him, making him stronger, sending waves of warm feeling across his body. It was an immense pleasure, one that no Dark Eldar could refuse, not easily at least. Yet ones again he realized that he had to listen to his Sybarites words and note everything he says.

“*I am sure you have all heard rumor by now that the Torturous Bite will be conducting a realspace raid in the near future. It is true.*” This were great news, these were only rumors that heard while listening to the banter of some recruits, but he never imagined that those rumors had any real basis so he ignored most of them. The thought of a realspace raid slowly coursed through his mind, igniting his excitement and eagerness. His mind was already a drift with the possibilities of the foes that he will encounter, stances, forms of battle, simulations of tactics, they all popped into his mind while thinking of the realspace raid but then the Sybarite continued speaking cutting Thal’s stream of imagination.

“*This will be the first realspace raid since the founding of the Kabal. Therefore I should let you all know, we do not want the weak with us.*” This was obvious; no one wanted the weak at his side when a decisive battle arrives. The weak are those who run away from a battle that can be one, the weak are those who cannot strike the final blow on a dying foe, those weak weeds must be culled out or they will simply bring an end to the fledgling Kabal. Thal looked around, scouring the faces of those who did not wear their helm; none showed emotion which was good, a sign for a stronger breed. It did not matter if they were half - born or true – born, they were all warriors and if they proved to be worthy advisories and mighty warriors then they are not weak.

Thal continued to listen to the Sybarite’s words, “*Archon Direngr’s target is an impressive one, and our new numbers are double that which was expected, largely due to the support that Lord Direngr has managed to obtain from the Kabal of the Flayed Skull.*” The larger the numbers, the bigger the amount of cannon fodder which they had to spend, Thal amusingly noted, yet a weakness was spotted in the Archon’s plan of recruitment, the Torturous Bite was a fledgling Kabal, and relaying on help from other Kabals so early on was a grave mistake, this will mark the Bite as a weak Kabal which relies on others to succeed and this can possibly shorten the life of the Kabal itself, unless this was used intentionally just to trick the other Kabals to believe in the Bite’s weakness. “*The Archon might prove that he is not a complete idiot after all*…” Thal noted to himself.

“*Our bitter rivals, The Impassioned, will undoubtedly be trying to sabotage our efforts. Rest assured, they will likely weed out as many of our unfit warriors as we will, if not more so.*” This was relatively obvious; the Impassioned hated the Bite deeply due to their tied histories. If they could only sabotage the Kabal by weeding out the weak then it was an advantage that should be used as it would make the Bite’s job easier.

“*Our Kabal’s prestige and influence relies completely on this realspace raid. Debts will be paid off, relationships strengthened, and most of all, the weight of our title will increase tenfold*.” Foolish naïve bastard, Thal was now sure of the Sybarite’s stupidity, the raid may make them richer but it would never strengthen relationships, it will only hamper then Kabal’s ability to advance unnoticed. The raid will only draw unnecessary attention to the fledgling Kabal which will probably result in another Kabal tried to subdue it. It was true, their title will increase tenfold maybe even twentyfold but the danger will increase twice the amount their title does.

“*I suggest that each of you try to do the same for yourselves in the time between now and the Kabal’s departure in two weeks. Being some of the newest members of the Kabal, your names currently mean nothing. The weight of your title is nothing, the weight of your purse is nothing. Obtain these, and the first realspace raid of the Torturous Bite will bring back opportunity in all its forms*.” It was a rather ironic statement from a Sybarite, it was obvious that his name and purse were worth nearly as much as theirs yet he kept holding himself above them by some unknown divine right. Foolishness, a man should know his situation and position and not act like something he is not, Tyrrn acted like he was the Archon himself and this created an urge down in Thal’s mind to simply step up and stab the prick right between these armor plates of his, cutting half the way through his body and his vital organs and then simply leaving him to die choking on his own blood while desperately trying to grasp for air yet unable due to his destroyed lounges. Calming himself down Thal simply continued kneeling showing no emotion and awaiting the proud fool to finish his speech.

“*Lord Direngr has been so kind as to share some of his wealth with his new warriors, relish, and be about yourselves.*” As the Sybarite said those words a creaking sound came from the ceiling and three cages were slowly lowered down, while that was happening Tyrrn turned his back on the warriors and walked towards his private quarters within the spire of the Torturous Bite Kabal. Turning his attention back to the cages Thal saw the items which were inside, in each cage a human struggled in pain, screaming and writhing in agony. As the cages came down to eye level the metal rods which the humans were already skewed upon powered up with large bolts of dark purple electricity, at the same moment that this happened the prisoners screams intensified tenfold as they experienced an amount of punishment which no human could withstand for long.

The slaves distracted some of the warriors, none of them were known to Thal and Thal was not known to any of them and it was better this way, standing up in a perfectly balanced stance Thal looked around, the Dark Eldar around him were doing the same, learning each and every one of their potential enemies and temporary allies. One Dark Eldar caught his eye as he simply walked away from everyone and after the Sybarite… Probably wishing to speak with him or ask him questions, this was a good general idea if the Sybarite was one who easily trusted others and Thal certainly did not believe in that.

Another peculiar sight was that one of the females already approached another male, trying to grab him by his desire, and she seemed to be quite successful at that. A true whore she was, using her body language, whispering near the warrior’s ear, probably promising him that they can do everything together. It was funny to watch especially when Thal noted that the warrior was falling in the temptresses trap. Weak… This was the only word that came to his mind as he observed this sight. One of the warriors shouted something towards the pair, mocking them yet they seemed to pay no attention at all still minding their own business.

Having nothing better to do Thal approached one of the cages, he looked at the male inside, he was beaten up, desperate yet his will remained strong, he really believed that he could resist the pain. Unsheathing his smooth edged sword Thal pointed it at the human; he then raised the man’s head with the help of his sword, careful not to stab him. “*Human*!” He said, getting the slaves attention. “*Survive this, and I’ll grant you a quick death if we shall meet again*.” Thal was amused at the thought of the human surviving this torture and Thal granting him a quick death. He wanted to see how strong the will of a beast to live can be…

Turning around from the cage he walked to the other side of the room where a large empty space was, his sword still unsheathed in his hand, he had no idea what was expected from him now, thus he began practicing his battle forms, not wasting the precious time that he had on mindless babbling with other warriors or useless pleasures that could be his anytime during the upcoming raid. He had to be ready and able when the time to fight comes, and he knew that he will be.


----------



## emporershand89

(OCC: Sorry, was out this weekend, time to introduce myself.)

Beithir stood in the room as the cages were lower in front of each warrior. It was all well and good that her new master, Tryyn had decided to share some of the Archon's wealth; but it seemed that something else was behind this, something much more sidious. A test; Beither could smell the fact that she was being tested. The Archon was probably testing to see if the warriors could react well together, and if they were extremely caught up in there dark pleasures. On her part Beither wasn;t soo easily fooled as the rest apprently were.

Look around the room she was highly displeased with the new group she was working with. She saw two other females, and both disgusted her. One was selling herself as a whore; so cheap and easy to draw men out, she was dangerous and might need to be removed. the other just stood there, and Beithir couldn't tell if she was a potential ally or not. Either way, in terms of gender, her options were non-existent. 

As she looked at the men, they also seemed to disgust her. One was falling for Neimele, was that her name, so easily he might as well have been a virgin; pathetic. the others were relishing too deeply in the dark pleasures before getting destroyed. However there were two that showed promise, one that she liked in particular. The warrior who called himself Draco seemed to long for battle, and this Beithir liked. she was a women of action, enjoying fair fights and feats of skill rather than these pathetic lame politics and pleasure seeking Slaneeshy fucks. He seemed potentially usful, though she didn't know how.

Yet one stood out amoungst them all; Thal! He was tall, strong, light on his feet, and driven. his dark eyes seemed to call to her, his blade a masterpeice, and his skin sooooooo white it was almost alluring. She was drawn to him, both physically and mentally, as a hunter is drawn to it's prey. He seemed to be goal driven too, for instead of relsihing in his gifts torment, he killed it quickly and moved off to practice for the inevitable battle ahead of them. she liked him, alot; she might even want to get to know him. Unlike most Dark Eldar, Beithir was emotional, and the emotion called love still existed in her heart; for now.

As her mind drifted she turned her attention onto the cage in front of her. It was a Mon'Kiegh male, writhering in pain as the spike in her chest sent shock waves through her body. "You look pitefull; you know that," she said to the thing. "You Mon'Kiegh cannot even keep yourselves safe from us, how can you ever hope to escape our coming empire."

She grabbed the creature down there, then used her spikes armored hands to rip it down middle the ; enjoying the screams the creature made. It spasmed, half in ecstasy and half in pain, and started to go into shock from the loss of blood. 

Walking off in disgust and not caring if it lived or not, Beithir intentionally position herself alittle ways away from Thal and started to practice her deadly arts; making sure he could see it


----------



## Karak The Unfaithful

Well, well, well Draco thought. Echar fell for her lies, Draco found this funny. How could anyone be won over so easily? Nemele did almost nothing and now Echar was eating out of her hand.
saves me the trouble, he thought.
Visarys insulted him but Echar resisted him, Draco found this quite funny.
Then he noticed two more warriors he had not yet spotted, a female and another male. Beithir and Thal, yes that was their names.
Draco watched them closely, Thal left his human to be tortured but began to practice his combat skills. how amusing.
But the female, Beithir seemed to be drawn to Thal, Draco had seen a similar thing but that was a long time ago.
This is what Draco did: observe his opponents, a skill that Draco had mastered over many years, then strike at the right time when they least expected it.

An ally would be a useful asset but until he learned more about them they would all be considered enemies.


----------



## unxpekted22

(there was some misconception about Nemele in the posts, she is a halfborn)

All three slaves lay dead in their cages, but the electricity has not yet stopped. A few slight moments pass while everyone continues their conversations, or observations.

Without warning, Draco flies to the ground, his face smashing into the floor. Two warriors hold him down as one plunges a knife into the back of his shoulder, while four more remain standing guarding their apparent allies with splinter rifles that were nowhere to be seen moments before. Their rifles pan over each of you but remain silent.

It quickly becomes apparent that four of these six warriors are four of the five that were kneeling with you in the presence of Tyyrn who have been in the Kabal since its creation; none of you see the fifth one but there are still twenty warriors in the room including yourself. 

The warrior still twisting the knife around in Draco’s back says aloud, _“*Damn halfborn!* We were enjoying that slave’s suffering! Who told you that you could kill it! Were you born in your vat *yesterday?*”_ The phlegm gurgling in his throat from anger is quite apparent to your ears. This warrior has short but naturally spiky black hair. The skin of his cheeks appears extremely thin and stretched, making it look like if it were any thinner you could see the side rows of his teeth. He wears black armor that has dark orange highlights.

The other holding Draco down wears black armor with a multitude of purple symbols painted onto it. His face is covered in tattoo markings of the same type. The top of his hair is short and the rest is pulled back into three separate braids. One of the two standing up has black armor with blue highlights of a medium hue and several symbols of the kabal about him. He has good sized hooks piercing his ear lobes and a symmetrically curved one through his nostrils. He also has small spikes sprouting from his chin, jaw, and neck. His head is clean shaven. The other one standing up holding a splinter rifle wears dark green armor, His black hair is in a top knot and he has reptilian eyes. 

The other two warriors each have their helmets on and have much less defining features, this tells you they are as new to the kabal as you are, but right now they both have a splinter rifle in their hands and none of you have yours. However, you do all have your close combat weapons on you. 

This is all in the center of the room.

Draco: you will feel the knife slide across the tissues in a reverse motion over your shoulder muscles, surrounded and lubricated with your warm pools of blood, and you know this means he is pulling the knife out to stab you again. With his shift in weight you will be able to get your right arm free. The two standing veteran warriors will be to your front and rear, the other two standing will be to your left and right. In your post you cannot actually commit any action at this time other than speech, you must post what your ‘plan’ is so to speak. Your outcome will depend on the actions of others as well.

Everyone else in the room: Again pretty free reign here, that’s how I am going to try and keep it. There are you eight, Draco on the floor, the six warriors on him, and four others still in the room, Xole and Tyyrn in the next room over. You can try to help Draco (in which case state what your plan is and in the next update I will have those actions occur and what the outcomes will be), you can openly side with the veterans who are pinning draco down, you can simply continue to observe and plot, or even ignore it and continue or begin conversations. 

Xole: as you follow Tyyrn through the doorway you are covered in shadow and you realize just how quickly Tyyrn can apparently move as you call out saying, “My Lord.” With no response you continue into the dark chamber until you see a dull blue light filling a smoky room. Tyyrn stands with his arms crossed, and this is when you ask, “If I may my Lord I have many questions.”

As soon as you speak one of the larger shadows in the already dark room slithers away with haste, but you never see what had been making it. Tyyrn looks up toward you from the circular center of the room below, with a heavy breath he says, “Then approach me, and ask.”

With this you hear a loud noise come from the room where your fellow warriors still are, your ears can tell for certain that its some kind of violent physical contact. Tyyrn won’t mind if you go back.


----------



## Serpion5

*Nemele*

A barb from one of the others drew Echar`s attention from Nemele, and for a moment she saw genuine anger flicker through his eyes. 

'Don't bother with them, Nemele. They don't have the future we hold, they can never have it.' He said to her. 

_What?_ She wondered. _Why would he stick up for another? Does he actually... Buy this?_ It was difficult to believe that Echar had placed such trust in her. She doubted he would truly trust her, at least not yet, but that was still a surprising remark, from one she had just met. 

She was silent for a few moments, puzzled by this show of... what was the word... _Loyalty?_ She had known that once, or rather she had known an illusion of it... 

A sudden commotion drew Nemele`s attention from Echar, and she turned to look. Almost instantly and reflexively she darted aside, realizing with trepidation she had exposed her back to the other kabalite. 

_Why would I do that?_ She thought, swiftly falling into a steady stride and maskin her sudden movement as best she could. She shot a glance at Echar, before turning back to the ruffle in the centre of the room. Oh well, it looked as though she was interested so she now had to play out the charade and pretend that she was. Two of the warriors had pinned another to the ground, and two more had rifles levelled. 

'Come now!' She called. 'Surely we Halfborns are not all that bad?' 

_Oh, by the muses was this a mistake..._ She thought to herself. She took another step towards the group in the middle. One of them raised a rifle to her and shook his head. The one pinning their fellow kabalite to the ground was an ugly brute to say the least, for some reason thinking tight skin was a good look. The other didn`t even deign to look at her. 

She looked back at the one pointing the gun at her. Well, she`d stuck her face in another`s business already, might as well make a name for herself... 

'Oh come on.' She said, hands open in a sign of peace. 'Surely three little humans is nothing compared to what we`re about to accomplish? Just relax, remember the back you stab today could be the one stabbing you in the future?' 

_Or saving your life..._ She added silently to herself. In truth, she had no idea how this would play out, but saving a life usually resulted in nothing but enemies. Oh well. That would just have to be dealt with later...


----------



## Karak The Unfaithful

Draco lay on the floor, he felt the knife in his shoulder come free and the blood seep out.
*
“Damn halfborn! We were enjoying that slave’s suffering! Who told you that you could kill it! Were you born in your vat yesterday?” *

Draco resisted the insult "*scared of the sight of blood are we 'my lord'?*" he felt one of the larger warriors kick him in the side, winding him for a moment.

*
'Come now!' She called. 'Surely we Halfborns are not all that bad?' *

How strange, he thought. why would anyone do anything to help him? he thought about this again, half the warriors in the room were half borns maybe he could work this to his advantage.
*"He thinks that he can simply relax and pleasure himself while everyone else does the work!"* Draco shouted, then looked a Nemele* "Surely we all deserve some sort of freedom?"* The pain in shoulder was growing now and he realised he could get his arm free and reach for his blade if he wished.
*"what is one pathetic human when you can torture entire populations?"* Draco grinned *"Or is Tyyrn too pathetic to complete such a task?"*

As soon as the warriors were distracted or let their guard down he would stab the closest one in the gut.


----------



## dark angel

Elammakil, eyes shadowed by kohl, face hidden in the folds of a burgundy robe, listened to Tyyrn with careful, meticulous attention. His armour had gained a magnificent, glassy sheen to it in the flickering torchlight, which ebbed and danced across the interlocking plates in a macabre display. Elammakil, familiar with the Kabal’s hierarchy, knew of Tyyrn well. He was a capable Sybarite; he was utterly loyal to his Uncle’s cause. 

A narrow, grim, smile spread across Elammakil’s elaborate features. His Uncle’s popularity was unwavering, though even he understood that within the fickle structure of a Kabal, conspiracy was rife. Of course, Elammakil cared little. _If _Uncle was out of the way, then Elammakil’s chances at becoming Archon increased tenfold. Still, despite the blood relations, there was more deserving Dark-Kin. Elammakil understood this better than anyone, and he relished the fact that treachery would worm its’ corrupt way into the Kabal’s heart. 

When Tyyrn was done, a series of loud, mechanical clanks echoed around the room. Cages, filled with emaciated, tight-skinned Monkeigh, shivering with fear. Predatory strides, eager, selfish, carried several of the Dark Eldar to the cages.

‘Pathetic,’ Noted Elammakil, not bothering to stand. These leprous beings were not worth his time; Elammakil understanding that despite Tyyrn’s words, these were his Uncle’s most undesirable of possessions. ‘Humanity is the least pleasurable of the Galaxy’s races.’

There was a lyrical undertone to his words, forcing his tonal to become smooth, relaxing. He noted the weaknesses and strengths of the others, learning their features, listening sharply to their words. One, whose name escaped Elammakil, either because it was unimportant or simply because Elammakil’s did not care, was groveling at the feet of another whore-wench. It was a sign of weakness, deplorable. 

A long, slithery tongue ran along his lips. He tasted nothing – His lips forever sterilized, or so, Elammakil ultimately wished for. Taste, and subsequently greed, made an Eldar weak. The Empire had collapsed through decadence and greed, and now it was a shattered remnant of its former glory. The schism was one of greatness, which had lead into the Dark Eldar’s current state of prosperity. He watched the Sybarite leave, trailed closely by another of Elammakil’s brethren, an Half-breed. 

Elammakil’s robes folded back into his armour, his silver hair falling free. Long, powerful strides brought him to the entranceway of Tyyrn’s chambers, and he placed one hand against the obsidian wall. 

‘Sybarite,’ He called, voice strong, enforcing. ‘I demand to see my Uncle, it contains matter of utter importance.’


----------



## Farseer Darvaleth

Echar's head snapped around as he heard a violent scuffle. A group of warriors had pinned down a fellow kabalite, their splinter rifles sweeping the room as their leader, a great brute, stabbed his knife into the back of another. Tracing his eyes from their original position, Echar realised the warrior had struck from behind. Echar held back the urge to spit, angry that such an insult to Khaine had been made in front of him. Blood spilt from a hidden dagger, with no chance of retaliation. Echar's mind flashed back to when he had been abandoned in panic, the Incubi who had slaughtered those who carried weapons against them, but leaving him, defenceless as he was. This was not the way battle should be conducted.

Restraining the urge to draw his blade, Echar moved forwards, with Nemele also.

*"Do you not think before you stab a fellow warrior?"* asked Echar, standing at a non-threatening distance. *"You would kill him because he ended the life of a human who you were gaining pleasure from? That is why?"* Echar said, before explaining himself.

*"If our kabal is so new, and its fate rests entirely on this first raid, is weakening our forces with infighting going to do us any favours? Hmm? No, it won't."* said Echar, boldly pointing his finger at the overly-aggressive attacker, *"But why does this matter to you, here and now? It matters because if you continue killing your damned allies before the raid, then the raid will not succeed, we will not return laden with plunder or slaves, and so your short-sighted and anger-fuelled rage-kill will only have succeeded in assuring you will not get any more human slaves to "enjoy". You are damning yourself with your in-ability to think ahead."* Echar concluded, stepping back a fraction.

_And that is all without factoring in your cowardly means to the idiotic end you so strive for,_ thought Echar, bitterly.


----------



## Santaire

Tormen looked up as the sound of a blade being drawn echoed through the room. He drew his own on instinct. There were some veteran warriors attacking another, younger one. The younger warrior, Draco, was on the floor bleeding from a series of wounds caused by the veterans around him. “Damn halfborn! We were enjoying that slave’s suffering! Who told you that you could kill it! Were you born in your vat yesterday?” they shouted at him.

A voice called 'Come now! Surely we Halfborns are not all that bad?' and Tormen turned to see a beatiful Dark Eldar female striding towards them. At the same time a Dark Eldar who had stepped forward beside her called "Do you not think before you stab a fellow warrior? You would kill him because he ended the life of a human who you were gaining pleasure from? That is why?" the warrior, whose name was Echar said, before explaining himself.

"If our kabal is so new, and its fate rests entirely on this first raid, is weakening our forces with infighting going to do us any favours? Hmm? No, it won't." said Echar, boldly pointing his finger at the overly-aggressive attacker, "But why does this matter to you, here and now? It matters because if you continue killing your damned allies before the raid, then the raid will not succeed, we will not return laden with plunder or slaves, and so your short-sighted and anger-fuelled rage-kill will only have succeeded in assuring you will not get any more human slaves to "enjoy". You are damning yourself with your in-ability to think ahead." The warrior concluded, stepping back a fraction.

Although Draco and Echar did not insult the warriors around him Tormen could not resist the opportunity. "Or are you scared of the sight of blood, mighty warriors?" he said sarcastically.

One of them growled and stepped towards him, blade drawn. Tormen lunged...


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Talic did not move at all, he remained perfectly still as he carefully watched the six warriors surround Draco, they were True-Born. He could feel the hatred rising up in his chest at the thought of another Half-Born being downtrodden by the pompous and arrogant upper class of their people. He slowly pulled his other knife out as he planned his attack, he had killed six eldar before, granted they were not pointing rifles at him but as far as he knew at least two of the ones standing were new so he would capitalize on this. 

One of the newer warriors was looking in his general direction, he wasnt sure if he was looking at him or not but for the sake of things he assumed he was. First he would get as close to the rookie as possible while speaking with him about how he wanted to join in in Draco's torture. Once he got close enough he would plunge one of his knives into his neck while at the same time turning the warrior around so that if he managed to fire his rifle he would hit the others hopefully. 

After that he did not really know what to do but he was sure at least one of the warriors on Draco would get hit and that the others would move into action once he did, so he was not worried. He spotted the weak spot in the neck joint that he was going to aim for once he got close enough and spoke as he started to approach the warrior,* "Might I join you?"* was all he asked as he got closer and closer to the warrior, his tongue licked his lips as he stared down at Draco with a hunger for blood. As he leaned his body toward Draco he hoped that the warrior would be stupid enough to fall for his lust of blood and allow him to get closer so that he could end his life.


----------



## Karak The Unfaithful

Two more warriors came up to Draco and the true-borns
_great_ he thought, now was not the time for more warriors to come and try and kill him

If he just get his blade...

Talic came up to the other warriors behind a rookie true-born
*"Might I join you?"* he said

Draco would find a way out of this, and when he did...
...he would have a few things to say...

But then Tormen lunged for a true-born

If he could just get his blade...


----------



## emporershand89

Beithir swung left, reversed,and brought her sword over in a double strike that would eviscerate any opponent she had. she then twirled in a defensive pattern as she took two steps forward, ending up in the Striking Serpent form with the sword flat bove her head. she looked up at thal, but if he noticed he didn't sow it; very disappointing. She had hoped.....

Sh turned as she suddenly ntoiced the commotion going on in the center of the room it appeared that a fellow Half-born had been pinned down and stabbed by some True-born warriors that were unhappy at him. she didn't care what the reason was, only that if these men were stupid enough to fight before they had even taken spoils and captives they deserved to be........eliminated.

"Surely three little humans is nothing compared to what we`re about to accomplish? Just relax, remember the back you stab today could be the one stabbing you in the future?" Beithir looked to the source to see the Nemele woman walk out, hands in a gesture of peace. however, he left hand fluttered near her sword, or was it a knife, Beithir couldn't tell but she could see that she was more dangerous than she had eventually judge.

Suddenly another warrior walked forward saying, " "But why does this matter to you, here and now? It matters because if you continue killing your damned allies before the raid, then the raid will not succeed, we will not return laden with plunder or slaves, and so your short-sighted and anger-fuelled rage-kill will only have succeeded in assuring you will not get any more human slaves to "enjoy". You are damning yourself with your in-ability to think ahead." echar had joined in, trying to persuade the group to stand down from their current path. _OOOHHHH, i like him, thats what you call reason, not, hahaha. _She giggled in her mind, but she quickly returned to focus; picking her side of this fight.

She picked up her sword and walked over from the left side, directly behind the warrior pointing the weapon at Draco. "Why are you all so eager for blood, we have ye to kill a single enemy, take a single captive, enjoy a single session of torture and your already at each others throats?"

The warrior looked up at her over his shoulder, but he didn't reply, so Beithir took a step back placing herself in a gaurd stance, hand on her sword, angry expressionspilling across her features. "Son, if you wish to live, then you will lower that weapon. If you contiue pointing that at him, I will cut off your hand and then your head, make your choice!"

(OCC: Just waiting for the word and I kill this guy):music:


----------



## Lord of the Night

The abject lack of reprisal almost saddened Visarys, he had been anticipating an all-out verbal sparring match, but the whore and her mark were too absorbed with each other to bite back, he scoffed at them and their weakness as he absorbed the last dying embers of the slave's soul. Sighing he shrugged his shoulders imperceptibly and exhaled the breath he had been holding in, though it was no match for the rush of a true foe bested the sensuous kiss of a slave's last moments on his withered soul was still something he enjoyed, for now. It seemed as if the room would be dull for the entire duration of his stay, Visarys rose up languidly, purposely making his movements seem weak, hopefully it would bait one of the fools that surrounded him into attacking, some blood sport would have been very welcome at that moment.

He almost laughed when another Dark Eldar was knifed in the back, the one called Draco. A pack of Warriors were standing over him, splinter rifles primed and aimed at anyone dumb enough to make a move, or bold enough. Visarys felt a rush of daring come over him, he cared absolutely nothing for the victim of this, he thought it was funny, but the chance to be bold and daring, to prove that he could go head to head against the higher ups in the Kabal was very tempting. Two of the opposing warriors were new like Visarys, lacking any form of ornamentation, but it was the elder warriors that posed the threat. The one plunging the blade was clearly a former Hellion, he bore all the features of the young gangers that flew through Commorragh's skies and made no end of trouble for the Kabals, the second Eldar holding the victim down was probably a former Hellion as well, likely they had joined at the same time to have achieved such status.

Visarys formed his plan quickly. Splinter rifles were a problem but the key problem was the missing warrior, somewhere in this room another warrior was hiding himself away, waiting for the opportune moment to strike, he or she was the real threat, the one who had no need to make this posturing display of power. These elders were not the real threat, that they felt the need to display their dominance so openly only make their weakness clearer, and Visarys despised weakness.

The plan was fairly simple, though it required perfect timing. Visarys tensed his muscles, his whipcord thin musculature allowing him to ready himself unseen by even Eldar eyes. As soon as the two on the ground looked away, just for an instant, Visarys would pounce, his blades would be drawn before the two gunners could activate their weapons. He would slash at their wrists, to make sure that they could not shoot at him, and then parry the inevitable counterattack by the Warriors holding their victim down, and finish with an elaborate riposte that would allow him to keep them down. Visarys scanned for any weak spots, to concentrate on those once the fight began, it would only aid him more. He kept the most important factor in mind, the mystery Eldar, wherever it was it was waiting for something like Visarys to happen. Visarys would keep his senses alert and if another Eldar entered the fight he would immediately shift the focus of his attentions to them, while making sure to keep the others in check. 

Visarys smirked as he eyed the Warriors with rifles, he needed their attention and he knew just how to get it. "You have issue with Halfborns my illustrious Kabal brethren?" Visarys continued, hoping to goad them into making a mistake. "You seem a long way from the slums Hellions, you really should have changed your appearance, such inartistic designs as those spikes and luridly ugly tattoos make it clear you belong in a gang pestering supply runs.' Visarys was waiting, as soon as any of them looked at him the designs on his armor would serve their purpose. The vivid red linings that swirled and covered his armor were designed to confound the enemy, the symbols and spirals that they formed would draw eyes into them, and buy Visarys precious seconds to act while those who glimpsed his armor were unwittingly caught in the trap. He smirked, it was about to get interesting.


----------



## Serpion5

*Nemele*

Somewhat surprisingly, a lot of wariors in the room seemed to have taken Nemele`s words as some sort of cue to put their own word in. One fool seemed to want to be on the side with the guns, a typical move to try and integrate with the more experienced. Unless he had some sort of plan perhaps? In any case, Nemele had not truly wished to be involved from the start, and with the sudden involvement of others she now had ample oppurtunity to slip away into the background. 

But what of Echar? He had supported her, maybe even _believed_ what he had said. It had been so long she almost didn`t recognise the feeling of..._Admiration._ There was something about Echar, something she liked. Whatever the reason, she didn`t want to see him hurt needlessly. 

'Echar,' She whispered to him. 'This is goint to be messy. Guard yourself, but this is a good time to let the chaff sort themselves out. Don`t fight needlessly...' 

Suddenly she was unsure of herself. Did she sound cowardly, saying this? Would she lose the respect of this warrior so soon after she had won it? She forced herself to calm, to steady her breathing and slow her heartbeat. Now was not the time to appear weak. 

She gripped her dagger behind her back, prepared to defend herself but not about to actively look for a fight...


----------



## komanko

Thal sighed as he heard the death cries of the slave he tried to encourage for his amusement. Those fools, why did they kill those slaves were beyond Thal but it did not matter as they were now dead so he won’t dwell on it any longer. He swung his sword, the light reflecting on it, dancing on it, it was clean and well taken care of although not a fancy or master crafted sword it served its purpose and thus it meant it had to be taken care of. 

A turnaround, and then a swing, backwards slash turning into a stab, swordsmanship was an art and it needed to be perfected, precise stab, puncturing any imaginary armor that stood in front of it.

Perfect.

It was like a dance for Thal, and he enjoyed that dance a lot. As his sword in a circle again he noticed a female approaching, she seemed interested in him yet he was not a fool like the one he saw before, he was not planning on falling into the temptress’s web. Paying no attention to her he continued his routine, with each swing he felt the air around moving, as it was cowering from his precise and perfect swings, making way for Thal to pass. Again he noticed the female, she also began practicing her swordsmanship, amusing, yet not satisfying, it certainly was not. So many weakness in her form of battle, so many advantages that Thal could use to gain the upper hand, yet he was not about to correct her, she will learn from her mistakes on the battlefield and if she won’t pay with her life for them then she will simply learn not to repeat them.

A plunge, a smash, a thud, something or someone fell on the ground. The impact resounding across the warrior filled hall.

He swung his sword horizontally, and at the meantime took a glimpse at what was happening. Five or seven he counted, all of them right on top of a single warrior, the warrior laid on the ground, something sticking out of his shoulder, a knife probably. Thal finished the swing, which he then continued with a spin which ended in him slashing from above yet instead of continuing his practice session he stopped. His gaze was now locked upon the fight which was going on. Two were directly upon the knocked down warrior and another four were standing guard above them with splinter rifles ready. 

It was obvious, the aggressors all knew each other yet one stood out, Thal did not notice him before, and rarely something escaped his gaze, it was weird, as Thal was sure that all twenty were kneeling down in front of the Sybarite. 

“*Damn Halfborn!*” The words rang across the hall, everyone hearing them clearly, a eerie silence falling on the room, no one spoke, no one said a word, “*We were enjoying that slave’s suffering! Who told you that you could kill it! Were you born in your vat yesterday?*” It did make sense, why would someone kill a slave, the slave’s whole purpose was to suffer and feed the owner with energy, rejuvenating and invigorating him. The warrior was clearly mad, as the phlegm in his throat could be easily heard. Looking more closely at the warrior Thal noted the important features. Short spiky hair, looked natural due to it not being combed or touched, thin skin, extremely stretched, resembling some sort of a mask, so thin that the warrior’s teeth were nearly seen through the thin skin. Black armor, dark orange highlights, spikes decorating it, as most of the dark eldar did. The other warrior which was holding the attacked warrior, pinning him to the ground, was wearing black armor with a huge amount of purple symbols painted into it, Slaanesh sprung into Thal’s mind immediately, Thal always associated Slaanesh with purple… Unlike the other warrior this one had a tattoo on his face; the same symbols which decorated his armor also decorated his face, short hair, pulled into three different braids from behind. The others did not matter, they were weak enough to just stand above and stare so they were expendable. The one who stabbed was probably the leader and the one near him probably the second in command in that small “party”.

The room began to stir, eldar moving from place to place, some speaking, giving a speech on why the attackers should stop, pathetic, the warrior showed weakness and now was being culled, as needed, there was no place for the weak around this Kabal. Others moved closer, supporting their “brother” in need, one stood out, one who said that he wanted to join the attackers, he wanted to punish the imbecile. Never in his life did Thal see so many eldar supporting a fellow “brother”, this was sickening to look at. Yet the one who was really in trouble was the knocked down warrior, if he survives he will have debt towards his saviors, and debts are a powerful tool as well as a reason to murder someone.

Thal wanted to say natural as he watched this event yet one thing bothered him; it wasn’t the attack from behind, or the fact that they were all defending a weakling. What’s bothered him was the actions of the veterans, they were starting a fight over three dead Mon – Keigh, a pathetic display… The only reasonable reason for such an action is that maybe the veterans wanted to show their superiority but still, it was stupid.

“*Fellow Trueborn*!” Thal spoke as he leaned against a nearby wall, “*You may be right for punishing an imbecile like that, your maybe even doing a good thing, culling the weak from our squad, but look at your reason, you are a trueborn, and you are fighting over three dead Mon - Keigh! This is pathetic; better stop it before you embarrass yourself even more. But, if you wish to continue this pathetic display of power then be my guest I am not going to stop you, just find a damn better reason then three dead Mon – Keigh!*”


----------



## Lord Ramo

Tyaer'r still leant against the wall taking in her surroundings as well as her squad mates. They were a pathetic bunch, but curious to observe as it was. Two groups in particular caught her eye, both of them pathetic and laughable for her. The first group was that Nemele half born whore and her "prized" warrior. She had thought that the Dark Eldar warrior would have been far more intelligent and realized that Nemele was just going to discard him to one side the second that she was done with him.

The second group was that of a warrior named Thal and his temptress. She had watched this pair curiously. The warrior Thal and stabbed a human then walked behind the cages to practice his swordmanship, obviously showing off to the rest of the group. She had to admit she was impressed by his swordmanship, fairly good, though she was sure that she could exploit a moments of weakness. This female eldar had been seemingly drawn on him, killing a human and following him completely. She had started her own dance of death, though Tyaer'r wasn't impressed with either.

They were two forward, too open. She could have stalked forward and slit their throats with her knives, or removed their limbs in but a few seconds. Soon a commotion broke out, one too which she couldn't help but to giggle out loud at. A halfborn scum had ruined the "veterans" fun of the three dead humans, and as such he was probably about to die. That was until every half born in the room started to move towards the group, each offering their opinions and preparing themselves for battle.

The few true borns that there were in the room either stood idly by or moved to support their "brethren". Tyaer'r took this time to move over to the female that had been trying to impress and whispered in her ears. *"Nice attempt, though he isn't a fool and won't fall for it."* A cruel smile danced across her face as she moved over to the warrior that had been practicing, *"Thal is it? Impressive moves, though I reckon I could take you pretty quickly. One false step and your dead." *She laughed and moved over towards the little "fight" that was going on.

*"Come now brothers, do we really wish to waste our energies on a half born? And over humans? I don't think so. I shall take no part in this, its just not entertaining enough for me."*


----------



## unxpekted22

I will be private messaging each of you with your own individual instructions/options except for blackguard. btw just so I'm sure you know, a name in this color means it is a significant NPC character, not another human player.


Draco speaks first, being the first to know he has been taken by surprise and stabbed of course. The warrior responds to him only saying, "Tyyrn has nothing to do with this," before he draws the knife out with a long string of blood flying out with it, and he raises it to stab once more.

Nemele speaks next, stopping The warrior's blade in mid-air as he goes to stab Draco a second time.

This is followed by Echar's short speech. As soon as Echar takes a fraction of a step back, the leader of the group who stabbed Draco looks up with an unnaturally wide grin on his face.

Then Tyaer'r and Thal speak their own minds, trueborns who are unwilling to support their same class brethren in such an act..

The six warriors about Draco all laugh, not being able to take any more humor in silence. 

This is when Talic moves in, stepping close to one of the warrirors who appears to be new to the kabal as well. Despite his words, the warrior raises his splinter rifle so it is inches away from Talic's face, not letting him get any closer. His laughs instantly turn to a scowl, "_A step closer and you're next half-born."_

The leader then speaks out, now twirling his knife in one hand as his other hand remains pressing down on Draco's back. "_none of you could make it any more clear how new you are to the kabal, even infantile to Commorragh perhaps! First I replace the suffering I lost from this fool killing the slave, with his own richer soul, and in doing so have weeded out the weakest one in this room. This is not over three human souls. The raid is not about numbers, this is about making sure that when we do go on the raid that the warriors next to me are actually able to kill and bring back wealth. This is about making sure our kabal is strong, not filled with the most amount of garbage. Trust me, I am *not* short-sighted in my acts."_

As soon as these words leave his stretched mouth is when Tormen makes his move, lunging at the same warrior that Talic stands in front of.

The warrior turns toward the oncoming threat, splinter rifle raised but never gets a chance to use it before it drops to the floor, as one of Talic's serrated knives plunges into the side of his neck, ripping and tearing the inside of the warrior's throat as he gurgles on his own blood before dropping to the ground. His helmet remains on but the armor about his neck is shredded on one side.

Tormen's strike never lands either. He is caught in mid-air by the veteran warrior with dark green armor and reptilian eyes, who keeps him in a standing choke hold. Tormen's feet are off the ground but he resists all the while. The warrior says to Tormen,_ "Now, now there trueborn, it looks like you're fighting for the wrong side here doesn't it? It would be interesting to know why a trueborn would so eagerly attack us before he attacks the foul trash that stands in this room? My name is Dalotael, tell you what, you agree to be on our side, and help us out when we need it, then we'll help you when you need it... and I'll let you go of course."_ 

Through all of this, the leader suddenly whips the bloody knife he is twirling straight ahead of him. The smooth blade lands perfectly into Echar's ribcage. The warrior then leaps over Tormen's lunge and the falling body of the warrior Talic killed, making it all the way to Echar who grips the blade's handle protruding from his armor. The warrior slams into Echar sending him to the ground taking hold of Echar's cheeks with both hands, pulling the skin so hard each of his nails digs in and draws streams of blood while saying, _"Hi there Mr. weakest Half-born or our new kabalite babies! Why not try my look for a change Maybe you'll like it! You should really learn what it means to be a dark eldar. You do realize that no one ever decided upon the all-too-natural laws that govern the Commorrites don't you?"_ as his eyes are dead-locked on yours, his eerily smiling face turns into a vicious snarl, his breathing rate doubles with his hot breath pushing against your burning face before he lets out a deep laugh, licks up some of the blood from your face and bites your forehead, sinking his teeth through your flesh right above your eyes. He rises again and says with a monstrous growl, _"Why should I, Araklyd the true-born, share my real-space riches with some...__*impure scrap of flesh!*_"

Nemele is knocked aside from Echar when Araklyd leaps onto him and it takes her a moment to make a decision.

At the same time as Tormen and Talic make their attacks, Beithir and Visarys make their own moves. 

Beithir takes the opportunity of her fellow warriors attacking to strike at the second of the two new kabalite warriors holding splinter rifles. He fires a short salvo of his crystalline ammunition, purple shards blinking in and out of life in a millisecond, lighting up the short expanse of air alongside the unique clap of the dark eldar automatic weapon. A few of the shots hit home but do no major damage, not penetrating far enough into Bethir's armor for the poisons to do their work. Beithir is able to strike out with her sword, striking the splinter rifle out of the warrior's hands. The warrior quickly retaliates by drawing his own blade and striking out all in the same motion, cutting a gash into her abdomen. They are soon locked in an evenly matched dual.

Visarys gets his first look from the fourth warrior who is standing. The veteran with black armor that has blue and white details, who has hooks and spikes about his face and neck. Visarys's armor seems to in fact distract him for a moment but not long enough for the warrior who has been in a kabal for far longer. The warrior uses his splinter rifle to bash Visarys's knife clutched hands aside, then slams the butt of the rifle into his chest sending him staggering backwards and straight into the back of Elammakil. 

The four remaining warriors in the room join in the brawl. Three of them take on the warrior who just pushed Visarys away, and just one of them forces the warrior with purple marking on his armor off of Draco's body, finally freeing him. The tatooed veteran cries out, "Dammit Gret! Stay out of our business. This warrior is wearing black armor that appears very weathered and not highlighted, brown and gray scratches and chippings over the edges. He wields a smooth edged sword, and wears his helmet which has a long black pony tail going down his back from out the top.

he and the tattooed veteran dual, evenly matched. The one with spikes in his face and neck fends off the other three warriors, killing one in seconds by taking hold of the punch dagger at his waist and shoving it upward into the new warrior's throat. He then appears evenly matched with the other two attacking together.

Elammakil, you get no response from Tyyrn. Instead your attention is rudely interrupted by one of the half-borns falling into your backside. With true dark eldar instincts you spin around to face him (though you are perhaps a bit ashamed for allowing something to hit you in the back). He wears oddly ornate armor with dizzying red and gold patterned lines swirling all over it. 

Thal and Tyaer'r both continue to observe at first, but what do they decide to do next?

Xole: Still on the last update, don't worry about this one unless you decide to run back out, then you will see everything that has happened but you won't be able to interact just yet, only observe and ponder.


----------



## emporershand89

Beithir lept and rolled, coming up in a gaurd as she felt the warriors sword pierce through her armor and wound her. Looking down she saw blood, her blood, and a nasty gash across her abdomen.

"Damn," she hissed,"...you scared my beautiful body. now I will kill you!" she circled the warrior, looking for a opening, but not finding one as he slowly dirfted back towards his downed splinter rifle. Beithir wasn't gonna let him get to it first, and she launched a flurry of attacks that rained down on the young warrior. he barely dodged, and rolled towards the rifle for a clean shot at her. As luck would have it, another pair, Draco perhaps, blocked his path and Beithir came down hard, slicing a good scar across his left shuolder. 

Picking uo his sword, the warrior stood his ground, now in the opposite direction from where he wanted to be. Beithir just had to keep him distracted till she got the chance, then she'd send him to Slaneeshi and all the other damnations of the warp. She suddenly saw him come, ducked his first blow, then landed a fist in his face which made him step back alittle. She then lept up, using his head as a balance point and stabbed downwards into his shoulder, her blade slipping nicely into his mucles.

"AARRGGHHHHHH," he raored and turned to meet her but it was too late. Beithir picked up the rifle and aimed it point blank, less than 5 meters, and depressed the trigger.

"Suck on this," she cackled.....................(OCC: all yours GM)


----------



## Santaire

Tormen snarled as he lunged but the strike never landed. In an impressive display of speed and timing one of the other veterans had caught him in a standing choke hold. Tormen's feet were off the ground but he struggled all the time, trying to pry the warrior's fingers off his throat. The warrior spoke to Tormen, saying "Now, now there trueborn, it looks like you're fighting for the wrong side here doesn't it? It would be interesting to know why a trueborn would so eagerly attack us before he attacks the foul trash that stands in this room? My name is Dalotael, tell you what, you agree to be on our side, and help us out when we need it, then we'll help you when you need it... and I'll let you go of course."

"Blasted son of a halfborn," Tormen snarled and kicked his feet into Dalotael's chest before turning a backward somersault, using his chest as a springboard. At the same time he muttered "this is just an act to make the others think I am against you." Dalotael smiled slyly but then to support the deception snarled and let go, stepping back at the same time. Tormen drew his blade as he landed and lunged forward. Dalotael dodged back from the blade before coming back in with a dazzling series of fake blows.

Tormen blocked or dodged them but the last strike struck him on the breast plate and knocked him over. Dalotael raised his blade for the killing blow but Tormen twisted his body and kicked both feet upwards knocking the other trueborn backwards and propelling Tormen back to his feet.

They circled each other. "This is pleasing," Tormen said, smiling. "That it is," said Dalotael "I wonder if the stupid halfborn will fall for it though."


----------



## Farseer Darvaleth

Suddenly, the knife whipped out. Echar was partly shocked to see it thud into his ribcage, but partly angry. As he was barrelled to the floor, Echar roared with hate.

*"So, you would call me weak?"* Echar hissed as his face was gouged at, *"Then you know nothing of my past. You know nothing of my ambition. Khaine is with me, and by fighting me, you fight him also. You fight a god."* Echar twisted a little, feigning an attempt at escape, but actually getting his hand on the hilt of his curved blade, ready to lash it out and impale the warrior on top of him should he need to.

*"You would still call me half-born? Are you stupid enough to believe the circumstances of my birth are any impediment to my power? You forget, stupid warrior, that the great Vect was once a slave. Look at him now. And I bet he remembers all the people who laughed at him when he was weaker, and has found them all by now. People like you."* Echar's eyes became great black pits, a trick he had mastered when he was younger, their empty voids staring into the warrior's eyes, *"One day, I will kill you. Mark my words. I swear it by Khaine, and his blood flows through my veins, his fire in my heart. Get off me now, or I will strike you down!"* roared Echar, his hand tightening around the grip of his curved sword, preparing himself to lash out.


OOC: I apologise for the poor quality of this post, I am frankly surprised I had the time even to write this up at all.


----------



## Karak The Unfaithful

Draco was free at last, and he wanted nothing more than revenge.
his shoulder was in great pain which only made it worse.
A true-born fell beside where he lay, not quite dead.
If Draco could cause more pain to him then he already had then the wound would heal, he grinned at this and grabbed his blade.
The warrior looked up at him with fearful eyes, "you are dying but there is still time to hurt you" he hissed.
Draco held the blade near to his face and then gripped his jaw.
"lets see what improvments we can make..."
Draco thrust the blade inside his mouth and smashed it down onto his teeth, Draco then reached inside his mouth and pulled out the teeth one by one.
the warrior tried to yell but could not.
then draco took his blade out the true-born's mouth and cut off his ear and the other.
"squeal little piggy, squeal"

Draco continued to torture the unfortunate warrior until he finally died


----------



## Serpion5

*Nemele*

Nemele was ashamedly unprepared for the surprise attack. The Trueborn holding Draco to the floor flicked his knife in their direction. Nemele reflexively darted to the side but the blade was not aimed at her. Instead it embedded into Echar`s midsection, drawing a snarl of rage from the kabalite and a slow trickle of blood. 

Nemele froze. Echar was wounded... Why did she care? Why did she suddenly feel concern for someone whom she intended to use and dispose of mere minutes ago? So lost was she in her own confusion that she was completely unaware of the attacker following through on his attack. 

Nemele was pushed to the side by the charging trueborn as he tackled Echar to the floor. With one hand instinctively gripping her knife, she was ill prepared to cusion her fall and sprawled onto the floor to the side of the two combatants. With lightning speed she turned herself upright, getting to her feet and looking on in confusion and... fear? 

As the two eldar grappled with each other, trading insults and curses, she fought with her own rationality. To intervene was to place herself at risk, a risk ultimately unnecessary. Araklyd was only interested in killing Echar, or else he`d have slain Nemele when he had the chance moments ago. She could... simply walk away, let Echar die and forgive and forget... metaphorically of course. And yet, on some level she desired nothing more than to help, to save Echar`s life from this arrogant bastard and solidify their alliance. But why? Why did she care so damn much?! Though it felt like her turmoil had been long and tormentive, in reality no more than three seconds had passed. 

Then it hit her as clear as the light from a world of the materium. It didn`t matter. Hers was a race who thrived on indulging their desires, so what real reason was there to stop now? She _wanted_ to help Echar, nothing else matered to her right now. She could worry about _why_ later on, all she had to do now was _act..._

Drawing her knife, she advanced. Stealthily, beyond Araklyd`s sight but still within Echar`s, she approached, her blade ready to sever the arrogant trueborn`s spine...


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Talic smiled as he tasted his bretheren's blood as it shot out of the massive rent he had put in his neck with one of his blades. As he reacted so did everyone else, this gave him some time to drink the blood coming out of the warrior's neck, he lapped it up quickly with his tongue, some of it trickling down his chin and neck. He shivered a little in ecstasy before turning to see what was happening in the rest of the room, a huge brawl had broken out between everyone and it would seem Tormen had himself in a tight spot, one of the veteran's hands around his neck. 

Strange. Two True-Born fighting each other. This was something that caused some confusion with Talic, True-born never really fought each other, usually seeking to punish the Half-born instead. Yet it would appear that Tormen for whatever reason was now dueling with the veteran, something he was going to take advantage of now.

The veteran's back was toward him as he sprinted, both knives out and ready, he was going to plunge one into the side of the veteran's knee and as he fell to grab at it Talic would jump and plunge the other knife into the veteran's face.


----------



## Lord Ramo

Tyaer'r watched as the room descended into chaos, laughing at how quickly everyone decided to get involved in affairs that they shouldn't have done in the first place. The damned half born thought themselves to be higher up the food change that they should be and that was made evident as they all leapt to the defense of the one injured one. They should be looking out for themselves, not actually looking out for each other, loyalty was overrated and obviously a ruse.

Tyaer'r watched with interest several fights, a true born fought another true born, that was suspicious, probably a front to draw a half born in then leap on them, but what did she know, she wasn't involved. She paced through the fights, watching as the True Borns seemed to have the upper hand and twisted and weaved her way through the fights. She was bored, this chaos was superb, how could someone not want to be a part of this? She looked at a way for her to be involved on the fights, she needed to feel the thrill of fighting her brethren. They were the best prey, the most fun.

One fight drew her attention, the leader of the true born had wrestled the warrior who had fallen for the whore of a half born while she moved, ready to attack him from behind. This was odd behaviour, she should have been looking out for herself but Tyaer'r would exploit this. She moved quickly and silently, heading directly towards her from behind, one of her two serrated knives in her hand as she planned on leaping at the half borns back and knock her to the ground before knocking its blade from her hand. Well that was the plan in theory.


----------



## Santaire

Tormen saw Talic creeping up behind Dalotael and lunged forward. Dalotael dodged to the side as Tormen whispered "Talic is behind you." Dalotael tripped him and turned with it seeing Talic approaching. Tormen stood moving round the combat before diving in between them, punching Dalotael in the chest at the same time as he lunged at Talic.

"You would try to sneak up on him," Tormen said to Talic as he rolled to his feet "where is the glory in that." He jumped and thrust one foot at Dalotael and one foot at Talic before performing a backward somersault and landing on his feet. He grinned slyly at Dalotael who returned it in a flash so that Talic did not notice. The three of them continued fighting.

Talic seemed surprised at Tormen for fighting another Trueborn, evidently he had fallen for the deceit but he was probably also surprised that Tormen seemed to be fighting both Talic and Dalotael at the same time.

Tormen planned his move in a split second. He lunged at Dalotael but pulled it up short and thrust his foot at Talic and when he moved to dodge the blow he swung round with the curved blade, scratching Dalotael's chest plate and rebounding off it before continuing round in a scything blow aimed at Talic's neck...


----------



## Lord of the Night

As soon as the warrior took his glance Visarys lunged forward, serrated blades spinning in both hands, towards the warrior. The mark's eyes were captured by the armor's swirling patterns, for an instant Visarys thought that he would be too enraptured to even fight back, he was wrong. The warrior looked up and deftly blocked both knives with his splinter rifles, following with a quick parry to turn the blades aside. Visarys cursed silently, he hadn't expected that using the splinter rifle as a shield would have occurred to this mark, let alone using it in place of a blade, but he had no time to relax. As the warrior drew his weapon back and pushed it forward Visarys leapt backwards, the tip of the rifle just impacting against his chest, most of the blow's force was stolen away but it was enough that he stumbled on his landing, hitting another of his 'kin' in the back.

Visarys spun on his heel, he regained balance instantly, to see who he had hit, and whether or not a duel was about to commence, Visarys had killed men for less, much less. The warrior was Trueborn at a glance, and then some. His hair was unnatural, dyed silver to replicate the white that Visarys bore naturally, and his armor was ornamented, not to the extent that Visarys bladed his but fairly well-done, and clearly made of a higher quality metal, likely custom ordered from the forges of Commorragh. The warrior's glowing blue eyes were a stark contrast to Visarys's hungering red eyes, and in a single second Visarys knew him. Elammakil, the upjumped nephew to Archon Direngr and a fellow warrior, though he doubted that the highborn warrior would even admit that they shared anything in common at all, but he was dangerous for his skill and his blood, even if that danger was only his familial relations he merited observation.

"You should watch yourself more carefully my Kabal-brother, that could have been my blade that struck you rather than my back. Where would you be then, hmm," Visarys jested, making sure to maintain eye contact with the warrior's eyes and blade simultaneously, he would be ready to respond violently in a heartbeat if the highborn chose to initiate a duel. As his muscles tensed invisibly Visarys knew his next move, he would quickly disarm the warrior with a series of carefully-timed and targeted flourishes, to make the warrior overstretch his blades and leave his center vulnerable to a focused attack. A few strokes and it would be over, though just in case the noble proved more fearsome and took more to bring down he began running over different methods by meticulously analyzing the highborn's body, his stance and form, how long his reach was, how quickly could he respond and how deftly he could move his wrists and joints.

Visarys waited, he had made his own move. Now it was the noble's turn.


----------



## BlackGuard

To a Dark Eldar, everything was oversensitive. The light in a room, the smells in the air, the sounds all around him. It was what made his race the most adept at stealth and raiding, why not even their holier-than-thou cousins in the Craftworlds could proclaim such skill as their own. As he knelt before Tyyrn his ears instantly picked up the sounds of conflict coming from else where -- the sharp, snipped reports of splinter rifles, the shouted insults and threats of bloodshedding and violence. It was like music being played for him -- distant and hollow through the walls, but the effect was the same. 

Though for him it was a moment of indecision. He wanted to shed blood, to rush into the room and kill the weakest Eldar in sight, to feel their blood upon his hands, to taste the coppery substance, and to feel the sheer pleasure of their souls torment. It was like a heady drug to him as he thought about it more and more. His mind had always been one about indulging whatever desires to wanted to and in that moment he very nearly got up and turned away.

Then a thought occured to him and he smiled. He refained from moving, from rising to turn from the Sabalite and rush into the bloodshed. Instead, questions would be asked...

'Sybarite Tyyrn I have wish to know about this realspace raid,' he began with genuine interest, 'Whom will we plunder from? The weak humans and their bloated Imperium? Our kin on the Craftworlds perhaps?'

Before a response was given, Xole was quick to ask another, to him, more important question ...

'Will there be disproportion plunder given ... based upon station?'

Acid was just kept from his lips as he spoke the question -- any Half-Born would ask the same.


----------



## komanko

OOC: Sorry for this taking so long. Hope that I did not break any rule that you put with the planning thing 

The veteran leader spoke, his words were true to an extent, he was actually doing them a favor by weeding out the weakest, it was a good idea but even the weaklings can serve as cannon fodder which is always good. Strangely the leader was extremely loyal to the Kabal as he spoke about how the Kabal needs to be strong and filled only with the elite troops. An expression of loyalty was a rare thing and most of the time untrustworthy and thus Thal treated it as such. He did not believe any of the words that the Leader said yet he still considered them.

Someone moved. Thal’s eyes followed the warrior as he lunged on one of the attackers. A quick motion, splinter rifle in hand facing the lunging warrior, a deceiver, knife in hand, plugged into the throat of the rifle wielder. And then, all hell broke loose. Fighting filled the hall, blood spilling, that smell… so energizing, so sweet. How could he keep himself from such a good fight, yet who should he support? A good question indeed, as he did not feel any kinship towards any of the sides. Scouring the battlefield his eyes centered on one, a veteran warrior, spikes in his neck, he was fighting in two fronts against two different enemies, surprisingly the battle was even and none gained the upper hand, a good fighter he was, one that Thal could learn from as he managed to hold off two veterans by himself, three if the dead one is counted. 

A target was now set, and Thal was ready to move and help the lone warrior. Looking to his side he saw a female dark eldar(Lord Ramo's character), her pale skin made her dark blue eyes stand out, she moved gracefully and quickly like a warp beast, and she was probably just as dangerous, sadly no other features were visible as the armor covered most of them. Thal recalled that she was impressed with his fighting skills yet at the same time claimed that she is better, and somehow she also knew his name, which meant that she met him some time earlier butThal did not recall her, he should have paid more attention to the other warriors who were training with him. 

As Thal was about to move, he informed her that he is going to help the outnumbered warrior but then noticed that she already departed and headed towards the veteran leader, a wise target picking, after all, the leader is the best foe to battle, and the most challenging one as well. A small smile crept to his face while he was busy unsheathing his smooth edged sword, he would check with her later, get to know her better and maybe even ser her straight about who is a better warrior. Yet now the fun part was about to begin. He grabbed the very edge of the grip of his sword and let it hit the ground with its edge, he then began running towards the closest of the warriors who were attacking the outnumbered veteran, it did not matter who died first... As he ran he formulated a plan in his head and all the while his sword created a screeching sound as it was dragged across the floor, hopefully distracting the warriors. He will lounge towards the warrior; the sword will come after him, striking from below in an uppercut motion. He will then slash from above, continuing the fluid motion of the sword, hopefully he will hit the warrior’s chest or neck, but if the warrior will try attacking him he will roll on the behind him, and slash horizontally at the back of his knees, tearing through the muscles which will make the warrior fall, he will then back away quickly and raise his sword in a diagonal defense position ready to block from below and above at the same time.


----------



## unxpekted22

(If you dont have time to read the whole thing, start at the first All. everything before that deals with all of the individual situations. It may be good to know who has been able to do what.)

Beithir: The warrior doesn’t have to turn around to know that you have picked up the rifle. With a last ditch effort he slides out a knife sheathed on his upper arm. Just as you pull the trigger he spins around. As bright purple shards fly toward him a flash of silver causes your head to jerk to the side. The blade he threw slices across your cheek doing no major damage, while a salvo of poisonous shards punctures his mid section. He falls to the ground paralyzed and dying. 

Talic and Tormen: After a confusing bit of fighting, it becomes clear who’s side Tormen is on when he lashes out for Talic’s throat. Talic is able to evade the strike, sending a counter blow with his body against Tormen’s armor knocking him back. Dalotael makes no further movements.

Echar: Hysterical laughter erupts from Araklyd’s throat, but you see Nemele being true to your fast made alliance with her as she slides behind Araklyd, knife drawn. To your surprise another female warrior appears behind her, and before you can warn Nemele she is on the ground. Araklyd turns his head around to watch his back for a moment, the chains about his dark orange highlighted armor dangling over you. The shift in body weight allows your hand to grip the hilt of your sword but as you attempt to bring it up the knife in your upper pectoral prevents your arm from making and significant movements. Araklyd feels you move beneath him and turns his growling face back to yours. He draws another knife from his thigh and holds it above your head; Murderous intent locked in his dark eyes. 

Nemele and Tyaer’r: Nemele, just as your arm begins to fly towards Araklyd’s back the world spins and the floor your feet were on is gone. You spin until your chest his the floor, at which point you watch your knife disappear with a large red line seeping to life on your hand. You hear the sliding metal of your knife on the floor as it hits the nearest wall and comes to a clanking stop. Another’s blade finds as of resting place against your throat, a tight gripped hand holding the top of your hair. Your senses tell you it is one of the other female warriors.

Draco: The warrior’s pain beneath you does enough for you to at least not feel the pain in your shoulder so much. Three more warriors dropping dead around you does even more, enough to get you back on your feet with your weapon drawn. 

Thal: The scraping sound does indeed alert the closer of the two warriors. He turns to meet you and blocks the initial uppercut away. The veteran behind him is no fool, and takes the opportunity by forcing his punch dagger into the warriors back, splitting his spine and raising one of his long legs to side kick the second warrior in the faceplate. Your second swing comes down successfully through the warrior’s collar bone as he convulses violently from his spine being split in two. The second warrior, being kicked in the face, falls backward, knocked out cold. The veteran looks at you with a grin,_ “Looks like there might be a real warrior amongst our new brothers after all.”_

All: The room’s main doors open slowly, sliding across the ground as they do so. An imposing figure steps through, with three others of seemingly less significance following him. The Eldar has large cheek bones, a broad face to go with them, and wide eyes; long straight hair to frame it all. The symbol of the kabal is painted on his chest armor in a dull blue color. A black cape shadows his form. You are all familiar with who this is, though none of you have seen him in person before, it is Dracon Xllian.

He pauses for a moment, and the more of the scene he takes in the bigger his smile gets, until finally with the tone of a monster, _“Looks like I have brought a few more new recruits just in time!”_ followed by laughter. His grin immediately turns to hatred as he walks up to Araklyd who is still over Echar about to make the final stab, _“Still picking on half-borns Arakyld?”_

His entering of the room and now the presence of his voice causes everyone in the room to halt.

From under his cape he draws a blast pistol (lance weapon) and pushes it into Araklyd’s forehead, _“Get up.”_ Araklyd does so with a snarl. _“Need I remind you that I never had the luxury of forming while sitting comfortably in the soft warm bed of a womb to get to where I am today you careless rat?”_ Xllian aims the pistol away, grabbing Araklyd by the throat, _“You're lucky Araklyd, you're damn lucky we wish you still alive right now. But heed my words, luck doesn’t last forever.”_
Xllian lest go of Araklyd’s throat and addresses the other four veterans first pointing at each one as he names them. First _Dalotael_, then to the one with tattoos covering his face and purple symbols on his armor, “_Euripedes_,” then to the one with spikes and hooks and blue highlighted armor, “_Brujjn_.” 

_“Leave this room.”_ he says to the four of them, and they comply. He then motions for the three warriors behind him to come before him with the rest of you,_ “The Archon is more interested in using other means to strengthen the Kabal right now. It is everyone’s responsibility in the Kabal to contribute to this, including the newcomers….especially the newcomers to see if any of you can bring anything significant to the Torturous Bite. You are all to go out into Commorragh and do whatever you can to help prepare the Torturous Bite for the raid. Supplies, alliances, support, influence, preventing sabotage. With the news of the real space raid spreading quickly, there will be a thickening of merchants, vendors, and mercenaries filling the streets within our territory.”_
_
“There is a wytch cult that Archon Direnger has made fairly good ties with, but there is no guarantee yet that they would join us in battle. It is the wytch Cult of Acrimony, and their arena is not far from here. The Archon has informed me they will be putting on their displays shortly. The closest toroid arena is having a series of death races between the Cobalt Vipers (in codex) and the Blood Soaked(not in codex) reaver gangs later today as well.”_

With this the Dracon turns and leaves the way he came.

Gret, the fifth of the veterans among the group remains. This is the one that defended the half-borns with some of you. 

Razyel: You are one of the three new warriors to follow the Dracon into the room. 

Visarys and Elammakil: There is no longer any time to fight, and if the Dracon hears it there is a good chance he would return to kill you. You may only exchange further words.

Echar: There is still a knife in your chest and you are unable to get up on your own. You will be in need of some rejuvenation. 

All: get yourselves back together, talk amongst each other, figure out where you want to go, who you want to go with if anyone: the wytch cult arena, the reaver death races, or see what you can accomplish in the streets of Commorragh. Whichever you choose you will be traveling through the streets before you get there so for now simply have your character decide where they wish to go, next update will begin the actual travel to the locations. Multiple posts allowed for everyone for any conversations/arguments that may arise. If the Dracon happens to hear any continued physical fighting he would likely return to kill those who do so.

Xole: Tyyrn replies calmly and silently, _“Yes, the bloated Imperium, and the young Tau empire. As far as portion of goods, what you get from the raid is yours. The hard part is keeping your hands on all of it after we make our leave. Tell me Xole, why is it you came into my chambers instead of all the others who decided to ‘greet’ each other? What do you hope to accomplish in the near future?"_


----------



## Karak The Unfaithful

three more dying warriors came to Draco and after every form of torture was done upon them he would be strong again, then he would find someone to kill.
He came to the first warrior and laughed, "pathetic fool" and drew his blade.

But he stopped when a large figure walked into the room, obviously someone important, Draco took a moment to watch the new arrival.
“Looks like I have brought a few more new recruits just in time!” followed by laughter. His grin immediately turns to hatred as he walks up to Araklyd who is still over Echar about to make the final stab, “Still picking on half-borns Arakyld?

A Dracon...sticking up for half-borns, which was good for Draco, he didn't want another snob acting like they own the place.

From under his cape he draws a blast pistol (lance weapon) and pushes it into Araklyd’s forehead, “Get up.” Araklyd does so with a snarl. “Need I remind you that I never had the luxury of forming while sitting comfortably in the soft warm bed of a womb to get to where I am today you careless rat?” Xllian aims the pistol away, grabbing Araklyd by the throat, “You're lucky Araklyd, you're damn lucky we wish you still alive right now. But heed my words, luck doesn’t last forever.”

He listened carefully, this was obviously someone to be watched, maybe even feared. Draco grinned at the thought, fear kept you on your toes, kept you aware for danger, fear was good.

"You are all to go out into Commorragh and do whatever you can to help prepare the Torturous Bite for the raid. Supplies, alliances, support, influence, preventing sabotage. With the news of the real space raid spreading quickly, there will be a thickening of merchants, vendors, and mercenaries filling the streets within our territory.”

It seemed the cabal still had alot to do before the their first realspace raid, Draco would be careful how he played hiis part from now on, the game could change at any moment.

He turned back to the warrior, "don't think you out of this that easily"


----------



## Santaire

Tormen swung round with a cry but Talic managed to evade just in time, countering with a blow that made Tormen stumble back a step. He turned the stumble into a back flip and landed perfectly. He smiled and lunged forward. Talic dodged and Tormen dropped to his knees and skidded under his opponent's return blow.

They fought for a few more minutes but stopped when the door slid open and four warriors stepped out. Tormen was in mid lunge, directed at Talic's heart but he sheathed the blade and stood straight. It was Dracon Xllian.

The Dark Eldar lord glanced around the room, smiling. His smile broadened as his eyes swept over them but then, in a tone that brooked no argument he said “Looks like I have brought a few more new recruits just in time!” The warriors laughed but quietened when his grin turned to hatred as he walked up to the veteran on top Echar about to make the final stab, “Still picking on half-borns Araklyd?”

The Dracon drew a blast pistol from under his cloak and pushed it into Arakyld's forehead. "Get up," the Dracon commanded. Araklyd did so with a snarl and then the Xilian continued on to say “Need I remind you that I never had the luxury of forming while sitting comfortably in the soft warm bed of a womb to get to where I am today you careless rat?” Xllian lowered the pistol, before grabbing Araklyd by the throat, “You're lucky Araklyd, you're damn lucky we wish you still alive right now. But heed my words, luck doesn’t last forever.”

Xilian let go and pointed to first Dalotael, then to the one with tattoos covering his face and purple symbols on his armor, Euripedes, then to the one with spikes and hooks and blue highlighted armor, Brujjn. 

“Leave this room.” Dracon Xilian said harshly to the four of them, and they did so. He then motioned for the three warriors behind him to come forward and join Tormen and the other Dark Eldar in the room with him, “The Archon is more interested in using other means to strengthen the Kabal right now. It is everyone’s responsibility in the Kabal to contribute to this, including the newcomers….especially the newcomers to see if any of you can bring anything significant to the Torturous Bite. You are all to go out into Commorragh and do whatever you can to help prepare the Torturous Bite for the raid. Supplies, alliances, support, influence, preventing sabotage. With the news of the real space raid spreading quickly, there will be a thickening of merchants, vendors, and mercenaries filling the streets within our territory.”

“There is a wytch cult that Archon Direnger has made fairly good ties with, but there is no guarantee yet that they would join us in battle. It is the wytch Cult of Acrimony, and their arena is not far from here. The Archon has informed me they will be putting on their displays shortly. The closest toroid arena is having a series of death races between the Cobalt Vipers and the Blood Soaked reaver gangs later today as well.”

With this the Dracon turned and left.

He had already made up his mind. He would watch the reaver gang races for he had no interest in the Wych cults. Tormen held out a hand to Talic...


----------



## revan4559

Razyel had followed Dracon Xllian through the Kabal's base with two others until they ended up stopping in one of the rooms where other DArk Eldar were fighting each other. Razyel felt a slight pang of disappointment as he had not been here to join in as he wished to take some more heads or hearts to present to the higher ups of the Kabal so he simply let out a small sigh which was masked by the sash wrapped around the lower portion of his face. He remained standing behind the Dracon while watching him threaten another warrior and by the sound of it a Trueborn like himself.

After watching the four warriors depart the Dracon had motioned for him and the two others to come inside the room so he did, moving to stand infront of the Dracon as he listened to him talking about going out into the city and helping the Kabal prepare for the real-space raid, something which intruided Razyel as he had only had the pleasure of taking the heads of other Dark Eldar and wondered how much of a fight these Mon-Keigh would put up along with the alien race known as the 'Tau'. After watching the Dracon leave Razyel turned around to look over the other kabal warriors before noticing one on the group with a dagger stuck in his chest. Striding over to him(Echar) Razyel leans forward to look down into the warriors eyes before reaching down with his left hand to grip the daggers hilt.

After gripping the daggers hilt Razyel gives it a little wiggle left and right to loosen up the wound abit more to make it easier to pull the dagger out, not caring how much discomfort or pain it puts the warrior in. After slowly sliding the dagger out Razyel casts it onto the floor before offering a hand to the prone warrior. "Lets go get you cleaned up now then shall we?" if Echar takes Razyel's hand then he would help Echar to his feet by hauling him up and turning to look at the rest of the group before back at Echar. "I take it your fine to walk on your own without my assistant?"


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Talic stared at Tormen as they backed away from each other and listened to their superior. Talic was silent but kept his eyes locked on Tormen, staring at him with a bloodlust that bordered on obsession, his hatred for the True-born knew no limits. This whelp had sought to trick him, and he was most certainly going to pay for it of that Talic was certain, he would end up with a knife between his shoulderblades and a hole in his head. 

As the Dracon left Tormen turned to Talic and held his hand out, Talic spat on the warrior's hand, *"I will drink your blood True-born."*he hissed before turning and making his way out of the room. he would go to the Wych Cult show, if their kabal was trying to side with them then important figures would be there, which also meant that important warriors from other kabals would be there too trying to win the Wyches' favor. He would watch them from the shadows and find one or two to kill and spill their blood, he licked his lips as he thought about how he would kill them, he would most certainly need to make a statement.

Maybe skin one of them and then hang them in an area that their kabal frequents? He went over his options as he made his way towards where he could get transportation.


----------



## komanko

The blade scraped against the stone floor, the noise was unpleasant to Thal’s ears yet he continued, running towards the closer warrior who began to turn towards him, alerted by the scraping sound. Thal hastened his run closing the remaining distance quickly so the foe won’t have too much time to prepare for the upcoming assault. Thal smiled as the warrior began raising his sword in defense, he then lunged at him and sliced vertically with his sword, in the same uppercut motion he planned, to his surprise the warrior blocked the initial attack but then something changed in his stance.

Thal saw the warrior stumbling a bit forward, while the warrior stumbled Thal finished his attack, slicing downwards with his sword, cutting through the warrior’s collar bone. Blood splattered from the wound, the warrior was not dead yet and Thal finished him quickly with a vertical slash which sent him flying to the ground dead. The gushing blood splattered against all of Thal’s armor, black stains, so sweet, any dark eldar would admit it. As the warrior fell Thal noticed a dagger etched in his back, “*So that’s what made him stumble forward…*” Thal noted partially in anger and partially in happiness. This meant that the kill was not completely his, it angered him, but at least the did was done.

Thal quickly turned towards the second warrior, sword upfront in defensive position. Yet when he completely turned to him he only managed to see him falling to the ground, backwards. Waiting a moment and seeing that the warrior doesn’t move Thal approached with sword drawn towards his neck and listened, his breathing was steady, sleep alike, he was knocked out by the blow he received. Turning away from the unconscious warrior Thal saw the veteran he helped grinning, “*Looks like there might be a real warrior amongst our new brothers after all*.” The veteran said, Thal smiled back and laughed, “*You are not too bad yourself, would be interesting to fight you. Holding against two, no, three, opponents together is not an easy thing.*” Saying that Thal remembered that he did not introduce himself to the veteran, bowing down he said, “*Excuse me for my rudeness though; I forgot to introduce myself, Thal'rah Dirth’raheal, trueborn, but you may call me Thal if you want to. What might your name be?*” Before the warrior could reply Thal heard a door sliding open from across the room.

Turning towards the door Thal saw an imposing figure entering the room, he was clearly a high ranking eldar, and he was quickly followed by three other insignificant figures probably his bodyguard or something similar. On the armor of the major figure appeared a dull blue painted symbol of the Torturous Bite Kabal. Thal’s Kabal. Looking at him ones more it finally struck Thal why the one seemed so familiar, he heard many people talking about him and he recalled him from one of the description he heard. It was Dracon Xllian.

He laughed as he noted that he brought the new recruits just in time. So apparently Thal was wrong and the three eldar around him were simple recruits and not his bodyguard. The Dracon’s laughter and jolly face quickly turned into an expression of hatred and rage as he saw Araklyd, the leader of the attackers, he was leaning over the eldar who was tempted earlier with a knife in his hand ready to strike the final blow.

Slowly the fighting around them died out as all realized that the Dracon was in the room, a quick movement from the Dracon placed a pistol in his hand, quickly aiming it at Araklyd’s face he ordered him to get up. Xllian then began reminding him of his origin and that unlike Araklyd he was halfborn. He then aimed the pistol away and grabbed the veteran by the throat telling him that he is still needed alive yet probably not for long, at least Thal interpreted this so. 

Dracon Xllian then let go of Araklyd’s throat and addressed his helpers whom he told to get out of the room. He then motioned everyone to come closer, telling them that the Kabal wants them to find a way to strengthen it, there were two things which caught Thal’s attention in the Dracon’s words, he mentioned a wych cult, and vendors. Both of them were good for Thal, one to improve his fighting hopefully, even if just from watching, and the other to get better equipment.

With that said the Dracon left the room, leaving all of them to themselves, Thal already knew what he had to do yet he had a small opportunity here, he walked towards the unconscious eldar that the veteran knocked out, he was simply going to “borrow” the eldar’s sword before going out and making his way through the streets towards the Wych cult of Acrimony’s arena.


----------



## BlackGuard

Xole soaked the words in carefully, digesting them one by one as time seemed to slow down. The Mon-keighs of the so-called Imperium of Man, a wretched creation born upon the backs of creatures that were barley worthy of being beasts of burden. Who were they to lay claim to the galaxy that his kin dominated for countless millennia. He would enjoy tasting their stale, yet almost wild tasting blood, he would enjoy the screams of their women upon defilment ... their children as they weeped over the melted and bloodied remains of their parents. He relished it all. He had never tasted mon-keigh blood when it was still fresh before, although he had -- in some shady backdoor deal or another, acquired a small vial of it for his own ends. It was relatively old, and cold, it lacked the life-essence of the creature it was taken from. Though his mind had raced that day as it tried to imagine what true mon-keigh blood would taste like ... 

He snapped out of his reprieve at the sound of the word 'Tau'. The younglings as he knew them, an upstart race that had seen some interest in the streets of Commorragh, for what reason he knew not. The general belief was that they maintained little link with the warp and therefore She-Who-Thirsts could not claim them. Their technology was advanced, but beyond those things he knew absolutely nothing.


He kept his eyes upon the ground out of sheer respect, 'Why? I know full well the kind of 'greetings' our kind give and they are never anything beyond shallow ... I come before you lord, for you are the only one of true interest. You hold power, influence, and if one such as we are to excel or advance -- we must always keep ourselves in the presence of those above us. I seek nothing more than the advancement of this kabal, so that as it rises -- so to do I.'

One another point he fired immediately after with another question,

'What do you mean my lord, when you say the hard part will be holding onto it? Do you expect resistance or simply inter-kabal rivalry?'


----------



## dark angel

FFElammakil waited until the Dracon, Xllian, had marched from the room, cape fluttering, before he directed his attentions to the infantile Eldar. If it was by reputation alone, Elammakil could claim to know Xllian. Personally, he did not want to. He was an instrument, not a friend. 

‘Pretender,’ Hissed Elammakil, eyes darting across the armour of the Half-born, which, in a moment of laxity, had bumped into the elitist Trueborn. ‘You are garbed in the flesh and armour of a Trueborn, and yet you are impure.’

He straightened, steel-dipped muscles burning in an awkwardly languid movement. The fingers of his right hand, long, taloned things, weaved their way around the thrust-pommel of his triangular blade. The notched, serrated edge gleamed upon his hip, flat against his segmented armour. The blade had once belonged to his and Direngr’s grandfather, before the raider’s untimely death.

‘You have a crude mindset, pretender. An interesting one, perhaps palpably pathetic. You Half-born are jealous beings, it is understandable.’ Each word was prolonged, a serpentine hiss from between his purple-blue lips, the only colour upon his face. ‘How does it feel, whelp, knowing that you will never amount to the glories of the Trueborn? You will forever be overshadowed by us, forever our disloyal, little… Servants.’

He made to move for the doors which the Dracon and his Trueborn had left through, strong, determined strides clearing the space between him and the Eldar in several seconds.

‘And pretender; do stay out of my way in future. Your boorish features would not suit my trophy chamber.’ 

Now, he would speak with Uncle, whether the Archon wanted to see his pompous nephew or not.


----------



## Lord of the Night

The main doors of the hall slid open as a Dark Eldar strode out, he immediately caught Visarys' attention as the most dangerous figure in the room, his attendants didn't even register in the raider's mind. His armor was elaborate with a bluish tinge, and the symbol of the Kabal adorned his chest. He was not as handsome as Visarys though, with a broad face and big eyes he had an almost human-like gaze. Visarys suppressed a snicker at the thought of such a thing, Dracon Xllian likely wouldn't find it as amusing as he did. His quip brought the snicker out anyway, but the Half-born had an excuse for it now.

Suddenly the Dracon's hand darted up, a blast pistol aimed directly at the warrior who had knocked Visarys back. Araklyd he called him, Visarys smiled, the vermin had a name now. As the Dracon spoke Visarys absorbed every word, simply put the Kabal needed aid and it was up to them to find it. Visarys' eyes gleamed, he knew exactly where to go and who to speak to for this. The Dracon left without another word, his attendants trailing after him like good little sycophants.

The raider's attention was brought back to the Trueborn he had knocked earlier. Visarys had lost interest in him several seconds ago but decided to humour him, if the Trueborn thought him an infantile weakling who could be prodded, so much the better for the future.

As it droned on, citing tired old insults against Half-borns for their perceived weaknesses Visarys made a note of everything on the Trueborn, this wouldn't end here, Visarys certainly didn't intend it too and if this Trueborn was as much of a Dark Eldar as he was boasting then he wouldn't let it end here either, despite his claims of not caring. As the Trueborn strode past he made his last threat, Visarys waited until they were right next to each other to speak.

"Servant yes, but only as long as I choose to serve. You will always be a slave to the cruelest master of all Trueborn, family." Visarys swaggered towards the exit, spinning around and walking backwards to face the Trueborn, letting his final words to the elitist make his opinion clear. "But I have much more important things to do then spar with the Archon's pampered nephew, at least for now."

Allowing himself a chuckle at the confrontation's temporary end Visarys spun back around, exited the room and made to leave the Kabal's headquarters. He knew where to get the help he needed, and how to get that help. It wouldn't be easy, it never was, but Visarys despised things that were easy. Especially those who were easy to predict, he hoped that the Trueborn wasn't one of them, it would make things so much more fun. Running his fingers over the hilts of his serrated swords Visarys leapt off the final stairs to the Kabal building's entrance and laughed. So far his Kabal career was going well.


----------



## emporershand89

Beithir watched as the naive warrior died under the hail of splinters that pierced his body from the torso up. He writhered in pain as the venom reacted quickly and cauterised the wound, keeping as much within it's victim. He spasmed as it reached the heart and looked at Beithir with a face of pure rage.

"Fuck you bitch," was all he could manage before it reached his brain and he died from an anurism. Beithir smiled, knowing she had done well; and looked up as a very tall and imposing eldar walked into the room. It must certainly have been Dracon, for whom else would be so regal yet so deadly; so handsome yet so cold. He came in and spoke, telling them of the glory to come, but obvious he cared little for his warriors personally. beithir had seen it all before, motivational speeches, propaganda, you can only beleive so much.

As everyone decided on where to go, Beithir kept Thal in her sight, intending to find out more about this warrior and what exactly he was; why he was so attractive in his own way. She could tell he was going somehwere with death and blood, but she was interested to see if it was similar to hers.

Queitly she drifted towards him, keeping her face nuetral so as no to betray her emotion and waited to see what would happen


----------



## Lord Ramo

Tyaer'r leapt at her target,landing precisely on her back and bringing her crashing to the ground. She took the weapon out of the female Dark Eldar's hand with a small cut, looking on in satisfaction as blood was drawn in a thin line along the hand. Her other hand reached up and grabbed the dark eldar's hair, and her knife found a way to nestle as her throat. If Tyaer'r wanted she could have ended this pathetic half-borns life there and then, if not for the interruption.

The Dracon strode into the room, emanating arrogance as he took in the scene that lay before him. He singled out the more veteran warriors, the true borns and asserted his dominance over them, calling each by name as he moved over towards them blast pistol in hand. He had ornate weaponry, such weaponry that Tyaer'r hoped to have one day. Tyaer'r knew that she would have to get up off her target, and that she probably wasn't stupid enough to believe any lie she could come up with, but she would try anyway.

*"Sorry about that half-born, the leader knew you were coming behind him and was preparing to strike, I just saved you as you appear to be useful... Nice work on the warrior, though I don't know if thats your skill or if he is pretty blind.*" With that she sweeped from the room, her target was the wytch cults. She had a thought that she wanted to join these deadly and graceful women one day, so she would watch and try and gain some support for the kabal.

It appeared that Thal had the same idea, as did his admirer who started to shadow him, causing no end of glee for Tyaer'r. It was pathetic, how could a half born truely think that a true born like Thal would fall for her. Tyaer'r moved past her and up to Thal, speaking softly, *"I wish you hadn't had to make so much noise in your charge, you almost gave my attack away. Mind you it wouldn't have mattered anyway. An interesting way to attack an opponent, however maybe you are better than I thought. It does appear that your half-born admirer still wants you, how sweet."* She laughed a little as she spoke standing next to Thal for the moment. She wanted to see his reaction to her words.


----------



## Serpion5

*Nemele*

Curses! Nemele`s sneak attack had been pre-empted by a sneak attack from some other. Before she could glimpse the assailant, she felt a blade slide across her hand, causing her to drop her own weapon and she was pushed to the floor. Less than a second later, the blade was at her throat. 

Really? To die like this in a simple brawl over class? How humiliating. In the unlikely even t that Nemele was ever remembered for anything, it would only be as a clumsy half born who couldn`t watch her own back. The bitter sting of despair began to blend with the sting of her bleeding hand as she bit her lip and waited for death to come... 

But it didn`t. At that moment, the chamber doors slid open. Light footsteps, slow paced and deliberatly poised told her ears that this was a figure of authority. She could not see anything but a well dressed figure on the edge of her peripheral vision, but it was enopugh to hope. 

To hope? How sad...

The dracon, for who else would it be, carried a confident swagger as one by one he dissolved the arguments like a parent breaking up his squabbling children. 

Nemele felt the blade move away from her neck as the attacker leaned in and spoke to her;

'Sorry about that half-born,' Nemele recognised the voice belonging to Tyaer`r. 'The leader knew you were coming behind him and was preparing to strike, I just saved you as you appear to be useful... Nice work on the warrior, though I don't know if thats your skill or if he is pretty blind.'

And with that she was gone, not another word spoken. Nemele sat herself upright and fingered her bleeding palm. The bleeding had stopped, and only a slight pain still lingered. She stood and retrieved her weapon, sparing a glance as the dracon left the room. She looked over to Echar, being helped to his feet by one of the dracon`s entourage. She overheard the warrior offer to help get Echar cleaned up. 

_No, he`s mine to have._ Nemele thought jealously and approached. 

'Excuse me stranger.' Nemele said, placing herself at Echar`s side. 'I will see to this one`s care. You may adhere to your own business.'


----------



## revan4559

Razyel turned his head to look at Nemele and narrows his pupils slightly before stepping away from Echar. "He is all yours woman, I shall leave him in your care." With that Razyel turns away from her before leaving the room with his scarf like purple sash slightly flicking out behind him. As Razyel walked through the hallways of the Kabal's base he wonders what he should do: The Wych Cult he has no interest in other than their acrobatic way of fighting, the Reever Gangs he has no interest in at all, but then there is always going out into the streets and seeing what he can find to bring back to the Kabal.

After spending a few minutes wondering around the halls of the Kabal's base he decided he will go out onto the streets of the city to look for some help to bring back to the Kabal or just to hunt some heads of other of his Dark Kin to bring back and present to the Archon. After leaving the base Razyel looks up and around at his surrondings for the best places to remain out of sight and travel about the city as he was in no mood to get into a direct confrontation or be picked off by a wandering Mandrake....Hmmm Mandrakes Razyel thought, those stealthy creatures were the greatest Assassains of the Dark Eldar, ones which he hoped to match or even surpass but with the aid of some Mandrake's as forward scouts and ability to remove the leaders of the Mon-keigh and Tau it would make this raid easier. 

However due to their cannibalistic nature the Mandrake's would most likely be more content with killing and eating him so Razyel set off towards the Wych cult trailing behind the others of the Kabal incase they got into a fight which would allow him to avoid it along with giving him more time to keep an eye out for something interesting.


----------



## dark angel

Each of Elammakil’s steps were a loud, reverberating clatter. He was in a momentum now; marching along the obsidian hallways, keeping his head upraised. He failed to make eye contact with Dark Kin which he considered lesser than him, but also to those whom he knew that he had no right in making contact with.

In one of the hallways, he came across the Dark Eldar named Euripedes. He gave a shallow, only a hint of loyalty and respect in his movements. Euripedes was a tattooed, with taught, but powerful muscles beneath his heavily decorated armour. Vibrant swirls and dashes of purple glimmered against the black, snaking their way across his body. 

‘You are a great warrior, Euripedes,’ He began, his voice a sibilant, lyrical whisper. ‘An excellent, outstanding, example of the Trueborn. I could use an ally like you and your brethren, those who stand for the old ways - For the segregation and purification of our race, not one ruled by that whimpering mongrel, Vect.’

He paused, overturning his words in his head. 

‘If you are interested, arrange somewhere where we, and similar minded brethren, can meet. There is much to discuss, _friend_.’

Before Euripedes could return an answer, Elammakil was spinning with a swoosh, and along the hallway. He admired the obtuse, eye-hurting architecture of Commorragh; it was marvellous, with jutting spires and great coliseums occupying the upper levels, and the manses and pleasure palaces of lower-ranking Archons beneath. Further again, was the gangland. This was where the dregs and bastards met, where they formed into rabid, cannibalistic bands that caused havoc to the aristocratic Trueborn. 

Even the thought of the Halfborn made bile rise in Elammakil’s mouth, and his lips peel back to reveal predatory incisors. They were the throwbacks of genetic manipulation and experimentation, the children of unloving mothers, who would rather their child be carried in an amniotic sac than their own stomach.

Elammakil had the luxuries of an adoring mother, one whom enjoyed the excoriating pain of childbirth, who harboured dark passions for her children; viewing them as part of her, as perfect mirrors of her own young, lustful self. 

And yet, if he was to succeed in the political game, he would need the support of the impure breeds. He had witnessed one, a great warrior, not exceeding his own ambitions; with a deep, malicious hatred of the Trueborn. He was the perfect candidate. If Elammakil could break him, bend him to his own whim, then he truly was a masterful being. 

He made for the transport cradles, where the jet bikes and mobile platforms of the Kabal were housed. It was a short journey, one filled with pomp arrogance and scolding, sub-vocal curses. He found the Halfborn there, moving amongst the vehicles, running his hand along them occasionally, his movements like those of a snakes - Fluid, but tempered. If needed, he could fight his way out of most fights. 

‘Halfborn,’ He declared, encroaching on the Eldar. ‘Talic, we must speak. I have something to offer - An alliance, one which will benefit both of us..'


----------



## Santaire

Talic spat on the offered hand, snarling "I will drink your blood True-born." With that Talic turned and left the room. Tormen stoof, unruffled and began walking towards the area where the jetbikes were kept. Inside he was already working on a new plan now that his initial plan had failed. Talic would have to die, he was certain of that, but the others he was not sure about.

He moved through the corridors in the great fortress, brushing past other warriors with barely a glance behind him. He drew his blade and spun it on his hand, marvelling at the patterns inscribed in the blade. He tossed in the air, caught it by the hilt and sheathed the blade in one fluid motion. His skills may not match the warrior named Thal's but he was still formidable.

He entered the hangar where the bikes were stored and walked over to one of them. He ran a hand over it, rejoicing in the pain the barbs caused before mounting...


----------



## komanko

OOC: Clarifying. I am talking to Lord Ramo's character not to EH's.

The sound of footsteps was the first thing which alerted him to the presence of someone heading towards him, he quickly grabbed the sword from the ground not paying any attention to how it looked and in what condition it was, all he needed was another close combat weapon and this would do finely. Thal quickly straightened, standing up from his kneeling position and then turning around to face the new presence. It was the same women from before. She seemed overjoyed with something and Thal was already about to ask her if there is something she needs but she spoke first. She complained about how much noise Thal’s attack made, clearly she was not aware of the beauty of this dance, she pointed out that the “noise” he made nearly gave her attack away and Thal could not hold in the chuckle he had when he heard that. She then made some sort of an apology about him being a better fighter then what she originally thought him to be and also she laughingly said that his halfborn admirer was still interested in him. 

For a moment he was puzzled as he did not know who she was talking about, he looked around and then saw her, it was the same eldar from before that decided to practice nearby him. As he saw her his face twisted in what seemed to be a vile smile and he began to laugh madly, “*You really thought… That I will… Answer her call*!?” He said between each laugh. For some reason Thal found that new information extremely amusing and funny, with no apparent reason. “*Did you notice her combat stance!? It’s disgusting! I will, never touch something like that*!” He said, still trying to catch his breath in between each laugh. 

His mood then quickly changed, his face again wore a mask of blank emotions. Wooing that eldar would be a waste of time, on the other hand this one… She could make a fine slave if she was not to feisty and independent. Looking at the eldar in front of him he asked with an eyebrow raised, “*So, excuse me for asking but I do not think I know you, care to share your name with me? Because for some reason I think you know me, and if you do not I shall introduce myself again. My name is Thal'rah Dirth’raheal.*” He said and bowed gracefully and mockingly in the same time. Seeing that there is no threat around him he took a peek in the sword he picked up, it was a serrated blade, finely made just like all dark eldar weaponry, the small razor sharp teeth gleamed in the faint light which was emitted from the torches in the hall. The hilt of the blade was easy and comfortable to grip just like Thal's personal sword. The blade will do nicely as another weapon for Thal, while his smooth edged blade would cut clean and quick cuts at the enemy, quickly sending them to their death, this one on the other hand would cut slowly and painfully at the flesh of the enemy, tearing it open and inflicting increased amounts of pain with each hit, this one would do well in disemboweling a foe.

Taking his view off the blade he amusingly looked at the eldar in front of him and asked another question before awaiting her answers, “*So? Did you decide where you would be going my fine princess*?”

Edit: Withdrew the runes and stuff


----------



## Lord Ramo

Thal chuckled when Tyaer'r walked over to him, telling him off for the loud noise he made. She finished speaking when he responded, ridiculing the half born and her "dance", Tyaer'r joined in his laughter at the half born. The Half born would no doubt remember this, and how she had caused him to turn from her, though he always seemed to be moving away from her, it was the blood that coursed through her veins, not as fine as that of the true-borns. One thing was certain Tyaer'r would have to keep her eye on the half born from now on.

Thal fully introduced himself, Thal'rah Dirth’raheal, his full name was. He asked for her and Tyaer'r thought for a moment. It was no harm in giving this true born her name, though she was loathed for a half born to know her true name. She cared not if they knew her first name, but her last name held the power. She moved over to him, standing on tip toes as he was taller than her *"My full name is Tyaer'r Evethir'os, but don't spread it around, I don't want every to find out about it, especially half borns."* She whispered in his ear, a cruel smile on her face.

The Eldar focussed on his new sword for the moment as she responded before he looked up with an amused look. No doubt he had thought he could use her, just as she thought that she could use him. She would play along for now, see how far she could get before either it got tiresome or he found out. *"In answer to your question I am going to watch the deadly dance of the wytch cult. Care to join me, or am I going to have to fend off Half born scum on my way there alone?*" She asked with a hint of a smile on her face. She could make her way there regardless of whether or not he decided to join her.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Talic was stalking through the transport cradles, occassionally sliding his long fingers over the surface of the different vehicles, his mind wondering on what to do once he reached the Wytch Cult games. He heard footsteps behind him and led them on a silent, slow, chase throughout the cradles until it finally spoke up,_ ‘Halfborn,’_ it was that pompous whelp, the nephew of the Archon,_ ‘Talic, we must speak. I have something to offer - An alliance, one which will benefit both of us..'_

Talic turned and gazed at Elammakil with his red and purple eyes, no white or black tainting their strange beauty, and cocked his head to the side. He didn't stare at the warrior like another Eldar would let alone another semi-intelligent being with warp travel, it was a predatory gaze, the way a top beast would stare at something that might be prey. An alliance? With this one? It could be beneficial for him of that he was certain, aid the Archon's nephew and recieve a higher standing, thus allowing him to have the weapons and chances he wanted at killing other True-born.

He licked his lips, *"Speak."* he hissed, Talic could think of no better ally than this one, and he wanted to hear this proposal.


----------



## Lord of the Night

The sounds of intermittent gunfire echoing through the alleys were nothing new to Visarys, the slums of Lower Commorragh were his home, his battlefield and his lady love all in one. He adored it, the sense that any second a fight could break out for slim reasons, the diversity of hundreds of alien races all united by their desire for blood and coin, the roaming gangs on ground and sky that preyed on the unwary, and the near utter lack of safe housing that made the residents of the slums the hardiest in Commorragh. Visarys had been born in Middle Commorragh but he had raised himself here, while his parents had done their part educating him of the Higher Commorrite ways, Visarys had the best of both worlds.

As he swaggered unhelmeted through the dank streets many eyes watched him, a Kabalite raider was a rare thing down here and usually would be an ample target, but Visarys knew how these gutter vermin thought, after all at heart he was one of them. Only someone supremely confident in their safety would walk like he did, would keep their weapons hidden and would bare flesh for an easy kill. Someone like that was best left alone, lest his attackers find themselves in an unfavorable situation. And of course, he was known here. He had spent a good amount of his days in Null Town and the slums near it, most knew him by appearance and the few who didn't knew him by reputation. Nobody would bother him, and if anyone was stupid enough to try he'd show them what years in the slums trained an Eldar to do.

The tavern ahead was typical of Null Town. Dank, damaged and threatening all rolled into one package. Before he entered the Kabalite donned a hood to hide his appearance, these people couldn't see his face or the plan would face a serious setback. Visarys pushed the door open and strode in, eyes glanced at him but turned away quickly, not wanting to start a brawl by staring. Inside it was little better than outside, the air was dark and heavy with smoke from narcotics, fuel exhaust and spent power packs from rifles from alien workshops across the galaxy, and a few from Commorragh itself. Various xenos sat at the poorly maintained booths, nursing old liquor and smoking obscura sticks from the human worlds, Visarys had tried them once, they were far too weak for an Eldar's senses. "I need mercenaries, able men and women who want 10% of a Kabal's raiding prize in coin!" Visarys shouted. Most eyes immediately darted to him, mercenaries calling him over to talk with them as the offer of coin and slaves sunk in quickly. One group sitting in a corner booth was a mix of humans and one giant of an offshoot race, Visarys recognized it as an Ogryn amongst them. Another was a tiny group of Kroot that just barely reminded him of the winged Scourge cliques in the skies. He decided on the human group, humans went for coin easily and were predictable, at least most of them were.

The group was at least ten people. Six of them were full humans, all wearing armor of the Imperial Guard, two wore headbands colored crimson with camo fatigues, Catachan Jungle Fighters Visarys recalled from reading his mother's holo-encyclopedia's as a child. Two more wore greatcoats with dark hats that covered their ears, Valhallan Ice Warriors,and the final two wore the non-descript uniforms of a defense soldier for some backwards planet, they had likely all met here and joined forces. The ogryn sat silently, just watching Visarys through beady eyes, while all the others were visibly perturbed to be talking with an actual denizen of the realm they rented a place in.

As Visarys sat he marked the first phase of his plan as underway. He would have some troops on his side, of course 10% for mercenaries was utterly outrageous and the Archon would flay him alive for what he was about to do, if it was in earnest. With what he had planned, none of these mercenaries were coming back to Commorragh alive, or even in tiny pieces. But he was getting ahead of himself, they hadn't even said yes yet, but if they turned down an offer of 10% then they were either the smartest mercenaries in Commorragh or the biggest cowards in the galaxy, it was like Visarys had always said and believed. Only those who were bold would be victorious.


----------



## dark angel

‘Speak.’ Talic spoke, his voice a low, sibilant hiss. His eyes were darting, predatory; filled with barely-laced desire - For death, for the chance to split throats and cleave bodies. 

Elammakil was unperturbed by the Half-born. He felt no fear, no trepidation. He was far too egotistical, far too engrossed with himself, to an extent where he was overly confident in his own abilities. Talic was a skilled warrior, yes. One of the greatest amongst the young generation, in fact. But Elammakil was better. Talic was an hound: obedient, predictable and to be kept upon a tight leash. 

Elammakil was a feline: intelligent, predatory, moving with an alluring, fluid gait. He cared not for the troubles of others, unwilling to intervene in feuds and skirmishes, keeping himself above the level of the Half-born; knowing that the majority of them would simply cease to exist overtime, lost to the annals of history.

Talic’s hatred against the Trueborn was petulant and ridden with idiocy, but was certainly something which Elammakil could utilize in his favour.

The Archon’s Nephew smiled thinly, lips rolling back over filed teeth, glittering in the twilight. 

‘You are a monster,’ He began, stepping closer, keeping his voice low but commanding. ‘I like monsters.’

He paused, surveying the space above and around him. Rows of jet bikes, like spears of obsidian, sprouted from the walls in well-organized, brutal phalanxes. Some of their jagged prows were festooned with trophies and fetishes, and a shudder of adulation rippled along Elammakil’s back. 

‘Begrudgingly, I admit - I have some form of respect for you, Half-born,’ Lied Elammakil, his porcelain features remaining calm, calculating. ‘You are a great warrior, Talic. Exceptionally so, in fact. I need you, and you, I believe; need me.’

Once again, he paused. This time, he crossed his fibre-muscled arms across his chest, tensing. Again, he stepped closer.

‘I an offer you untold riches, technology which your breed are not privy to. I can offer you the heads of Trueborn, Talic. I care not for our race, it is a pathetic shadow of its former self, fallen into decadence and.. You.’

He made an odd gesture with his hand, indicating Talic.

‘You can have all of this, in simple exchange for loyalty and protection,’ He produced his hand, holding it out. ‘What do you say, whelp?’


----------



## komanko

The dark eldar slowly, step by step, approached him. Upon reaching Thal the eldar stood on her toes and whispered softly into his ears, her voice honeyed and pleasant. He could smell her, he smelled the True born in her and it smelled good. Her lips nearly touched his ears when she finally whispered, she introduced herself in a peculiar way, she said her full name was Tyaer'r Evethir'os but it did not seem like she was looking for acknowledgement and glory as she did not want it to be spread around, as she spoke Thal could feel her seething hatred towards the Half Borns, he understood that they were weak and pathetic yet he did not understand where all that hatred came from, it was... unnecessary, that was the closest term he could think of. 

After introducing herself she backed away a bit, it seemed like she was thinking something over yet that expression quickly changed and she answered Thal's last question. She said that she was going to watch the wytch cult just like Thal was about to do. She then invited him to accompany her there and "help" her fend off the half born scum which was all around them, she said it with a cruel smile. Thal realized that she was trying to use him yet it did not matter, he was not about to be used by anyone, at least not before he accepts such a thing... Or maybe, yes, it was a great plan, he knew what he would do now...

A moment of silence passed between the two, looking to both sides he saw the Half Born from earlier, who desperately tried to impress him with her battle moves, unsuccessfully so. Focusing his look back on the eldar which he now knew by the name of Tyaer'r he said mockingly and jokingly at the same time, "*Oh my dear lady, I would be honored to accompany you to the Wytch cult arena and protect you from the aweful Half Borns which lurk at every dark corner. My skills are at your service*." He then bowed deeply on purpose and attached his new sword to his belt. He then daringly put a hand around the Tyaer'r's shoulders, forcing her to come near him, "*Shall we move then, my dear?*" He asked smiling nastily


----------



## emporershand89

Beithir, having followed Thal carefully as to attract the least amount of attention watched as he entered an wynch Cult arean, where he waited within with another of the Half-borns from the chamber that Beithir recognised to be Tyaer'r. Beithir had been concerned with her, but nothing stood out to make her worry, so she didn't; until thal turned and addressed her.

"Oh my dear lady, I would be honored to accompany you to the Wytch cult arena and protect you from the aweful Half Borns which lurk at every dark corner. My skills are at your service." Beithir britsled with rage, why should that slut get his attention, she didn;'t even have the skills to compare to Beithir. Hand on her blade she was temped to just charge and take care of her here and now. However, common sense reasserted itself and sh let her tense muscle loosen; hoping that Thal hadn't noticed.

Well of course he had noticed, but what his reaction was, she couldn't tell for he grabbed Tyaer'r and proceeded into the arean. Beithir was going to get that slut, a scar at least, death if possible. 

_Wait thats not you_ her common sense reminded her. she realised that, despite her taking to Thal that this was not the way to conduct oneself. she would need time to reexamine herself. Glancing at the arean, she turned and head toward the old side of Commoragh, where her parents still lvied making their humble trade of food


----------



## Lord Ramo

Tyaer'r introduced herself to the warrior. She didn't want everyone to know her name, they would have a power over her. They would find out in time at any rate she hoped so for now it mattered not. The warrior was an oddity she had to admit. He was a true born, she was sure of that, but at the same time he didn't act like a complete and utter true born. he would have been arrogant and demanded her name, something she only just picked up on now.

After she asked would he accompany her, she cared not either way she would have her fun he spent a few moments looking from side to side. She followed his gaze discreetly watching as he focussed on the half born that admired him for but a second before he turned to Tyaer'r and boldly put his arm around her, saying that he would "protect her". Tyaer'r was instantly suspicious, he had put her arm around her, an action that normally would find her knife buried in his arm before the other went for his chest.

But this was not the case, she had guessed his plan, or at least she thought she had guessed his plan, and for now would play along for a bit. She was bored and it may provide her with a bit of entertainment for now.* "Bold move, how did you know that I wasn't going to plant my knives in you?"* She asked as one of her hand dropped to her waist. She was ready to draw one of her knives at all time now if either the half born woman following Thal attacked her, or if something else did. Maybe he thought he could humiliate her, but that would not be the case. For now she had no plan except go along with Thal's and see what happens.


----------



## unxpekted22

Visarys: As the humans turn around to face you, you quickly realize their armor, though similar in style to that of Imperial Guardsmen, is not marked as such at all and oddly weathered faces with a dim yellow glow behind black lensed eyes makes you immediately aware that they are not human at all. There are several species in the tavern, some of which you recognize and some you don’t. The room goes quiet for a moment due to your exclamation.

A moment later this silence is broken, filled by half of the people in the tavern bursting out in laughter, one piratical looking being boasting out, _“As if we’ll fall for a flat deal like that!”_ A reptilian creature near him turns toward you saying in response to his apparent ally, _“Aye! I could see through such a lie even if I had started bounty hunting yesterday!”_

A calmer alien sitting at a table near yours, directly in front of you looks up. His physiology appears similar to yours and other eldar but his flesh ha s a violet hue, the dark branches of his veins beneath the skin easily seen, and his eyes opaque._ “By what authority do you have to make such an offer kabalite?”_ he asks. He and many others who hear the question wait for a response.


Tormen: As you step up onto the jetbike, a pair of hands grabs hold of your arm and shoulder and throws you back down to the ground. You look up and find Dalotael towering above you. _“I don’t believe that is yours, don’t be a fool Tormen,”_ he says, then continues after you stand back up, _“That likely does not even belong to the Kabal, and if its owner returns and sees you clambering around on it, they would kill you without hesitation, inside our territory or not.”_ 

You follow him as he makes his way outside.

Talic and Elammakil: you make final statements about the agreement.

Tormen, Talic, Elammakil, Thal, Tyaer’r, Beithir, Razyel and Draco:

Upon leaving the room which Tyyrn held his meeting all of you pick up your individual splinter rifles, which had to be left outside the doors; this was Tyyrn’s order of course. Eventually all of you make your way through the lower levels of the Kabal’s main spire and find your way out of the spire’s main entrance. Immediately outside the large archway is the main bridge connecting the spire to the Torturous bite’s inner circle of Commorragh territory. Dalotael and Euripedes exit the archway at the same time as all of you.

Just ahead of you resting on one of the bridges ledges are Araklyd and Brujjn. Dalotael and Euripdes make their way over to them first of course. Euripdes speaks to Araklyd but nothing can be heard. Right after, Araklyd turns his head toward Elammakil with what looks like is possibly a smile emerging across his permanently grimacing face. 

_“Elammakil! Our lord’s nephew. You must have entered the room after I began cleansing the pack a bit.”_ Followed by a few laughs from the group of four, _“Good to have you among us,”_ he adds.
Euripedes turns his tattooed head toward all of you, with an extended arm gesturing down the long bridge pathway he says simply, _“To the Wytchs’ arena, shall we?”_

Once across the bridge, Beithir makes the decision to ditch the group and moves way in the opposite direction.

It takes no time at all for the denizens of the city to notice such a large group coming from the Kabal’s main spire, and in moments merchants of all sorts are upon you. Shouting words that drum against your ears, _“Bring slaves!”_ _“Souls!” _ _“Raid”_ _“May I interest you in…”_ so on and so forth. An area that used to primarily belong to a Hellion gang by the name of The Lords of Dissent, the people in the Torturous Bite territory are eager to see their location begin to thrive with the presence of an up and coming Kabal. 

None of the people seem to have anything of real interest and the group pushes through the crowd with Araklyd, Brujjn, Dalotael, and Euripdes at the fore. About half way to the Wytch Cult keep, Araklyd suddenly shouts, _“Look there!”_ but where he points none of you can see. Without another word Araklyd and Brujjn break left shoving people out of their way. They disappear into a set of dark alleyways between structures. Dalotael and Euripdes subsequently sprint further ahead, forward through the crowd soon disappearing behind masses of people. 

What to do: Continue on toward the Wytch arena on your own, splitting from the rest of the group or staying with others, follow after Araklyd and Brujjn, follow after Dalotael and Euripedes, or try talking with people in the street around you in which you can say or ask pretty much anything. If you do the last option do not state what race they are merely say your character picks out one of the ragged or robed figures wandering about you. You may also choose to notice that Razyel is no longer with the group and if so, you may choose to look for him if you do look for him you are allowed to find him, in which case you may declare your character’s intent to take action but you cannot actually have that action carried out in your post (like we practiced in the first couple updates).

Razyel: Because you decided to walk a bit behind the rest of the group, you do not even see the event of Araklyd and his three friends running off in chase of something. Instead, only moments before, a huge arm, scaled but covered lightly in brown hair, locks around your throat and upper chest pulling you aside behind a wall out of sight from the rest of the group. Your back is forced into the wall as the being has you face him. A bullish face, some armor and a good set of weapons about his form. 

_“I want in on this real space raid kabalite, and you’re going to make sure that happens.” His nostrils flare as they take in your scent, “I never forget a scent. If you get me into the raid I will help protect you and I have a few friends as well, who would do as I say. But if you don’t get me into the raid, I’ll kill you. What say you kabalite!?”_

What to do: You cannot get out of his hold on your own. Words are your only option at the moment. If one of your fellow kabalite warriors appears and finds you, you may speak to them as well (attack, don’t attack, etc…) You dont have to wait for others to post first. You can post and if after they post any of them come to your position you can post again with whatever you want to say to them.

Xole: Tyyrn chuckles, _“I must say, I think I would advise staying out of the presence of superiors. The more you’re in their shadow the less they tend to trust you. And what I mean is that everyone will be trying to take whatever they from you once we are back in the webway, unless of course you make sure they have reasons not to.”_

Just as he finishes his statement, you are brushed aside by something large, its bladed hands scraping across the side of your armor plating. It is a Wrack, exquisitely silent in its movements. On its chest is imprinted the symbol of a Haemonculi coven, that of the Dark Creed. The Wrack carries a small box, but what is in remains a mystery to you. It places the box on the opposite side of the room past Tyyrn who says, _“Send my regards to your masters”._

As the Wrack slides past you once more Tyyrn says to you, _“Come Xole. You shall help me with something"._ (continue reading below)

Nemele: Echar quickly ends up needing more and more of your support to walk on as the others leave the room and make their way to the spire’s main entrance. It becomes clear the Echar certainly will not be going out into the streets of Commorragh but you left unsure of what to do.

From the opposite side of the room Tyyrn re-emerges, with Xole following him. The two other warriors that the Dracon brought move to the sybarite’s side. Tyyrn stops at you and Echar with a raised eyebrow. He then tells the two warriors to take him and move him to Tyyrn’s own personal torture chambers to heal then saying, _“If I find him dead when I return, I will kill you both. Catch up with us as soon as you can.”_ The two warriors nod with their helms and Take Echar away.

Xole and Nemele: _“Nemele is it not?”_ asks Tyyrn, not waiting for an answer, _“I have some business to attend to with our local Hellion gang the Lords of Dissent. If you two help me it shall be rewarding for you both. If not, you may scurry along after your dribbling little comrades in their efforts on the aimless streets. Though I suppose of one of them manages to gain a secure alliance with the cult of Acrimony then they wont appear to be so dribbling would they? That could be you, so do whatever pleases you.” If you wish to aid me meet me by the main archway in ten minutes.”_

What to do: You may talk with each other of course. Decide what you each want to do. You can decide to meet Tyyrn at the main archway or go there and rather than wait for him make your way after the rest of the group. 

Beithir: Like the rest of the group, you also experience people in the streets prodding you for attention, shuffling your way through gathering crowds of low-life scum. 

As you make your way into the outer circle of the Torturous Bite’s territory something large suddenly whizzes past you with hysterical laughter and small jet engine sounds. The blood of a decapitated merchant who stood before you splashes across your face and chest. The street begins to clear, but three figures emerge from the side passage ways coming toward you rather than away. Each of them in leather like clothing, barefoot, and holding crooked blades and small spiked clubs. 

You recognize the symbols on their chests and tattooed on their shoulders, they are hellions form the gang called the Lords of Dissent. The one in front of you speaks, _“Look how these kabalites waltz through our streets like it’s their own! Your Archon stole these streets from us but we haven’t run away. These streets will belong to us again! Shall we make an example out of you? Hm?” _he asks while the other two laugh to themselves.

What to do: You can try fighting them, if so you can kill up to two of them. You can try talking to them if so I will have them respond accordingly next update. You can try to run, but you have to run back, you cannot go through them.



As always, PM me with any questions.


----------



## Santaire

Tormen nodded at Dalotael's reasoning and turned away from the jetbike. He walked alongside the veteran back to collect his splinter rifle. Other recruits were there as well. Tormen held the familiar weapon in his grip and smiled calculatingly. He slung it on his back before the group of Dark Eldar proceeded to leave the spire. Resting on one of the bridges that connected the spire to the streets of Commoragh was Araklyd and Brujjn, two of the veterans from earlier. Dalotael and Euripedes moved forward to talk with them. Arkalyd turnedd his head towards one of the recruits, Elammkil if Tormen remembered correctly and spoke although Tormen could not pick out the words.

As they continued onwards Araklyd suddenly shouted and he and Brujjn sprinted left. Tormen lost sight of them in a labyrinth of alleys. Dalotael and Euripdes sprinted forward through the crowds, soon dissapearing behind the mass of people. TOrmen made to follow them but then he noticed that Rayzel was missing. He turned and walked back the way they had come, keeping an eye out for the Dark Eldar warrior. He heard a murmur of voices from around the corner and glanced round. An alien had Rayzel shoved against the wall with one massive arm. Tormen quietly slipped his dagger out it's sheath. Hiding it behind his wrist he turned the corner and walked forward.

"Gentlemen," he said with a smile...


----------



## Serpion5

*Nemele*

As Nemele took Echar onto her shoulder and helped him to stand his wound reopened and began to bleed once more. Echar grunted in pain, oddly satisfying to her but all the same she pitied the poor sap for his suffering. This pain was not pain he shared willingly, and she felt a pang of guilt that she had enjoyed it. 

Odd, that she had become so smitten so fast. But what could she do now? Echar was fast losing blood, and she doubted they could safely make the trip to the haemonculus spires like this. The reality hit her quite harshly, eldar caught in Echar`s predicament quite often ended up dead... 

But then movement and sound caught her attention and she saw the sybarite re-enter the room. He was followed by one of the kabalites, Xole if Nemele remembered correctly, and two of the guards that had been with him before.

'Tyyrn?' Nemele asked. 'Echar is in no condition to join the raid. Be he can yet be salvaged.' She hoped the dracon would buy this, in truth nemele was unsure of just how capable Echar actually would be in a fight. 

Tyyrn nodded and turned to his two attendants, ordering them to take Echar somewhere safe. 'If I find him dead when I return, I will kill you both. Catch up with us as soon as you can.' 

The two kabalites took Echar from Nemele`s shoulder and hurried from the room. Tyyrn then turned back to her.

'Nemele is it not?' The sybarite asked, to which Nemele simply bowed her head. 'I have some business to attend to with our local Hellion gang the Lords of Dissent. If you two help me it shall be rewarding for you both. If not, you may scurry along after your dribbling little comrades in their efforts on the aimless streets.' He paused as Nemele considered the offer, then continued; 'Though I suppose of one of them manages to gain a secure alliance with the cult of Acrimony then they wont appear to be so dribbling would they? That could be you, so do whatever pleases you. If you wish to aid me meet me by the main archway in ten minutes.' With that, Tyyrn left, leaving Nemele alone with Xole. 

'You are Xole, correct?' Nemele asked. 'My name is Nemele, I look forward to working with you.' She hid her initial reaction well she hoped. He seemed bitter, almost resentful of simply being in another`s presence. Was he irritated that she had managed to uncover his name? She wondered if he was familiar with hers beforehand, it seemed a few of the others had inside information, but Nemele herself had only managed to discover a handful of names, and that had required a few unsavoury acts beforehand. 'Well, I for one see promise in ading the Dracon with this piece of whatever, what say you?'

She awaited his reply with a sweet smile, blatantly fake as if to mock his sour mood.


----------



## revan4559

Razyel continues to walk along behind the group minding his own business until a large thick scaly and partially hairy arm wraps around his neck, in the back of his mind panic flares as he is unable to reach his weapons and is dragged into an alley where he is shoved up against the wall and see's his attacker for the first time along with hearing his voice. Razyel's panic diminishes while he listens to the creatures proposal yet he becomes slightly annoyed when he hears that this warrior will hunt him down and kill him unless he gets him and his friends into the real space raid with the Kabal. Razyel considers his options very carefully about what he can do: He could attempt to fight off his attacker but will most likely end with him becoming severally injured or even dead, which he shivers at that thought. He then thinks that he could try to talk his way out of it and decides on that course of action before finally speaking, his lower jaw not being visable from behind his sash which hides it it seems as if the words just appear from nowhere.

"That is a very interesting offer Sir, and i shall like to take you up on that but if you would be so kind perhaps you can remove your arm from my throat and gather your friends? And then perhaps we can have a civilized discussion and come to some form of arrangement over a couple of drinks that I, Of Course, am willing to buy? What say you my very interesting fellow?" Rayzel then remains still as he listens to the creatures answer before hearing someone say "Gentleman" from the mouth of the alley. Turning his head the best he can to see who said it, he says another member of the Torturous Bite and lets out an annoyed sigh. _This idiot could ruin everything if he tries to intervene and if he doesn't he may want to try and get in on this deal which could potentially get myself some bodyguards for the raid and maybe a little standing within the Kabal...I shall not allow it,_ Thinks Rayzel.

Rayzel then turns his head back to look at the creature infront of him before once again talking. "Before you ask Sir he is no friend of mine so if you would be so kind to not do anything to me because of him, i shall allow you to do what you want to him. Even though he may be from the same Kabal that i am from, i do not know him and i don't really care what happens to him so deal with him how your see fit." Rayzel once again turns his head to look back at Tormen with a large grim smile on his face concealed beneith his sash. _Hopefully this brute listens to what i have said and will kill this idiot so it means i won't have anything to do with it, and i will be able to get a larger share of the spoils from the real space raid._


----------



## Lord of the Night

Surprising, was the first thing that Visarys thought as the 'humans' turned to face him. Their armor, upon a closer inspection was not of the Imperial Guard but rather designed to be of a similar appearance. That meant they were infinitely more dangerous than mere humans, there was only one reason to make armor like that. Infiltration. Visarys wasn't sure what they were, weathered faces with dark black eyes that glew a dim yellow. He had never seen a race like that, the Kabalite began drudging through the vast memories of holo-encyclopedias in his mother's collection to try and recognize the xenos that sat before him.

The crowd was a menagerie of aliens, both large and small, beautiful and hideous, all dangerous in their own way. Visarys doubted that any of them could kill him on a one on one duel, but that wasn't an option here, and all of them together could most certainly send him to She Who Thirsts. He suppressed the natural shudder that came with even thinking Her name, that wasn't going to happen. Visarys recognized most of the races here, the benefit of an extensive home library and his willingness to learn about the prey species of the galaxy, at least learn more about where to stab or shoot them for a slow kill like most others did. Visarys recognized a Dracolith, its crystalline skin making it stand out amongst the crowd. A cloaked alien that walked with the clear stance of a combat expert, a Scythian most likely. There was even an insectoid Vespid fluttering in a corner, Visarys was surprised, he thought they never left Tau space.

Most of the crowd had begun laughing at the audacity of his offer, that was to be expected. The denizens of Null Town and places like it knew how to tell an offer was too good to be true, Visarys had been offered deals like this before and he had always known them for what they were. But his bold play hadn't unfolded yet, he just needed to get them to focus on the reward rather than the risk, it wouldn't be easy but by playing on the innate desire for coin and blood. This would require some more audacity.

Visarys stood up, turning to face the xenos in the corner. He was the strangest here, he appeared to be an Eldar but his flesh was violet rather than the pale white of a Commorrite-born, the veins under his skin were easily visible and his eyes were opaque. He was not Eldar, Visarys could tell that even without looking at him, he didn't carry himself like an Eldar, he didn't feel like an Eldar, but Visarys could guess what he was. Lacrymole. A race of shapeshifters. He could be wrong, but he didn't know another race that could change its shape and this being was definitely not an Eldar. And if he was, then he was something that Visarys had never heard of before.

"A good question my brother," he answered. Pretending that this thing was Eldar would be a good idea for now, announcing what he was to the crowd wouldn't do anything to win him the creature's alligience. "I make this offer with the authority of the Kabal of the Torturous Bite, I make this offer as a child of House Melkarion, one of the oldest houses in Commorragh." Visarys turned to face the entire carnival of xenos, speaking clearly to make his intentions clear. "There is risk of course but what does not have risk, your very presence in Null Town means you risk dying every day in this slum for nothing more than the chance to receive an offer like this." He knew that was true, life here ended in one of two ways, either you got out and found prestige or you died in a back alley in some kind of deal gone bad.

"Do you really want to continue your lives here, when I offer you a chance for glory. The Torturous Bite is a newly born child, a place in its first real raid is only the first of what I offer you. Those who survive will earn the patronage of the Kabal, a permanent offer to join the court of our followers and to earn coin and blood beyond your comprehension. But of course I have one more offer to make," Visarys said, letting the final sentence hang in the air. "I offer you a chance to lash at the Imperium of Man, for that is who we will strike in the coming battle. The Guard clash with the Tau and we will reap a harvest of bodies and plunder, and there will be bloodletting beyond what you have fought in all your years in Commorragh. The Imperium has wronged all of you, either directly or through its foolish perspective on xenos. We are superior to them in every fashion, and I offer you a chance to prove it by massacring their weak soldiers and tearing down their armor of false superiority."

Visarys turned to face the 'Eldar' and asked his question. "What say you, brother?"


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Talic smiled, this True-born wanted to use him as a weapon agains this would be rivals, what a weak willed fool. He couldn't do the killing himself so he was recruiting Talic to do it, it was a good deal for himself of that he was certain, he now had the opportunity to kill as many True-born as he wanted and hopefully some higher ups also. It would also give this coward the idea that as long as he kept Talic busy he wouldn't get a knife in the back, a false pretense that Talic made sure that he would take full advantage of when the prime moment came about. 

His eerie eyes narrowed as he spoke, *"I accept your offer....sssss....."* he hissed in agitation, he would not call this one master, *"Who is the first target you wish me to make an example of?"* his body shuddered slightly as he thought about the bright future ahead of him, so long as he got the job done and did it well he was certain he would receive special.....treatment, new opportunities to kill and of course new equipment later on down the road. 

His tongue flicked out as he licked his lips thinking of the blood he would spill, he was anxious, yet he knew how to control himself and walked silently out of the Kabal's spire slightly behind and to the left of Elammakil as he waited for his new ally's answer.


----------



## emporershand89

Beithir looked at the three vagabond hellions that had so nearly taken her head off. They were nothing but street vermin, gangsters that worked for a local warband that had been crushed when the Kabal back when it had been aggressively expanding. Beithir was not new to these types of people, but still surprised that they would openly challenge her in the middle of the streets; her streets.

"Listen up you lot, turn back while you still can and I will forget your rude and stupid insult." She put her hands on her sword to make her point. 

"Oh no For'yjkri(Lady in Eldar), it is you who is going to be sorry, right after we've had some fun with that smooth skin body, hahahaha." They circled around her, with the middle scum bag throwing random thrusts her and there. 

"Well, don't tell Slaneesh I didn't warn ya," was all she said and she wipped her rifle off her back in one motion; shooting the first man in the head. Brains blew everywhere as his body fell back dead and she turned to the second. However, the third man had made his move and sliced the sword out of her hand, cutting her wrist and causing Beithir to curse aloud.

"Damn you scum," she twist and expertly grabbed his blade, pulling it away and then twisting it overhand and reversing it into his gut, gutting the man in his midriff. 

She then threw him aside as the second man wipped out a pistol and tried to shoot her point blank. She rolled behind some barrells, relising she had dropped both her gun and bade. All she had was her knife and the street sum was advancing towards her.

"Oh by Slaneesh, this sucks," she cursed as she pulled out her dagger, prepared to make a rush at him if given the chance.:ireful2:


----------



## BlackGuard

Xole listened to the Tyyrn's statement intensely, seeing his point. The closer he was, the more likely they thought he would stab them in the back. A good point, considering it probably would for his own advancement. Suddenly his armor was being scrapped and he staggered to the right a little, he looked up and back with a sneer on his face only to see a Wrack ... an actual Wrack. His blood ran cold, not with fear, but with desire. It was an experiment of the Haemonculi and by his markings of the Dark Creed, he knew absolutely nothing about them but had, on a rare occassion, seen their symbol around. 

The creature carried a box and set it behind Tyyrn, who in return asks him to wish his masters well. Xole could have cared less his eyes were upon the box ... what the hell was inside of it? Surely it was something of great importance to come from the Haemonculi themselves, to be delievered by one of their creatures. He pondered Tyyrn's words and the box for only a moment more, hardly noticing the creature walking by him again.

'Come Xole. You shall help me with something'

The kabalite rose to his feet and began to follow Tyyrn, his eye's flashed one more time at the box, memorizing it in every detail. Inevitably he would find out what lay within it. For now, he would play pet to his immeidate superior. They walked down the corridor with Tyyrn's bodyguards in lockstep behind and Xole kept his eyes straight forward. They rounded a corner and came upon two individuals. One was half dead, a warrior-type known as Echbar ... if he could remember, he might be wrong, but it didn't matter. All that his injuries confirmed was that there was a brawl in the meeting room. Apparently it was internal ... Tyyrn didn't seemed overly concerned by the sight at all. Not that the dark kin really did care but if it were an external threat he would surely have reacted. 

She began to half-beg the Sybarite to spare this warrior, his wounds deep and weeping. For a moment Xole relished in the thought that Tyyrn might kill the wretch right here. His memory was not dulled by his meeting with Tyyrn ... the woman was the same one he wanted from before. The damn warrior was whom she was initially attracted too. He smiled internally, while externally he showed nothing but disgust and bitterness. Tyyrn spoke words to his bodyguards to remove the warrior and ensure he was taken care of ... in the Sybarite's personal torture chambers. Xole made a mental note of it ... especially the part where it suggested he may be left undefended. 

Tyyrn wasted no time with introductions has he more stated, than asked for the woman's name -- it was Nemele, so Tyyrn stated. He logged it in his mind, relished the sound of it and the thought of her. She would be his, sooner or later. The Sybarite's offer was plain and simple, aid him in his personal venture and reap rewards. As the Sybarite walked away without another word, Xole considered his options as Nemele made her introduction to him and her opinion on the matter.

Her smile was annoying, blatantly fake in all regards. He considered it with relish, and remembered his external apperance was one of bitterness, it was, to be fair, the only expression he wore. He thought no reason to change it now, she expected it, 'Yes, Nemele. I agree. The Sybarite will surely reward us for our aid ... while wondering without any guarantee of success upon the streets offers nothing.'


----------



## dark angel

(OOC: All sanctioned by Xpek, he himself did the honour of writing for the NPC's.)

The streets of Commorragh snaked left and right, barbed street corners and twisting, whore-filled alleyways. 

Elammakil sniffed; the stench of blood-perfumes and soul-incenses pouring into his nostrils. He was clad that Talic had accepted his offer, but obviously, true to his nature, had merely snorted and marched off. 

Arkalyd, whom Elammakil had met at various formal dinners and banquets, jested to him, from several feet away. Elammakil merely smiled, a devious, cunning smile.

‘Arkalyd,’ He hissed, encroaching on the graceful warrior, cloak billowing behind him, like lavender wings. He gave only a half-serious bow, noting Arkalyd’s gaunt features and orange highlighted armour. ‘A honourable pleasure, brethren.’

He turned his attentions to Euripedes, who had a subtle grace about him; despite his tattoos and ghastly ornaments. 

‘Shall we?’ He smiled, and began to push deeper into the prongs of Dark Eldar and a multitude of Xenos bio-forms; from shape shifters to apish, gun-trotting monstrosities. Even the odd human stood out.

‘Our squad is weak,’ He snarled, as they walked through the crows, Brujjn on his left, Euripedes on his right. Arkalyd stalked ahead, head bobbing sideways every now and then. ‘In older times, the likes of the Halfborn would not be allowed to pollute our greatness with their presence..’

Euripedes laughed, a deep rumbling from within his throat, mouth closed, and said - ‘This is a true nephew of Direngr. As much as we hate them, we must realise their numbers are good fodder, and make us look better to those who live in these streets.’

He pushed someone leftwards, sending the Eldar reeling to the floor in a clatter of armour. 

‘Cattle, then. But who troubles over what the street-dwellers believe, dear Euripedes? I do not.’ Retorted Elammakil, with a deep laugh.

‘They are all merely pieces of the overall puzzle. If you ignore a piece, however much you may dislike it, you can never complete it. There will be a whole and your opponents will find it and exploit it without mercy. Stick with us, and things shall go well for you here in the low ranks of the Kabal.’ He gave a serpent’s smile, but did not look at Elammakil.

Arkalyd began his input with a laugh, harsh, guttural. He was listening, intently. ‘Not that we intend to be here for long..’

‘And that means, friend?’ Elammakil said, his voice dropping into a sibilant hiss. He lifted one eyebrow, and pursed his lips. 

Arkalyd turned, a skeletal, maddened grin upon his face. His eyes were wide, desperate. ‘And that means, friend?’ 

Elammakil snarled.. He was being mocked..

‘Don’t worry, Elammakil, we know you as well. Trust is nearly impossible to come by here, your back is safe with us.’ Euripedes intoned, his voice semi-humorous.

‘Harming the blood of Direngr,’ Dalotael rasped. ‘Wouldn’t get us far, that is for certain.’

‘Indeed,’ Euripedes agreed. ‘And you are hanging around these fools,’ He flicked his head towards the others, following like disloyal hounds. ‘Will not get you anywhere.’

‘What are your intentions, Dark Kin? What secrets am I not privy to?’ Elammakil said, drawing taut. His shoulders widened, and beneath his plate, his chest inflated.

No answer came from their throats, as in the next few seconds, they were bounding off into the crowd, armoured spectres, exuberantly decorated. 

‘Talic,’ Elammakil called, coming still. His newfound ally came to his side. ‘I head for the Wych Arena, if you wish to stay in my favour,’ He smiled maliciously, licking his angular teeth. 'You will come. Perhaps there, your blades can lick flesh.'


----------



## komanko

She recoiled at first, trying to back away from Thal, it made him unsure of his move but then she suddenly relaxed, he did not know what was passing through her mind but he guessed that she feared he might try to harm her, this was a clever assumption yet not in this case as Thal was not known for his subtlety. Tyaer’r spoke, her voice soft and yet strict at the same time, she admitted that it was a bold move and asked him how he knew that she won’t stab him with her knives. Thal did not answer at first, he took his time, instead he looked at the other warriors; they were all beginning to move out of the hall and so did Thal decide to do. He began walking, forcing Tyaer’r to accompany him by simply tightening the grip around her for a mere moment; he still did not answer her question not that it mattered to him, he will answer it soon enough yet he wanted to check his rifle first which was laying on the outside wall of the hall just behind the doors, he was ordered to leave it there after all.

The doors were already open as other warriors were moving through them, looking to the right he saw his rifle still leaning on the wall at the same position he put it earlier at. Seeing that it was alright he finally spoke, “*I did not know for sure how you will react, but be sure that I have no intention of harming you, at least for now.*” He smiled viciously and truly at the same time, he did enjoy her company after all, it was nice to find people to talk with even if they will end up to be enemies in the end. “*And, I also hoped that you won’t be rude enough to plant one of your knives in my chest, you know, those things are rather painful to pluck out…*” He jokingly said. He let go of her, moving to his rifle to pick it up, only two rifles were still there, and his was one of them. After picking his rifle back and strapping it to his back he moved towards Tyaer’r’s rifle too, all his weapons were at place so he simply held the rifle with his right hand while again putting his left hand around Tyaer’r. He had several reasons to hold it, one, it would make it harder for her to kill him if they ended up fighting, two, he simply felt like having some protection from whatever that might attack them, and three, he will be able to hand it to her quickly if they end up on the same side of the firefight.

Accompanied by Tyaer’r he made his way out of the Kabal’s main spire, like the rest of the warriors he walked towards the spire’s entrance and exit, right after the entrance there was an archway, a magnificent piece of work, decorated, and nice to look at, it was lit with many unseen light sources, beyond the archway stood a bridge which connect the Kabal’s spire to the rest of the city. “*So, want to share with me how you end up here in this low leveled Kabal?*” He said smilingly while looking at Tyaer’r. They soon made their way past the bridge, reaching the Kabal’s inner circle of Commorragh territory. They were all invited by the one known as Euripedes to walk with him to the Wytch’s arena, a grand idea that was, as he and Tyaer’r were already making their way to the Wytch’s arena he did not mind more company.

Shouts, calls, whispers, Thal could hear all of these when the merchants noticed that a rather large group of warriors was passing by, from what he heard most of the goods they offered were overpriced, he could easily find these goods in other parts of the city for a much more decent price, and for now he also did not need any of those goods. With combined effort the group of warriors pushed all the merchants aside, making their way through the crowd. Thal noticed that the group began to thin their numbers dwindled as they began separating to take care of their own businesses. Someone shouted something about something yet Thal did not pay any attention, he was busy admiring his companion’s body, she looked well, and he found himself strangely attracted to her although he did not plan it to happen. He looked up to take the thoughts about Tyaer’r from his mind just to see four of the warriors who walked with them darting away, they split in two groups one running forward while the other ran left.

“*I see that out friends have gone to tend to their own secret businesses, shall we move on Tyaer’r Evethir'os, my dear lady, to the wytch arena?*” He looked at her, stopping dead in his tracks and awaiting her answer and for her to lead on, he did not mind now to where they are going, her company was pleasant enough for him, he simply wished to follow her for now.

OOC: Sorry if I godmodded a bit with your character Ramo, hope its fine, just throw me a PM if you are unsatisfied and want something edited  Also, I’ll let you decide if you notice what Thal is going through right now


----------



## Lord Ramo

As she had calmed down when Thal put his arm around her she asked her question. He didn't respond initially, instead stared away for a moment. He looked at other warriors as she looked around, taking in the crowd of warriors. She was uneasy still about that Half-born, she seemed to have some sort of obsession with Thal, and as such she must have viewed Tyaer'r as some form of threat. Tyaer'r felt the grip tighten just enough to tell her that Thal was guiding her out of the room and after pretty much the rest of the warriors. Tyaer'r wasn't afraid of Thal at the moment, he had no reason to kill her, in fact she could be useful to him.

As they exited the hall, they were the last two members of the new Kabal to leave. Thal spoke quickly to her, telling her that he didn't know how she was going to react and that she needed nothing to fear from him for the time being. He then made a joke at how he hoped she wouldn't be so rude as to stab him. She laughed at this, *"I won't stab you, well not unless you turn on me that is."* she joked. Their splinter rifles were left by the door, propped in how they had actually left them. Thal let go of her for a second and took his, but blocking her way to hers. She waited as he strapped it to his back before he took hers in his hand before wrapping his other hand around her once more.

She cared not that he held her weapon, in fact it made it a little easier for her to move, and he could always hand it to her if she needed it. They caught up with the rest of the warriors before heading into the crowded streets below. The second the armoured forms of the Kabal entered the streets figures rushed over, trying to sell crap merchandise to the Dark Eldar group. Tyaer'r ignored all of them, the path being forged ahead of them by others in the group as they moved forward. Thal asked how she ended up in a low level Kabal. Something seemed a little off with him, he wanted to know about her history and was intent on her form, though most Dark Eldar males were.

She thought for a second how she would respond, it mattered little if he knew about her past, its not like it contained anything that would come back round to harm her. He was a true born like her, if it was a half born she would be a lot less inclined to speak to them, let alone allow them to walk with their arms around her and on her weapon. Besides Thal was a good warrior, judging by the skills that he had shown in training before the scuffle, and she knew she had been watching him closely. *"Well Thal, my history is rather short and to be frank a bit boring. I was born into a typical backstabbing noble household, my mother teaching me what I needed to survive on. She thought that I would be some form of pet or something, as she didn't fully realize my potential until it was too late for her, she paid for her life as she grew jealous of my abilities."* She paused for a second, looking at him in the eyes before she continued, *"I joined the Kabal as I wanted to travel, make a name for myself, not utilizing my full name, can't have half born knowing where I come from now. This Kabal was broadcasting about a real-space raid so I joined it. How about you companion, what is your reason for being here Thal?"*

They moved on for a bit before suddenly without warning, four Dark Eldars, the true borns that had attacked the half borns of the Kabal, charged into the crowd splitting into two groups. Whatever they saw didn't effect her she was sure of it, in fact she thought they were trying on dumping the rest of the group. Thal asked her what she wanted to do, he was obviously content with her and wanted to continue on with her. She flashed a wicked smile at Thal, *"I think Thal that it would be best to do as you say and move on to the wytch arena. Besides the others were a bore to be with."* She said as she gently pulled him along with her.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Talic followed behind Elammakil like loyal hound, he was a few feet behind him, enough distance so that he would not interupt his conversation but close enough to protect him should the need arise. He listened to the conversation half-heartedly, these fools had a plan for Khaine knows what, ascension through the ranks and things of that nature. Talic had no interest in such trivial things his purpose, his wants and needs, were much more basic and simpler than that, he wanted to spill blood plain and simple. To watch his victims spasm in pain as their death was brought upon them, to slice through their skin just so so that they lived through as much pain as possible until finally passing into the abyss. 

His eyes watched every passerby as if they were a potential threat, indeed many of them were, such was life out here in the streets of Commoragh and he was quite familiar with it himself. He remembered being chased down as a child, growing up running from predators until finally he himself had become the predator and the True-born had become afraid of venturing into his area of the dark city, they still feared him and those that didn't soon would of that he was certain. 

Elammakil turned to tell him that he was heading to the Wych Cult arenas and that he should join him, his tone could be dismissed but Talic hissed at the way Elammakil had worded the statement, *"I thirst for blood, let us hope that my blades may lick the flesh of someone soon."* He had become accustomed to drinking the blood of his victims early on in his life and the taste and need for it had only grown over time as he kept on killing. How he drank the blood changed every time but more often than not he would lick the blood dripping from the wounds he was inflicting before finally tearing the person open to get inside, drinking the victim's blood from their arteries and heart as they bled out and died.

He licked his lips as he thought about his next kill, who it would be, how he would kill them, what he would do with their body, he shook in anticipation as he followed Elammakil towards the Wych Cult arenas


----------



## unxpekted22

Tormen: You look into Razyel’s eyes with deep intentions. It looks like the large mercenary is about to do as Razyel says and attack you. You realize there would be no point in a brawl with this creature, no benefit for you. If Razyel thinks he doesn’t need the help of his Kabal, then so be it, but surely you will not take this more personal treachery lightly? 

Whatever you think about what has just happened, for now you decide to take a few steps backwards bringing you back into the street and following the rest of the group to the Wytch arena. 

Elammakil, Thal, Tyaer’r, Talic: None of you decide to follow Araklyd and Brujjn, or Dalotael and Euripedes who all sprint off through the busy streets after something except Draco who hesitates for a moment but then sprints after Araklyd and Brujjn. Through the commotion none of you noticed that Razyel and Tormen separated from the group, but Tormen shortly rejoins the group taking the rear. 

Tormen: do you tell any of your fellow kabalites of what happened with Razyel?

All of you continue on your way toward the Wytch cult’s citadel for a short time before two familiar figures make their way through the crowd toward you. It is Brujjn and Dalotael. Brujjn walks with a straight back, a crazed smile, bloody punch dagger in hand, some on his cheek, and the closer he gets the more dark stains of blood you notice upon his black armor. Dalotael’s sabre is bloodied as well, though his face remains calm. Draco, Araklyd, and Euripedes do not return.

The two of them say nothing except Brujjn with, _“The two of us will continue going to the Wytch arena with you lot.”_

You have been surrounded by shanty broken structures for about twenty minutes now as a grand structure of immense proportions rises behind them. Huge spiked spires rise from circular walls a hundred stories high and decorated citadel and housing structures for the Wytch Cult of Acrimony are attached at opposite ends of the arena. You will be inside soon now.

Do you any of you have any thoughts concerning Brujjn, Dalotael, and the others? Anything to say? As you come to a bit of a clearing outside the Arena you will all notice Beithir and Razyel have gone missing. Beithir’s loss will remain a mystery and Razyel only will if Tormen decides not to say anything about it. With Draco also missing this leaves Talic as the only halfborn left among the group. There are two NPC warriors from your Kabal still in the group as well, but with their helmets on none of you know what birth they are. You may all post multiple times, I will respond for Brujjn and Dalotael accordingly. 


Razyel: Tormen decides to say nothing more, and backs out of the alley, back into the busy street. Are you worried he will say anything to the others?

For now, the Mercenary seems content enough to in fact let you out of his tight grip. He turns his back to you saying,_ “Come with me, I show you the rest.” _His arms and chest are massive with bulky muscle beneath his scaly skin covered in a light coat of hair. His legs seem to have nothing more than enough muscle to carry him forward as he walks. Upon his back is a two handled battle axe and a broadsword. At his hips are knives and two pistols, but you can’t tell what kind they are. Due to one of the large handles you may guess it is a bolt pistol that you have heard some of the strongest of humans carry. 
_
“There are four of us,”_ he says, “_We want no money, just to get onto your kabal’s ships and into the raid. Haven’t killed humies in a long time.” _He snorts what must be a laugh, still walking ahead of you. 

(What are your thoughts? What are your actions if any? What are your questions or comments for this mercenary, if any? He offered him and his friends’ protection over you if you get them into the raid. If you are intent on getting these mercenaries into the raid, are you sure you will be able to get them on board? You may have to gain some more authority in the kabal first, do you tell him this? There may be ways to sneak people into the raid of course as well.)


Beithir: You believe you have the chance to rush and do so, but your strike is easily blocked as the hellion is prepared for it. His counter move spins you around and his small but studded club slams into the back of your head, knocking you out cold. The world around you fades quickly and you see the ground rushing up to meet you but you feel nothing as you hit it and blackout. 

Your eyes open to a cage likes ceiling dripping with a water-like liquid. One of the drops falling onto your forehead and rolling off to the side is the first thing you notice. The second thing you notice comes far too quickly. You watch a needle emerge from your upper lip with a black metal string at the end of it. Hands wrapped in leather strands move over your face to continue working, and the needle goes back through your upper lip and down piercing your lower lip. The right half of your mouth has already been sewn shut.

_“This is so you don’t speak the name of She Who Thirsts anymore you fool. You will not turn her eyes to us.”_ Says the hellion stitching your lips together. “I thought you kabalites were smarter than to wander around alone. Any Kabal new or old always has many enemies. When you became a warrior, that should have been your first lesson, but now perhaps it will be your last.”

You have already discovered that you cannot move your arms or legs, for you are strapped down to a metal slab. You feel and taste the streams of blood caused from the fast made piercings of the needle drain down over your chin and tongue. The hellions face glows as he grins, the sharpness of your pain fueling his soul.

Just as he finishes his job of sewing your mouth shut, the double door behind him opens. Three figures enter the room. They are kabalite warriors all wearing their full suits of armor. They are clearly from the Kabal of the Flayed Skull. The first to enter guns down the hellion next to you in a blaze of splinter rifle rounds while the other two watch his back. The same warrior takes his knife and cuts your restraints saying, _“This is all we can do for you.”_

He then turns and the three of them run back through the door they came leaving it open. 

(If you want to you can stay where you are but I assume you’d like to get out of this place. If so, you run to the doors they came from but by the time you get there they are gone. After a short passage beyond the doors you come to a cave like expanse, some of the innards of Commorragh the Lords of Dissent are apparently using for their lair. You see catwalks that lead to the gang’s slave chambers, something that looks like a feasting hall, and some that lead to another stone walled passage way that has some light coming from the hallways beyond. There are several hellions walking about the catwalks but none seem to have noticed the infiltration of the Flayed Skull kabalites. Below the catwalks is a very slow moving river of bright green liquid that lights up the place with its glow. Choose one of the three destinations as well as how to get there. Do you try and kill your way to your destination out of anger, kill opposition silently, or try to sneak past all of the hellions without killing them? Decide the destination and post up until you are half way there. Based on your post I will decide if you actually get there or not. You won’t be able to tear the metal strand out that is stitching your mouth shut.)


Visarys: The purple skinned alien listens to you intently. He nods his head once when you are finished and stands, _“I shall accept your offer then kabalite”_ A couple others in the room start to move looking like they will join the small bandwagon now that someone else has agreed. _“But it will be me and me alone who receives that cut of the deal,_” he says further, turning to glare at those who stood, causing them to sit back down. Apparently this mercenary has some reputation. 

He moves to stand in front of you, _“My name is Zasht.”_ You tell him yours, and the two of you exit the tavern. Just after a few steps away from the door commotion stirs, as a cloaked figure stumbles forward trying to run, knocking people out of his way in the process. His cloak is severely ripped apart and his hand can easily be seen grasping his side which is bleeding badly. What catches your eye even more is what the blood runs over: Kabalite armor, but not just any. The colors of dull, sickly yellow, almost mustard like in appearance appear on detailed sections of his black armor. His cloak falls apart and sways off to the ground. He looks around with a sneering face full of hatred as he continues grasping his bleeding side, and his eyes catch yours and lock. On his chest plate is a symbol you recognize, a capital ‘I’ with a red drop on one side and a blue drop on the other signifying blood and tears. It is the symbol of The Impassioned, your kabal’s archrival. On his face are three tear shaped tattoos below his eyes. This is their symbol for how many members of the Tortuous Bite they have killed.

(What do you do?)


Xole: While waiting for Tyyrn to return, do you mention anything to Nemele about Tyyrn's apparent relations with the haemonculi coven of the Dark Creed?

Xole and Nemele: You both wait for Tyyrn’s arrival at the Spire’s main bridge. When he arrives, the other two warriors who transported Ehcar are with him again. He carries his box in the crook of his arm, holding it against his ribs. In his other hand he carries another item: a Long rectangular case, which he hands to one of the other two warriors telling them to carry it. 
_
“We go to win gain some favor from the higher ups of the Lord’s of Dissent. If you haven’t heard of them you will become familiar quickly,” _He begins walking over the bridge as he talks and you two follow, though his back is turned toward you, it seems like he made sure the other two warriors were behind you. 

_“They are the Hellion gang that used to rule this area of Commorragh before the Kabal of the Torturous Bite moved in to take over and gain some territory of their own. So long story short, they hate us. I have done quite the work to acquire these items for one of the actual Lords that I have managed to become on speaking terms with.”_ He speaks little for the rest of the walk, which becomes a long one, only saying things such as _“This way,_” or _“That way now.”_

(Do you have any thoughts during this time?)

For some time you travel through territory that receives none of the poisoned light produced from the stolen black suns. You go from an area where various types of space faring vessels glide over head to a sky filled with metallic towers jutting horizontally into the air above. The misshapen reality a constant reminder that Commorragh is made of pieces of the galaxy light years apart smashed right next to each other and even into each other by countless open webway portals, where light-years can be crossed with a single step.

You come to an area lit up by a bright green hue, made by some kind of odd river as it sheds some light on the metal walls built into the rock faces around it. There are several black rock outcroppings pointing out from the ground, and barrels of various shapes and sizes about in small groups or piles. There is an entrance in the wall ahead where a group of four Hellion gangers are discussing something with three cloaked figures, none of which have their hoods up. As you approach they turn quickly. One of them has a blue colored precious stone embedded under his right eye in the shape of a tear drop, and a red stone embedded under his left eye in the same shape. Tyyrn yells out, directing his speech to the hellions, clearly angry,_ “No talks with any of The Impassioned you hellion scum! I said no talks with The Impassioned!”_

Tyyrn hands his box over to the other warrior not currently carrying anything, and draws his agoniser whip and splinter pistol. 
Three hellions back up into the entrance, the fourth grips hold of the metal armored door yelling, _“Whoever kills the other shall gain access to the Lord’s presence!”_ before slamming the armored door shut.

The three kabalite warriors near the now closed entrance all turn and cast away their cloaks revealing their kabalite armor. The One with precious stones embedded in his face is clearly a Sybarite like Tyyrn for he carries a power sword and pistol and bears more decoration and trophies about his armor; a few skulls lightly bouncing against his thighs. The other two draw splinter rifles and spray the first volleys toward you merely to make you duck and give them time to take cover. 

(Take cover amongst the rocks outcroppings, small boulders, and barrels and such things to avoid being shot in the open. Tyyrn tells the other two warriors carrying his items to stay further back, so it is three on three. Remember The Impassioned is your Kabal’s archrival. Tyyrn will take on the other sybarite, leaving just one for both of you to kill, which you may.)


----------



## Serpion5

*Nemele*

Xole had agreed with Nemele, they would both help the sybarite with his attempts at diplomacy. They waited presently at the spire`s main bridge for Tyyrn to return to them. For a short while they had been silent, Xole seemingly content to take in the view of the city and her, and in kind she feigned a slight interest in him. In truth, he could die in a fire for all she cared, but an ally`s an ally until they try to stab you in the back. 

Or vice versa of course... 

It had not been too long, but all the same Nemele felt the need to make the time pass quicker. Turning to face Xole, she smiled her fake smile again and brushed aside a drifting lock of hair from her eyes. 

'So, Master Xole,' She began, pretending to be respectful. 'Have you ever been on a realspace raid before? I`ve been looking forward to this for decades now! Isn`t it exciting?'

The air of excitement was pretense of course. Truthfully she was not as excited as she let on. Especially now, since the one member of the squad to be she had trusted could no longer partake in the hunt. She needed a new ally, and if she had to snare Xole to do it she would... 


- - -​


----------



## Lord of the Night

Visarys held his breath as he awaited the response, if the xenos agreed then he would be able to walk out without an issue, if not then a fight was inevitable, one he could win no doubt but would take time that he didn't care to waste. The aliens stood up and accepted the deal, Visarys imperceptibly exhaled as he felt both relief for the timely fight avoided and disappointment that he would have to wait to wet his blades. More looked ready to join but the xenos silenced them all with merely a glare and a sentence that didn't even sound threatening, though the Kabalite privately acknowledged that he was likely biased in that regard. But if this mercenary was fierce enough to do that, and the others meek enough to let it happen, he was all that was needed for the coming storm.

"My name is Zasht." Visarys reached behind his hood and pulled it down, revealing his red eyes and stark white hair. "I am Visarys. I think we will get along very well, provided you are smart enough to remember one sole rule," he said, leaning in closer to enunciate his point, "betray me and i'll respect you greatly, i'll also kill you horribly." Satisfied with his statement Visarys turned and strode out of the tavern, Zasht following behind him. Visarys took stock of his current situation, he had an ally, an uncertain ally at best but that was better than no allies for the troubles that were ahead. And Zasht was clearly special, all that remained with him was to see if his loyalty to coin would make him stick with the Commorrite and just what he was capable of. Until then Visarys would have to observe him carefully.

A commotion drew both attentions as a cloaked figure charged through the crowd, knocking people out of his way and stumbling as if he were wounded. Visarys could smell the blood leaking from him, he was Dark Eldar no question, but as the figure stumbled closer Visarys' keen eyes could pick out the details that actually shocked him. The mustard yellow details on night black armor, only one Kabal used that colour. As the figure's cloak fell off Visarys recognized the symbols immediately. The capitalized I, so revoltingly similar to the human's Inquisition symbol, sided by a blood-drop and a teardrop on its sides. The Impassioned, arch-rivals of the Tortuous Bite. And this one bore three markings shaped like tears, each one signifying a kill to this warrior, each one a warrior of the Tortuous Bite.

Visarys made his mind up instantly. "Zasht," he said as he reached for the blades holstered at his sides and prepared to lunge at the wounded rival Kabalite, "Time to start earning your pay, help me grab him."


----------



## revan4559

Razyel stood there and stared at the one called Tormen stepped out of the alley and back into the main streets of the city. Good run away little mouse I have no need of you just yet but maybe in the future you could become a useful tool, thought Razyel before he turned his purple gaze back to the creature infront of him just as it removed its arm from his throat. Letting out a small cough Razyel reached up with his hands and adjusted his sash to make sure it still covered his flaw before falling into step behind the Mercenary as it explained its conditions and how many there were of its group. Four of them including this brute? Though what they lack in numbers if they are the same size as this creature or even bigger than it may be worth the cost of 'friendship' that other warrior had to other mused Razyel as his eyes constantly sweep his surrondings.

Razyel's then fell upon the weapons that the creature infront of him carried and started to analyze each of them: A battle-axe and broadsword? Crude but effective. The daggers are more my style as they would be perfect for quicker attacks and aren't heavy enough to affect my movements. As for those pistols....interesting very interesting I may have to enquire where this brute aquired them. Razyel's ears then picked up the conditions of the creatures and his friends protection and thought on how it would be best to get them into the real space raid. Surely if they only want to kill and take none of the plunder then the Archon would allow it....however it would mean more room being used up and more mouths to feed...Maybe ill take a few heads back to the Drachon or Archon himself to 'soften' him up to allow these creatures entry into the real space raid.

Razyel then decided that on his way back he would pick off some lone eldar walking the streets and take their heads back to the Kabal....He couldn't remember when he decided that heads were the best gift to give your masters but he remembered that he did so to emulate the Decapitator, the greatest Mandrake in teh history of the Dark Eldar yet for all his admiration he also feared that one day he may end up as a target to the Mandrake should his status become high enough or he would become payment to hire the services of it....He only hoped that should the Archon ever try to higher the services of the Decapitator that he held enough influence within the Kabal to save his neck so to speak. Snapping his attention back to reality Razyel looked around at the alley he was being led down and noticed that the further they went the rougher and less 'civilized' it became Razyel assumed it was one of those placed within the city that Non-Dark Eldar built their own little buildings and taverns to stay out of the Eldars way.

Shifting his attention back to his guide Razyel finally decided to ask him some more questions. "So tell me my large and brutish friend, where did you aquire those interesting set of pistols from? I hoping that it will be an entertaining story to hear over a few drinks, but you will excuse me if i don't have any myself, you know because of my." Razyel then motioned to the sash covering the majority of the lower portion of his face that also flowed down back over his shoulders to end just above his hips. "As for our arrangement, i hope that your protection will only extend to myself and no others?" Razyel awaited the creatures reply as they finally stopped infront of a crudely built structure that Razyel assumed to be a tavern of sorts with all the laughing, shouting and other noises coming from within.


----------



## Santaire

Tormen backed away slowly, caution out weighing his anger that Rayzel would consult with such a lowly species. The warrior was pathetic, probably wanted himself some bodyguards. Tormen almost spat in derision. What kind of a Dark Eldar needed protection to be provided by the foolish lesser species that inhabited Commoragh. Only a coward like Rayzel obviously was would stoop to trusting aliens. The creatures doubtless wanted nothing more than death, what was to stop them taking Rayzel's life as well.

Even as Tormen thought this he realised how perfect the idea was. If Rayzel was weak enough to need bodyguards and those bodyguards betrayed him... Tormen smiled viciously. Rayzel would die and Tormen would be able to shift the blame onto Rayzel's erstwhile bodyguards. He licked his lips at the thought of it. Then he understood what he was thinking. He was better than this. He would not stoop that low. He shook his head and attempted to forget what had happened but the anger was still bubbling beneath the surface.

Tormen stepped out of the side alley and followed the group towards the wych cult arena. Pulling on his helmet he scanned a map to check how much longer they had to walk. Not long now he realised. He noticed that Elammakil and Talic seemed friendly to each other and realised that trying to manipulate them would be just so much wasted effort.

Thal and Tyaer’r were another matter. Neither had cause to hate him nor like him and that was how he wanted it. He strode forward, catching up to Thal. "Rayzel is pathetic enough to need bodyguards, what a coward," Tormen muttered to the warrior. Before Thal could reply Brujjn and Dalotael appeared in the crowd.

Brujjn looked crazed and he had blood stains on his knife, cheek and armour while Dalotael's blade was bloodied but he looked as calm as always. Brujjn spoke, saying “the two of us will continue going to the Wytch arena with you lot.” Tormen nodded before turning to listen to Thal.

They had been walking through a maze of shoddily built slums and then, ahead of them Tormen saw a massive building of gigantic proportions. Enormous spike like towers rose from circular walls at least a hundred stories high. Sleeping quarters for the wyches and the fortress of the Wytch Cult of Acrimony were at either side of the grand arena. They walked towards the entrance and Tormen slowed down so that he was level with Dalotael, the only veteran nearby who looked capable of answering his question.

"What were you doing when you left the group?" Tormen asked casually and waited for a response.


----------



## emporershand89

Beithir looked around at the three passageways that lead in any number of directions in the direlect place. She would find a way out, that she promised herself, then she would kill every single hellion in this damn place for what they did to her beautiful face. She would also find the kabalite member that killed the hellion and exact retribution for stealing the honor that should have been hers. In any case she looked down the passageway that lead towards the ganway and figured that, for the time being she should quietly make her way out. She crept up until she saw a group of barrels and made herself scarce. Just in time as two hellions walked by smirking about something that only she knew. She waited till they had gone down the opposite corner then continued quietly until she reached another passage. 

Coming out she suddenly heard footsteps ahead of her; walking towards her. She looked around, seeing nothing, she flipped over the rail and grabbed hold of the underside of the gangway. Not a moment too soon as footsteps clanked on the grates above and one crushed her left pinky finger. She tensed, keeping the noise within her so that the nhellion above would not hear her. The hellion stopped, looked around, then turned back and walked over her again; going back the way she had come. Beithir flipped over swiftly and in one move placed her blade in the hellions back; then snapped her neck.

Laying her down quietly she took the needle rifle and quickly made her way past the rest of the gangways to a door on the opposite side of the chamber. She tensed up next to the door, listening for any signs of life on traps on the other side of the door.


----------



## dark angel

Glass, the colour of blood, crunched beneath his feet. 

Here, it spread across the landscape in a jagged carpet, twinkling brightly, beautifully. 

‘How unfortunate,’ He said, quietly, a mirthless whisper, as he pointed towards a broken-backed form at the centre of the glass. Blood leaked from the Kabalite’s opened body, where shards had penetrated it. The eyes were glassy, staring blindly. ‘That such admirable glass would be marred with the blood of a Lowborn.’

When the procession passed, Elammakil averted his gaze, giving a pompous snort. The Kabalites continued onwards, driving through crowds of pirates and slaughterers, 

‘You are an oddity, Talic,’ Elammakil said, glancing back to the warrior. His kohl-shaded eyes, thin slits amongst clamorous flesh, eat all light. ‘A Halfborn amongst his betters, and yet he carries himself with an air of superiority… In my Father’s Court, you would have been flayed and fed to the hounds of Master Kornael. Alive, of course. A pleasurable death, I promise..’

He chuckled, this time a passive, wet rumbling. 

‘But, Father is lost to us, and Mother rules in his stead. And one must ask - Why would my adoring Mother, who brought me into this world, have my favourite plaything fed to such odiferous, unkempt abominations?’ 

Elammakil’s mirth subsided, as Dalotael and Brujjn returned, claret smeared across them. Their eyes locked - Elammakil’s cold and calculated, their’s filled with predatory lust and satisfaction. Blood embellished Brujjn’s imperfect face, a dark, ragged stain upon snow-white flesh. Spirals and slashes of crimson, running rivulets across his plate, flashed in the light. 

Dalotael was calmer - Sabre in hand, strings of gore dangling from the ostentatious metal. His features did not betray his emotions, remaining unmoving, not even a slight flicker beneath his skin.

They marched through a makeshift market, where impoverished, taut-skinned Eldar grasped for them, pleading for coin and soul. Elammakil backhanded one particularly adventurous, or idiotic, woman. 

She sprawled back, landing on the ground, dribbling pink. Pathetic, drug-fazed eyes looked up at him. Her lip was torn, profusely leaking, but she cared not for the pain. She shrieked inanely, shuddering on the floor. 

Elammakil shot her through the head, without breaking stride. The monomolecular round, a thin blur, separated her skull above the eye-line. The Trueborn holstered his pistol, grinning impassively. 

Ahead, through motley streets, the Wytch Arena punched into the sky. It was a jagged structure, all barbs and angles, with spikes affixed to the highest tier, bearing heads in various forms of decay. The ground before them opened up, into a marbled square, where the crowds thinned - Shying away from the eyesight of the Wytches, fearful of capture, and agonizing death at their pretty hands. 

He knew his intentions at once, throwing his cloak over one shoulder, hiding his hand and blade. Steps lifted before him, and from within, the thunderous applause of Dark Kin sounded, accompanied by screams and drumming, trumpets and jeers. 

Statues, hundreds of feet high, born from the mad mind of some long-dead artisan, looked down upon him with crumbling eyes. 

‘Talic, come.’ He called, with a gentle, commanding tone. 

He stopped at Brujjn’s side, and placed one hand upon his compatriot’s shoulder. ‘Would you and Dalotael give me the honour,’ He smiled, and nodded to the other Trueborn. ‘Of accompanying me into the Arena? I wish to meet with the Grand Mistress.’


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Talic strode silently along with the group of True-born, he was thoroughly disgusted with them all, each one deserving of a good slow disemboweling. Elammakil was speaking to him about how his father would have killed Talic outright had he been alive, the Half-born snorted at the thought, *"None of these spoiled True-born are my equal Elammakil save for you, and you of course are above me."* he did not mean what he said to Elammakil but he figured he should make the True-born believe that he was a loyal servant and looked up to him.

*"They were suckled on the rotten arrogant teats of their whore mothers, many of their family members I have probably already killed and drank their lifeblood from their beating hearts. I on the other hand was raised by a much purer mother, Death.."* his purple and red eyes locked with Elammakil's as they passed a large group begging for money, without hesitation Talic grabbed the first one to get within arm's reach and slammed his jagged knife through the beggar's chest before tearing it out and throwing the beggar back to the crowd as he slowly bled out. He watched as Elammakil killed a woman who was more adventurous then her friends as they got closer to the arena and smiled.

*"Death raised me, and like the great Arhra I strive to be the best killer that has ever graced Commoragh. Ruling is not in my future as it is for you....master.....my future is much simpler, I want to take Arhra's place, that is my only wish and that is my only request of you in return for my service. While I do love killing True-born and will do so happily for you, I want any leads or help that you can muster in finding Arhra, that way when I find him...."* 

He paused a bit wondering if he should continue and decided to keep some of the details to himself, *"Once I attain his armor and weapons I guarantee that you will have the greatest bodyguard in all of Commoragh, even greater than the Master of Blades......for free." *he smiled wickedly at Elammkil knowing the full weight of what he just said would not be lost on the young True-born.

*"None of your enemies would get past me, and you would be able to get rid of any rivals in your way."* he added the last bit to sugar what he had said before. None of these other rats in this group knew what he and Elammakil were capable of together, while they both of course had to watch each other's backs for the moment they both knew that with the other great things would happen. 

Talic was not stupid and did realize that his only want in life was an unbelievably hard goal to reach but he knew that he can and would do it, he would have to keep whispering sweet words about the future into Elammakil's ears and eventually he would find Arhra. Once he found him he would tear the warrior's heart out and drink his lifeblood, he would then done the armor of the great warrior and take on his personage, possibly help Elammakil before quite possibly killing him but if the True-born did manage to help him much he would let him live.

As they got closer to the arena Talic kept his mouth shut and let Elammakil think on what he had said and simply followed him.


----------



## unxpekted22

this update is to bring in the new player. It is not a full update for everyone.

Valdoran: (first read the previous update if you havnt already. I would suggest reading all the updates if you have the time, maybe skimming through player posts.)

You are one of the two warriors holding Tyyrn's special items, though you dont know what is inside the box another warrior beside you holds or what is in the large case that you hold. 

Tyyrn, your warrior troop's sybarite, moves to engage with the sybarite of the Impassioned (your kabal's main rival kabal{kabal history in opening recruitment thread post.) Nemele and Xole move to enagage one warrior each. As the two of you carrying items move back away from harm, you have a higher vantage point and notice a third Impassioned warrior moving in towards the fight that had not been seen before. You place the case next to the other Torturous Bite warrior and move to engage with this new coming enemy. 

In your post, you may describe the fight with this warrior of the Kabal of the Impassioned and you may come out victorious by killing him. You may control his actions for this but you may not speak for him.

Xole, Nemele, and Valdoran: I forgot to mention in the last post, both of Tyyrn's items are locked, and locked well so there is no stress needed about opening them before he does or about the one warrior now guarding them both doing anything with them.


----------



## Nightlord92

Valdoran walked with the other warrior stuck holding Sybrite Tyyrn's offerings to the Lords of Dissent. Curiosity and suspicion had warred within Valdoran's frayed mind at what lay within each box yet no matter how hard he tried to subtly open the box it remained sealed tighter then a haemonculi's slave pen.

Stuck behind Tyyrn and his two tag-alongs Nemele and Xole, Valdoran followed the Sybrite to the meeting hoping that this petty act of diplomacy may reach an end soon. The Lord's of Dissent may have held power once upon a time here, but the Torturous Bite ruled these streets now. If anything, these pathetic mongrels should be grovelling at Tyyrn's feet begging for a chance to even witness the Kabal's first real space raid. That he and the other warrior must be the ones to hand the Kabal's gifts to them fanned the flames of Valdoran's annoyance. 

As they walked and walked, guided only by the Sybrites commands, Valdoran kept a watchful eye out on Nemele and Xole. He would not put it past the two to try and stab Tyyrn in the back and come after the treasures in the chests, no matter how locked they were. In a way, Valdoran almost wished they would try something foolish; if anything Valdoran could slay the two half-breeds and gain favor with the sybrite. Chuckling to himself Valdoran followed just close enough to be able to take out the first of the ones who might have thoughts of treachery.

Emerging into a pale green colored area, Valdoran immediately caught sight of 4 of the Lord's of Dissent at the other side entrance along with 3 cloaked shadowy figures. It wasn't until he saw the blue and red jems under his eyes that he realized it was them. 

“No talks with any of The Impassioned you hellion scum! I said no talks with The Impassioned!” Tyyrn spitefully shot at the hellion wretches.

Valdoran felt his blood beginning to pump at the scent of battle in the air. “Whoever kills the other shall gain access to the Lord’s presence!” one of the wretched Lord's of Dissent declared before they exited the area. 

Immediately all hell broke lose. Moving with the other warrior backwards away from the splinter fire, Valdoran cursed his luck being stuck with the box as the other warrior sat his box down. Watching from his vantage point as the half-breeds and the sybrite engaged their individual foes Valdoran hissed as spinter fire erupted from the enemies rifles in their direction. With the others busy focused on their foes, it was Valdoran and the other warrior that noticed another Impassioned enter the arena. Looking at the other warrior and smiling behind his helmet Valdoran tossed the other warrior his box and unslung his own splinter rifle. 

Running to edge of the vantage point Valdoran sprayed the Impassioned warrior's position, forcing the insect to dive for cover. Laughing to himself at the thought of carving this coward up Valdoran raced to the warrior blindly spraying his rifle to no good effect. Forcing the warrior back down with another deadly spray of his spinter rifle, Valdoran was so close to the warrior that he leapt into the air and landed on the top of the boulder the Impassioned was covering behind. 

Swinging the monomolecular blade on the butt of his rifle Valdoran hooked his blade under the back of the blade on the Impassioned's rifle, ripping the gun away from the dark eldar and sending it flying away. Hopping down off the boulder smiling like a predator watching his prey Valdoran could begin to taste fear seeping from the Impassioned's armor as he drew his own blade. 

Toying with the warrior by jabbing his blade threateningly close to him Valdoran waited until the warrior lunged at his midsection to bring the butt of his rifle against the kabalite's helmet as he weaved aside from the blade. Stunned on his knees, the Impassioned could only watch as Valdoran slammed the sharp iron studs on his helmet repeatedly into his helmet, shattering the eye lens's and cutting the warrior's eyes to pieces. 

Laughing, Valdoran dropped the crying warrior and slowly but surely brought his rifle up to the kabalite's face. Valdoran waited until the warrior's thrashing began to cease before he emptied the rest of his ammo into the Impassioned's face.


----------



## unxpekted22

Elammakil: Brujjn turns his face directly at yours, only turning his neck, not his body as he continues walking toward the arena, _"It is the Succubi of the cult we go to speak with Elammakil, we all get to go see her together." _he said with a smile, though how genuine or sarcastic it may be you cannot tell.

Tormen: Dalotael looks upon you with his reptilian eyes and finally sheathes his blade before speaking, _"What do you think I was doing, Tormen? We were doing an errand for our little Kabal, what else?"_


Visarys: You move to approach the wounded Impassioned kabalite, withdrawing one of your serrated knives as you do so. When you are close enough you reach out to grab his arm in an attempt to turn him with it and press it against his back with your knife at his throat. He quickly turns his wrist and manages to pull it from your grasp, striking out with a hidden blade of his own pulled from a thin sheath on his leg armor. 

Your reflexes help you jump back enough to allow his blade only a scratch upon the armor covering your abdomen. You notice Zasht is not around trying to detain him at all and a quick glance about your surroundings tells you he is gone entirely. You pursue your goal in any case lunging at the The Impassioned, and successfully grasping him this time, forcing the blade form his hands in whatever manner you choose. 

At the instant you gain control of his still bleeding form, a raspy voice perks up behind you, "_You should always have someone watching your back kabalite of the Torturous Bite."_ Which he follows with a hissing laugh and a gun of some kind at your spine. The wounded kabalite in your grasp cries out,_ "Drush'na, you bastard! I thought you fled which would have been despicable enough! But this! You use my injury as a means to draw out a prize for yourself?!"_

'Drush'na' replies, "_Shut up you fool! You shouldnt have gotten hit in the first place, and besides I was still watching your back wasn't I?"_

Yet another voice comes in behind you, One that is calm and newly familiar, _"Perhaps I can end all of this foolish squabbling then?"_ followed by the warrior at your back making a choking noise and you feel the tip of the gun leave your back. You turn, your blade still at the throat of the wounded Impassioned. Zasht stands behind the other Impassioned whose face has gone blue cold. Violet colored spike-like limbs pierce his mid section in various locations and angles. The spikes recede in an instant and the body drops to the ground.
_
"As long as you remain my large future income, Visarys, I have no reason to betray you. And, you can bet your soul I'll keep you alive."_ says Zasht.

Now that you have the wounded Impassioned at your mercy what do you do, ask him questions? Kill him? something else?

Razyel: The Mercenary responds to your question about the pistols with a snort and a smile as he turns around slightly to face you as he walks,_ "I've been mercenary for a very long time, we have many stories if you want to hear."_

As he opens the back slab of a door to the structure you realize that the noise you thought was being made form a fully packed tavern was coming from just three individuals, which are the same size and species as the one you have already met. 

They look to you with raised cups the size of your head, pig like faces with scaly skin all covered in a light coat of hair from head to toe. Jagged teeth, huge torso's, and fingers larger than your fore-arms. _"AAAAYYyyy!!"_ they yell, one saying further, _"Truka you found one!"_

You take a seat with your mercenary Truka,_ "Yes we will only protect you my little eldar friend, we work as a group. Besides if we give protection to two people and they decide to kill each other we would all be shit out of luck!!"_ They all yell and bang on the table which appears to almost break and shatter under the hammering, another adding mixed with laughter, _" We would have to kill each other!!"_

Truka turns to you, _"So, what stories would you like to hear? Or is there something else that your attentions need? Have you been in Kabal long?"_


Beithir: You hear absolutely nothing coming form the other side of the door, so you push it open. What you find is a hallway littered with four dead Hellion bodies, two of which have dozes of hole like wounds corroded in posion: splinter rifle fire. The other two lay dead slumped up against the walls with large gashes in their stomachs and chests, one with his severed arm beside his leg still gripping a blade. 

It is apparent to you that the three Flayed One Kabalites came through here. You turn the next corner and notice two things. At the end of small hallway you see two hellion gangers peering through a barred window, focused on something occurring outside. You hear the crackling sound of splinter fire coming from whatever they are watching. The other thing you notice is a forced entry hole above you in the ceiling, doubtless the way the Flayed Skull kabalites must have gone to make their escape.

Do you enter the hole in the ceiling and follow in the wake of the kabalites from the Kabal of the Flayed Skull, do you enact some of your revenge on the Lords of Dissent peering out the barred window, or do you continue on down the hallway?


----------



## dark angel

Brujjn’s smile was unnerving, unremarkable, completely devoid of emotion - A mere flick of the lips, and a baring of sharpened teeth. 

Elammakil returned it, his expression becoming cold, stony. He upturned his own lips, in a snarl of frustration; a tantrum of the privileged, over being denied his opportunity. 

‘Why,’ He spat, still walking besides Brujjn. His robes fluttered behind him, a pair of black wings, animate in the wind. ‘Would I settle for a seed, when I can have the blossom?’

Brujjn snorted in reply. 

The arena doors, huge, studded and brazen, swallowed the two up. A long hallway, with swords and axes lining the walls, spread off into the distance. 

Brujjn and Elammakil marched ahead of the others, great, loping strides bringing them closer to their destination. When they were beyond the hearing range of the others, Elammakil gripped Brujjn by the wrist, and turned him gently. 

‘The blood,’ He said, pointing with his free hand to the splotch upon Brujjn’s snowy flesh. ‘It is the Halfborn’s, correct?’ 

For the briefest moment his face contorted to one of extreme annoyance as Elammakil’s hand turns him, as though he was about to retaliate. He looked at him coldly, ‘No. It isn't.’

‘Then to whom does it belong? If it is not Draco’s, then where is he?’ Elammakil inquired, burying his arms in folds of silken fabric. 

Brujjn purposefully moved slightly faster to get them further ahead of the group, and spoke softly. ‘He is somewhere between life and death. We would not spill our own Kabal's blood in the open streets, that would make us look like a weak Kabal. The other Kabals know how the inner workings of such organizations generally work, but the mongrels don’t. Did we kill the one named Draco? No, we certainly didn't help him either, but he certainly helped _us_.’

His wide grin returned, and he stalked further ahead. 

‘I plan to promise the Archite a quarter of our earnings,’ Elammakil called out, mirthlessly. ‘And if needed, myself. Uncle will be pleased, I imagine..’

No response came to Brujjn, Elammakil falling into a halt, crossing his hands in frustration. When Talic caught up with him, he gave the warrior a shallow nod. 

‘Do behave yourself, Talic. I plan to indent a good intention upon their minds, I do not need our only pet running wild..’ 

He grinned, before indicating for him to continue onwards.


----------



## emporershand89

Beithir opened the door to find a scene of carnage before her, something she knew her rescuers were undoubtably responsible for. At the end two hellions peered out into the outside beyond, focused on the sounds of gunfire that from beyond. She looked up and saw a whole, forced entry, great escape route. She would take it but first she would eliminate theses two unsuspecting idiots, saving herself the trouble of killing them later. 

She dropped the rifle quietly and slowly worked her way behind the two hellions. At 5 meters she drew her knife and came up behind the two, who were still focused on the intense fight outside. She went for the one not looking through the hole, grabbing his head in a Serpent hold and snapping his neck quickly, then turned and slashed across the other's thraot as he turned to face the noise behind him. His vocals destroyed he gasped as blood poured forth from his wound and he fell spasming to the ground.

Beithir was tempted to check the outside, see what was going on but she realized that sooner or later someone was bound to come up from behind her so she continued to make her way out by grabbing a rifle, slinging it to her back, and jumping for the hole in the roof. Grabbing hold she pulled herself into the sunlight and onto the roof; wondeirng where to go from here


----------



## komanko

She seemed to be enjoying the conversation so Thal simply went on as he listened to her speaking. Tyaer’r laughed at his remark, it looked like she was enjoying that conversation as much as he did and thus they continued forward. 

She did not complain or resist when he took her rifle, she did not even flinch when he decided to hold it. She was either very brave or very stupid and Thal did not know yet which of them the correct one was but he was inclined to believe that it was the former. 

When he asked her about her history she seemed to hesitate for a moment, it was good as it gave off the impression that she was not stupid. She appeared to be considering something before finally answering him. She quickly summarized her history, telling him about her family and how her mother paid with her life for underestimating her. Thal continued walking and picked up a small pause in her words, he turned to her to look what was holding her back but instead he only met her piercing gaze which was upon his very eyes. After she was satisfied with her staring she continued telling him that she joined the Kabal because it was broadcasting about a real space raid, although before that she mentioned the fact that she did not utilize her full name because she did not want half - borns to know it. This made Thal chuckle lightly because as nice as this try was it was useless because some of the Kabal’s commanders were half – borns themselves… After finishing telling about herself she asked about him, particularly about his reasons of being here. 

He thought about his reply for a while, he was not sure if it was wise to give away things from his past no matter how unimportant they were. Yet before making up his mind he was interrupted by the four warriors who broke off from the group.

He spoke again and Tyaer’r agreed with him, they will continue towards the Wytch arena.

They continued walking yet Thal did not reply to Tyaer’r’s question yet, he was unsure… He could lie, do something grandiose which will make her fear him yet there was no point in that and it could backfire at him anytime which will make all his words seem worthless in the future which was a great disadvantage for him. There was so much that a sword could open, other things were simply needed to be opened with words and if his words were worth nothing some doors will be closed for him. 

He sighed and looked at his companion as they walked… No harm is done by that… No harm… He thought to himself. “*Well… To answer your previous question*” He spoke suddenly breaking the silence and continuing the conversation like it was not interrupted before. “*Misfortune. That is my answer.*” He looked at Tyaer’r and she seemed confused, he was not surprised… This was a rather cryptic answer. “*Let me explain*” He said as she looked confused at him. “*As you I was born rather than bred like cattle, yet I did not have the fortune of leaving for long with the riches of my family… They were murdered, quickly, disposed of by someone unknown to me. It doesn’t matter though, they deserved to die! They were weak!*” He spat venomously his anger clear in his eyes as the thought of him being weak because of that seed came to his mind. 

“*After my family was killed I was forced out of my home and into the streets, just like those rabid half – borns, I raised my self on the streets for a while and when I saw that the Kabal was recruiting I joined. They supplied me with what I needed and even more and so I ended up here. It really was by chance and misfortune that I ended up in here*.” He said. His face quickly twisted in a grin as he said “*But I try to look on the bright side… I met you here my princes and this is good enough for me for now.*” He was clearly flattering her, he did not try to hide it. Females were known to be susceptible to this kind of tricks and it might inspire loyalty to Thal in her.

Two of the warriors returned after a while, Brujjn and Dalotael were their names if he remembered correctly. Brujjn closed towards them, a crazed smile on his face, blood thirst easily seen in his eyes. An imbecile Thal concluded, he was showing to many emotions, emotions which can later be used against him. He was blood thirsty means he will be easily manipulated. Dalotael on the other hand did not betray his emotions so easily; he seemed calm although his blade told a different story. The blood was fresh a strong smell emitting from it, arousing emotions inside of Thal which he struggled to keep another control. He did not remember when he became a bloodthirsty hound but it appeared to be the case right now. In the end he managed to win in the struggle against himself and he did not betray the bloodthirstiness which arose inside of him because of the smell of blood. He did not notice though that he was tightening his hand against Tyaer’r’s shoulder even more, possible hurting her a little which would easily betray his hardly controlled blood thirst if she would make the connection.

The two newly returned warriors said something but Thal did not pay any attention; their words were uninteresting and trivial to him. Thus he continued forward without addressing them.

They marched on for a bit and as they went forward they slowly began to be surrounded by small broken shanties. They were a possible hideout for ambushers or simple bandits. Thal knew that breaking away from the group now would be foolish, as wandering alone in those parts would be suicidal. And as he deemed so he simply continued walking for about twenty more minutes before he was confronted with a magnificent sight.

A grandiose structure of gargantuan proportions appeared in front of them all, huge black walls arose from the ground spikes attached to them. The walls were of immense height and no light could’ve illuminated all of them. The sweet stench of blood and death could be felt all around that building, it was the arena, Thal knew it. His heart began beating quicker as he marched forward quickly forcing Tyaer’r to either quicken her pace or simply break away from him.

OOC: As usual Ramovich if you are unhappy with something PM me and I will change it quickly.


----------



## Lord Ramo

Tyaer'r walked patiently at his side since they had left the Kabal fortress for the Wytch arena. in truth she didn't want to drop behind him even for a second, she wasn't stupid. He had her gun and if he wanted to he could have turned against her in a second. She needed to be close to him in case that happened.

At least thats what she told herself. She was enjoying his company, something that her mother had warned her against during her many lessons. She pushed those thoughts to a side in her mind as he answered her question. He had paused for a while while they walked through the crowded streets, obviously wondering whether or not he should speak the truth. He must have settled for the truth as he told of how he had to raise himself after his weak parents were killed. He was a true-born but learnt on the streets as did the half borns. He then tried to flatter her.

In truth Tyaer'r was flattered a bit by it, but she was wary at the same time, though she did not show this. She remained calm and confident through her body movements and how she carried herself. *"Well thank you for the compliment Thal, lets hope you can kill something soon so you don't turn soft on me."* She joked as they walked forward.

Soon the group were rejoined by two of the four that had split off, Brujjn and Dalotael. Brujjn was an eldar that Tyaer'r wasn't worried about, if he was to betray anyone his face would give it away. He seemed to be beaming at his kill, obviously his blade had found something to sate its thirst on. Dalotael however would be one to watch. Though his blade betrayed the fact that he had killed, his face didn't. He was calm, and would be one to watch. She felt Thal's hold on her tighten as he saw the blood on the blade, its sweet intoxicating smell in the air. He wanted to kill, to partake in the bloodshed, that much was obvious. She pushed these thoughts to the back of her head as she moved on with the others. Another two she had to watch was Talic and Elammakil.

Talic seemed to be like a hound, ready to be let off its leash and reek havoc and death on the enemies of Elammakil, it seemed as if they had some form of alliance the way Talic followed him, and how Elammakil seemed to tolerate the very existence of Talic. Tyaer'r was not afraid of Elammakil, he was just the nephew of the leader, he probably had little skill and got by by mentioning his family name. Talic however was a killer, that much was obvious. If she wanted to live, she would have to use her skills of sneaking and knife fighting, though she would think that they were on even terms then.

The group came upon the huge, and terrifyingly awesome arena soon enough. Tyaer'r reveled in its glory, the most dangerous beings known to the Dark Eldar were here, fighting in the arena, weaving their deadly dance. She had aspirations to join their ranks one day, to be taught to move like them would make Tyaer'r privileged. She was graceful and deadly now, but what would happen if she was trained?! She felt Thal quicken his pace as they neared the arena, the smell of death and bloodshed had him intoxicated. She smiled as she quickened her pace also, easily keeping up. She wouldn't let him go until she had her gun back at the least, and besides he could be useful to her. For now she was content to stick near him and wait.


----------



## Serpion5

*Nemele*

An ambush! What a cowardly act. Nemele was disgusted yet thrilled at the same time. After all the rush of combat, knowing that death could come at any moment, was one of the most adrenalin boosting sensations one could ever feel. 

Tyyrn and his cronies were well prepared, she had to give them that. The sybarite and his trueborn followers reacted almost immediately, and Nemele was so caught up in awe that she almost missed the enemy kabalite coming straight for her with blade in hand. She ducked the initial strike and darted to the side, drawing her own knife and aiming a jab at his midsection. It was deflected by the warrior`s armour, forcing her to retreat another step and draw him closer. He aimed lower this time, and rather than evade she was forced to block, using her own knife to catch his own. 

In a swift follow up attack, she sliced across his hand and disarmed him in the process. As he staggered backwards, she followed and delivered a strong roundhouse kick to the top half of his helmet, dislodging it from its placing and unbalancing him. He fell to the floor and ripped his helmet from his head, glaring back at her with hate. 

'Such an angry face.' Nemele laughed. 'Why don`t you try the face of despair next?' 

She darted forward, using both daggers to line up a succession of strikes. The enemy was quicker than she had anticipated though, taking one shallow cut before managing to roll aside. He kicked out, catching her off balance and dropping her onto her back. He was on top of her in a heartbeat, pinning both her hands at her side. His hands gripped hers, furiously trying to wrench the blades from her hands. She struggled, but he was winning. 

It felt like she had lost one of the blades. He brought it up, but her hand, now free, caught him by the wrist and she sweated visibly as she tried to keep his strike at bay. He leaned in closer to her, putting more weight behind his attack. Nemele watched the blade get closer, threatening to end her life...

It was too early. She couldn`t die yet. No, not yet. 

With not other option, she pulled her self up towards his face, kissing him square on the lips. 

'Huh?!' He recoiled in shock, and she seized the moment. Swatting the attack aside, she wrenched her other hand free and brought the blade up. He turned just in time to see the blade as it punctured his eye socket. 

Breathing a huge sigh of relief, Nemele shoved the spasming corpse off her and got to her feet, now toting an extra dagger and ready for another combat...


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Talic nodded his head at Elammakil, *"I shall refrain from embarrassing you Lord."* there was a sly smile on his face but he meant what he said, he knew just as well as Elammakil that the Wyches' help would make the possibility of their raid succeeding that much better, plus it was always nice to have some women around to play with in one's off time. As he followed Elammakil silently he studied the guards that dotted certain areas, all women of course, they reminded him of the women he had met in his lifetime. 

Many that he had met had been mothers, matriarchs of some family that had somehow managed to piss him off so he had killed them to send a message. He remembered one small crime family especially well, it had taken him months to track all of them down and wait till they were all in one place, one of their nice homes in the higher end area controlled by the Kabal of the Poisoned Tongue. 

He had managed to sneak in by disguising himself as one of the half-born workers that they employed yet seemed to never check for any form of identification. 

-----------------------------

He could hear the party going on four stories above him, the music was atrociously loud but at least it would give him cover to kill who he needed to kill. He was standing on a balcony four stories underneath the floor where Matriarch Hilana was holding her party, his long black hair tied into a bun to prevent it from getting in his way, *"What are you doing out here slave? Get back to work now!"* One of the guards walked out onto the balcony shaking his fist at Talic.

The Half-born turned to look at the guard and tilted his head before flicking his wrist, a gleam of quicksilver shooting through the air at lightning speed and impaling itself right between the guard's eyes, his limp body falling to the floor. Talic walked over to the guard and kneeled by his dead body, *"I am no slave."* he said before taking his knife from the fool's skull and putting his armor on. It was a bit tight around the chest and legs but then again he couldnt complain, it was made for the man he had just killed.

He looked back up towards the window he had been staring at and began climbing his way up meticulously until he finally reached the window sill. He silently snuck into the dark room to find a naked eldar male laying on the bed who was staring at him with wide eyes, Talic stuck his tongue out and hissed like a snake before jumping him. To the eldar's credit he reacted quickly but not quick enough, Talic's knife splitting open his throat and spilling his blood all across the bedding. 

As he bled out Talic gutted him and used his intestines to hang him from a fixture on the ceiling before tearing his heart out and consuming it. He heard movement and melded into a dark corner of the room where he wouldnt be seen, *"I am ready my personal little sin."* He recognized the voice as one of the Matriarch's daughters, the man he killed must have been her consort, he smiled, oops. 

She made her way out of what must have been where she kept her clothes because like her friend she had nothing on, yet she did not expect him to be hanging from the ceiling by his own intestines for she opened her mouth to scream but instead got an armored fist to her face. She hit the floor hard, teeth flying out of her mouth, wimpering quietly as Talic approached her, *"What do you want warrior? My family can give you anything you want! Please don't kill me...."* Talic smiled and stared at her, *"It's too late for pleas mistresssss Kara."* 

*"Wh.....why....why are you doing this?"* she stuttered as his knife gently caressed her skin. He gave her no answer and after an hour of slowly skinning her and hearing her cries and pleas for mercy he tied her mangled still barely living body to the bed to let her bleed out. He turned to look at her, her eyes following him as he made his way to the door, *"Don't worry Kara, I'll be back for you."* his tongue licked his lips before he quietly opened the door and made his way out. 

There were two more he needed to kill to send his message to the Matriarch and they would most likely be in the party. He walked into the area where most of the guests were, the music so loud it vibrated your ribcage, the whole room dark with the exception of a few colored lights that were flashing all over the place. The favored of the Poisoned Tongue were busy either taking drugs or partaking in the other pleasures that were being offered, he would not be noticed until he was already gone. 

He stood and talked and chatted and partied until he found his other two marks, the son of the matriarch and his consort, they made their way to a room further upstairs where he followed shortly after they left. 

*"How dare you you Half-born whore-son! I will kill you! You will not get away with this!"* Jarok screamed at him as the toxin he had found in the room kept his consort paralyzed as she was slowly skinned alive until Talic finally tore her heart out and consumed it. Blood dribbled down his chin as he smiled at the tied up Jarok, *"Doesss it surprise you that I knew where you lived whore-ssssson? Or that I was able to find the toxins you use on your victims so easily?"* his accent made him over stress his S's, something he had come to like.

Jarok had also been injected with the paralytic but only enough to keep him sluggish so that he could still feel pain. *"You pride yoursself on killing Half-borns Jarok asss does the rest of your family, I on the other hand pride mysself at killing True-born."* he smiled wickedly as he took his knife to Jarok, the warrior screaming in pain the whole time until his heart was finally removed. He had left the same way he had come, taking Kara's heart before he left out the window and putting the suit of armor back on the dead guard. 

--------------------------------

The Matriarch had been enraged at the death of her children and their consorts and had sent search parties to figure out who had killed them, Half-born in her section of the city dying in droves from her rage. Weeks later he had been forced to kill her himself, yet she was easily replaced by the kabal of the Poisoned Tongue which now kept its wanton killings to a minimum. Talic smiled as he remembered that part of his past, he loved inflicting pain and fear on others, especially those who thought themselves above such emotions and feelings.

His mind was now agitated, he wanted to kill now, he was thirsty for blood and hungered for death. Yet he kept himself in check, Elammakil had wanted him to behave so he would so as not to jeapordize anything.


----------



## Lord of the Night

Visarys lunged at the wounded Impassioned, deftly withdrawing a serrated knife and grabbing the mark's arm, a simple twist and the knife would be at his throat and the bargaining/begging could begin. The Impassioned responded quickly, turning his wrist away and striking with a concealed blade pulled from a sheath attached to the greave on his left leg. Visarys leapt back, the blade barely touching the armor that shielded his abdomen, and landed in a pouncing position, ready for the next move.

The first thing he noticed was that the Impassioned was still had some life left in him, good, it wouldn't be any fun taking a prisoner who couldn't fight back. The second was that Zasht was nowhere to be seen, he was gone. Most would assume that he had fled but Visarys knew his type better than most, mercs like him and Zasht from these parts of Commorragh never fled that easily, they just assessed the situation and made their own tactics, the client never really cared as long as they came through in the end, Visarys had never been on the other end of that relationship before but it was quite interesting. Zasht was here, Visarys just couldn't sense him, which was even more interesting.

Drawing his mind back to the Impassioned Visarys quickly yanked a small throwing dart from his leg greave and hurled it at the Impassioned, as he spun to dodge it Visarys leapt forward, allowing the momentum of his leap to carry him just past the wounded Kabalite. He ducked low to the ground to avoid a slash and spun with his leg stretched out, the wounded Kabalite jumped up only to be caught by the follow-through as Visarys kicked his other leg up and caught the warrior in the gut. Dazed the warrior stumbled back and lashed out, a clumsy blow that Visarys easily parried. Deciding that he had had enough Visarys spun his knives in his hands and sliced with both in an X at the mark's face. The Impassioned stumbled back, a gaping wound covering his right eye and most of the same side of his face, staining his tear tattoos with real blood. Confidently striding towards the now half-blind rival Kabalite Visarys grabbed his arm and disarmed his blades, turning him around and placing a serrated blade at his throat, pressing down enough to draw blood.

Just before Visarys could deliver a witty taunt he felt the barrel of a splinter rifle pressed against his spine. Damn! The Impassioned had backup, Visarys hadn't thought it possible. If he had backup why was he so wounded? A raspy voice filled his ears, "You should always have someone watching your back kabalite of the Torturous Bite." Visarys didn't let his smirk drop from his face, he could get out of this. It would mean letting go of the wounded one but without two eyes he would not get far in this place. The ambusher had made a mistake even humans were smart enough to avoid, well most of them. He had pressed the gun directly onto Visarys's back, by spinning around he could knock the weapon to the side and disarm his attacker swiftly. Fools. The wounded Impassioned cried out to his fellow, "Drush'na, you bastard! I thought you fled which would have been despicable enough! But this! You use my injury as a means to draw out a prize for yourself?!" Visarys almost laughed but mentally silenced himself, the ambusher replying angrily, "Shut up you fool! You shouldnt have gotten hit in the first place, and besides I was still watching your back wasn't I?"

A familiar sense manifested in Visarys's mind. He chuckled quietly and spoke without moving an inch, "Normally I enjoy good banter, but this is just dull," he said relaxedly. Another voice cut in, one just as calm and as familiar as the sense, "Perhaps I can end all of this foolish squabbling then?" The ambusher made a choking sound, Visarys took that as a cue and immediately spun around, keeping the knife at the wounded warrior's throat and planting a kick at the back of his kneecap, forcing him to the ground. Zasht stood behind the ambushed Impassioned who had turned an icey blue, like his body had lost all its heat. Sharp spike-like limbs of a dark violent color had pierced his armor and cut right through his mid-section, they had broken through in multiple angles and locations. In an instant the spikes receded and the body dropped to the ground, the thud echoing through the street.

"As long as you remain my large future income, Visarys, I have no reason to betray you. And, you can bet your soul I'll keep you alive." Zasht said. Visarys chuckled at his new mercenary's style, he liked him a lot. "And I have a feeling that you'll earn every part of Zasht, like you just earned this," Visarys drawled as he reached to his waist and removed a small satchel. It was filled with several small pieces of crystal that Visarys had 'received' during a street riot several months ago, there was much more but each one was worth a fair amount. He tossed it to Zasht who caught it with one hand. Turning back to his new prisoner Visarys spoke clearly and confidently, "Now then you have much to tell us, afterwards you will live depending on what I judge your information to be worth. Or you can tell me nothing and i'll allow Zasht here to do.. whatever he just did to your fellow Impassioned," Visarys pulled the warrior's head up by his hair, making sure he could see the grisly spectacle that lay at Zasht's feet.

"Now, my first question. Why are the Impassioned down here? This isn't Kabal territory."


----------



## revan4559

Razyel's feline like purple eyes shifted around the table to look at the other three strange creatures as he analyzed each of them trying to pick out weak points on their scaly hide along with looking for what weapons they would use in table. Absent mindedly Razyel moved his left hand up to his sash and pulled it up to make sure it covered his defect before crossing his right leg over his left leg along with crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "I think there will be plenty of time for your tales on the way to the real space raid. As for your questions Mr Truka, was it? I have been in the Kabal awhile since i left my family but this will be my first real space raid. As for if i have other matters to attend to it appears that i do now. If you four would so kindly accompany me back to Kabal's base which i am part of im sure you will be allowed to join in on the raid provided your not after much of the spoils and only wish to kill."

With that Razyel uncrossed his arms and legs before pushing himself out of his seat and shifted his purple gaze around to each of them. "However I would like to know how resilent your species is to pain as i believe that if you will be guarding me I would like to know if you are able to take a shot or two meant for me either from the Mon-Keigh we will be facing or incase some other my 'kin' decide they want to kill me for the fun of it. So if you would be so kind to answer my question on the way back to the Kabal, let us be off?" Razyel then turned away from the table and headed for the door letting his new body guards decide if they were going to follow him or not. As he left the building his thoughts turned to the dark eldar who tried to help him earlier. _"Will he cause trouble for me in the future for me telling these brutes to kill him if they so wished? and will he try to turn the others against me....We will have to see i guess."_

While walking back towards Kabal base Razyel decided to get his Drachon and Archon some 'gifts' which might allow him to keep his body guard...or he could tell the Drachon of his squad that he may use the body guard aswell, which of course would be a lie it would just be to allow them on the real space raid. Finally leaving the alley which he had been taken down Razyel pulled himself up onto a stack of crates and crouches down in a position much akin to how gargoyle like statues are crouched as he observes the comings and goings of the other strange creatures and dark eldar around him as he tries to pick out some suitable eldar heads to take back with him to give to his lords.


----------



## unxpekted22

Elammakil, Talic, Tormen, Thal, and Tyaer’r: (The next couple updates should be much shorter for you five)

Before entering the large doors, Dalotael speaks with some of the wytches standing sentry who say that your group is expected. They open the giant and massively decorated doors revealing a long and dark hallway.

Elammakil and Brujjn enter first, leading the way as they continue talking. Talic follows close behind Elammkail. Behind him are Thal and Tyaer’r’ and in the rear are Daloatel and Tormen along with the other two warriors in the group. 

It is a long walk through the citadel, for those who don’t yet know Dalotael informs the group that they go to speak with the leading Succubus of the Wytch Cult of Acrimony. The quarters of the Succubi are at the tallest tower’s peak…of course.

Eventually, after climbing stairs curving in the oddest of manners, you come to another doorway guarded by two male members of the cult. Their faces are behind metal masks and remain unseen. They allow you to enter into the room and once all of your feet finish shuffling in the doors close. The guards do not enter behind you, for they know their Archite needs no such protection from a group of lowly kabalite warriors. 

Three of the four walls surrounding you are literally filled with all kinds of close combat weapon, everything from daggers to Halberds. There must be a couple hundred knives alone. At the end of the rectangular room where you all approach sits the Archite, the cult’s queen. She sits in an enormous and elaborate throne chair of gold and scarlet. She is nothing short of breathtaking in her features, which you see all of due to her lower half bearing the minimum amount of coverage and her upper body completely bare. Despite any efforts, not a single scar can be found by any of you upon her body.

She wears no armor and holds no weapon. Behind her is a wall made completely of glass, and upon it hangs a gruesome sight. A dark eldar is held flat upon the glass by metal chords which wrap around his wrists, ankles, and neck, like some kind of window ornament. The chords are pulling his limbs from his main torso at an excruciatingly slow rate. His limbs and head are all severed by skin and bone but still attached by strands of muscle and organ; the glass painted red from his blood flows. As you get closer all of your souls can feel it, he is still alive.

Brujjn and Dalotael kneel before her. She speaks, _“Kabalites from the Torturous Bite.”_

_“Queen of Acrimony.”_ Says Brujjn in return, _“Our Archon wishes to further our relations with your cult of wytches, as it is our hopes and wishes that you join us in our first real-space raid.”_

She replies quickly, sitting up straighter, _“I am aware, but I grow tired of these talks. I don’t find much meaning in talks. I am fond of your rising Kabal, warriors, and I do believe your Archon has what it takes to lead you to greatness, but I have no solid proof of this. Warriors from the Kabal of the Impassioned were here not long ago, and they presented some strikingly succulent offers to me. So, if you wish to gain my allegiance, it is time to show your worth through actions, not words. If your Kabal wants my wytches fighting by its side in the realms of realspace, I have to know its warriors are capable of being victorious in true battle. In order to gain my faith, you must survive the arena. You will be today’s special event.”_

She rises from her throne confidently and dismisses you, causing you all to realize that fighting in the arena is not a choice. Besides, it is clear that not ‘volunteering’ for the test would be foolish enough to get you killed by your own kabal anyway. 

_“Make your way to the preparation room, my Wytches will guide you form there. You may use all the weapons you carry with you, but only those weapons, for they will be all you have in realspace.”_

You all do as she says and exit the room. While heading to arena entrance you all follow Brujjn and Dalotael. You all find yourselves noticing that the passages they are taking seem to get further and further from main hallways as they get thinner and darker. The group comes to a small entrance guarded by three female wytches. The room inside emanates a pinkish glow out into the hallway. 

Brujjn makes no pause or hesitation as he jabs his punch dagger through the closest wytch’s neck. The furthest wytch makes an even more unexpected move, shoving her blade through the back and out the abdomen of the other wytch. After the two dead fall to the ground Brujjn pins the traitorous one against the wall and they begin kissing, shoving their tongues back and forth into each others’ mouth. 

Brujjn turns for only a moment to say to you, _“One of you grab the stone.”_ Before returning to his accomplice. Dalotael sighs heavy and moves past the room continuing his way to the arena entrance on his own. The two other warriors in your group following him. You all move to the doorway and look inside. Laying upon a small pedastel is something you all recognize instantly despite never seeing one with your own eyes. It is called simply, a bladed soulstone. It is a Craftworld Eldar soul stone, bright red and smooth, but with a cruel frame and an altered glow. It can be worn around the neck beneath the armor’s chest plating.

It is a contraption made by some of the absolute best Haemonculi Commorragh has to offer, which continually tortures the Eldar soul trapped inside the soulstone giving the wearer constant power from pain and from a potent soul at that. It is likely a prized possession of the Archite. 

Brujjn’s accomplice takes a breath to say to him, _“I’ll take care of these bodies. You have mine?” _As she rubs her hands over his smoothed head, and the tips of her fingers over the spikes and hooks on the sides of his face and chin. _“Araklyd is bringing it my dear.”_

Okay, I know that’s a lot to take in. I’d like to see the major events here from your character’s perspective. By the end of all your posts you will be in the prep room, which is a room that leads out into the actual arena. Will one of you take/have the stone? If so, who? 


Razyel:

As you get up and leave the mercenaries quickly become silent. In a moment after you step outside, you hear the door creak open swinging hard enough to hit the wall. The four of them surround you, bodies tense. The good thing is, they aren’t look at you, they are looking away. They are forming a circle around you. As you move they remain on all sides, with the occasional snort like grunt or growl at other beings. Despite being shorter and far thinner than these brutes, you appear quite powerful with them at your will. 

Searching for good targets, a voice from the dark catches you off guard, _“Those mercenaries wont save you Kabalite.”_ And before you can even react the crates beneath you blow apart into hundreds of pieces. You hit the ground and hear your mercenaries roar. You flip back to your feet only to find a hellion running toward you blade drawn, only a few bounds from reaching you. His head explodes with a shower of blood. You find it is Truka, bolt pistol in hand with a bit of smoke in front of the barrel. The other mercenaries are all engaged in close combat with several more hellions. You recognize them as being from the Lords of Dissent Hellion gang, which used to own this territory before the Torturous Bite moved in and took over. Just the kind of heads you could use.

They charge from all sides, some even with their long double bladed hellglaives, but the mercenaries hold their own, cleaving the hellions apart one by one with their hefty close combat weapons, apparently much tougher than the hellions bargained for. It has turned into a full out battle in the street. Draw your blade and join the fray. Gain the trophies you seek. 

Visarys:

_“This isn’t Kabal territory?!”_ He scolds nearly laughing, though the draining of blood he has endured has clearly got him light headed and dazed, _“and here I was, thinking I was trespassing on your kabal’s territory.”_ his tone satirical, seeing as you are in fact within the Torturous Bite’s territory. He continues,_ “All these new ‘warriors’ your superiors are dragging in, don’t even know a thing about their own Kabal.”_

Suddenly his voice changes into a roaring snarl, _*“The Torturous Bite…worthless garbage! I’ve done my fair share killing your kind!”*_ he says doing his best to point his finger at his tattooed face, _“If every one of us can kill three of you, your pathetic kabal is as good as dead already!”_ clearly using the last of his energy in such a fit of rage he passes out.

Kill him and move on? If so you can begin speaking with vendors. Would you be looking for weapons, drugs, information, special or miscellaneous items? Or you can move on to the wytch arena where many of your fellow squad members likely went to. If not, bring the Impassioned back to the Spire of the Torturous Bite and present him to your superiors. 


Xole, Nemele and Valdoran:

You each finish off your opponent successfully. Three more Impassioned dead by your Kabal’s hands. Make that four, and sybarite at that as you witness Tyyrn successfully catching his agoniser whip around the rival’s neck, causing him to shudder with immense pain while his eyes roll back into his skull before Tyyrn rips the whip back causing the head to come flying off the eldar’s shoulders.

Tyyrn takes back one of the items from the warrior holding them as you all slowly approach the metal door. It shrieks open and the hellions re-emerge gesturing you to all to come in. 

You all follow them until brought to a room with one of the gang’s leaders, several hellion guards, and much to your surprise, Beithir, who is chained to the wall and has wire stitching her mouth shut.

Beithir:

Before you can fully make it out of the whole, something grabs onto your ankle and pulls you back down into the hallway, slamming you hard onto the ground. You open your eyes to see a blunt weapon come crashing into your head, which knocks you out cold Once again.

This time when you wake up you are chained to a wall, and in front of you, to your wild surprise, your sybarite commander and three of your fellow kabalites. 

Xole, Beithir, Nemele, and Valdoran:

You are all in a room where one of the kings of the Lords of Dissent sits, guarded by several of his hellions. His impressive detailed skyboard behind him. He has more piercings than you can count and wears armor over his chest and midsection unlike most hellions. His hair is a deep red color, and quite long.
_
“Why do you have one of my kabalites here like this Fyyid’jek?”_ asks Tyyrn, a stern look on his face, already pissed off from the events outside. 

The king responds harshly, _“What kind of alliance involves your warriors killing mine Tyyrn?”_

_“It is far from an alliance yet. Our warriors still hate your hellions, and your hellions still hate us. I’m sure it is going both ways out there. Besides you know that this alliance cannot be free knowledge.”_

_“If you allow me to kill this kabalite, I shall allow us to go ahead with our previous arrangements.”_ He gestures to Beithir.

Tyyrn waits a moment before responding never removing eye contact from Fyyid’jek, _“No. These items I bring to you as my end of the deal have taken years to obtain. I had to start preparations for these when the Tortuous Bite and the Impassioned were still one and the same in the Virulent Syndicate. If you don’t release her now, you may never get another opportunity like this.”_

With a long wait and many hesitant facial expression of the hellion king he finally gives the order to release Beithir, one of the hellions with a hellglaive severing the links, causing the chains tied around her wrists to remain there. Tyyrn orders Nemele to cut the wire sewing her mouth shut as he presents his items to Fyyid’jek. The four of you watch as he opens the box and lifts out what is clearly the head of a dark eldar, but you cannot see the face. Fyyis’jek smiles with glee and says, _“Aha! still alive! Perfect. Now the weapon…” _

Tyyrn closes the box and hands it to him, and then takes the other longer case form the warrior still holding it. Tyyrn opens it to Fyyid’jek whose face lights up once more but says nothing further. He nods to one of his Hellion guards who speaks for him, _“You are free to leave kabalites.”_

Nemele cuts through the wire enough to allow Beithir to open her mouth and speak but the pieces of wire remain above and below her lips. 

As you make your way back outside do you have any thoughts on the exchange you just witnessed?

When you make it back outside of the hideout, five more bodies in the black and mustard yellow kabalite armor of the Impassioned lay dead on the ground that you hadn’t killed before. Three more kabalite warriors emerge from cover, causing you all to raise your weapons until realizing they are from the kabal of the Flayed Skull, which Beithir recognizes as the three who freed her from before. 

One of them yells out, _“Sometimes I truly doubt our leaders for supporting you. Learn to watch your own backs once in a while you fools.”_ 

Before any retort can be given a venom transport lands behind them and soon they are gone, flying off towards the distant spires hanging in the background. 

Tyyrns lets out a grunt, he turns to Nemele and hands her a map, “For helping me in this affair. This will lead you to the chambers of the Dark Creed Haemonculi coven. If you would actually like to be alive after the real-space raid I would strongly suggest paying them a visit. I must return to the spire.”

With this he turns and leaves. Only Nemele has the map, which make it her choice to show the rest of you. If needed, you may fight over it, If so I will decide who ends up with it. Whoever has access to the map (in hand or with whoever does), do you choose to make your way towards the haemonculi coven now? If so you will not make it there by the end of your posts for this update. You may decide you are not interested and return to the main streets and speak to some vendors or make your way to the wytch arena to try and link back up with the rest of your squad.


----------



## Serpion5

*Nemele*

Nemele sheather her own blade and slid the new one down into her greave. The brief pain of her opponent`s death had been somewhat enjoyable, but the sensation had already faded as the group was led into the hellion audience room. The leader of this gang was an ugly brute bearing more piercings than was sensible. He and Tyyrn locked eyes briefly, before a startling revelation was made. 

There was a prisoner hanging by the wall, mouth stitched shut and battered. 

There was something familiar about the face, like Nemele had seen it before. She ignored the pleading look of the kabalite and simply watched with renewed interest as the tensions escalated between Tyyrn and the Hellion king, Fyyid’jek, over the fate of this prisoner. 

To Nemele, it didn`t really matter that Whatsername might die, but on principle she agreed with Tyyrn. If they allowed one of their own to be sacrificed as an appeasement, then the security of the kabal would be in question. Deaths within were one thing, deaths from without could not be tolerated. 

Fortunately, the gifts seemed to be enough to gain the hellion`s favour. With a quick gesture, Tyyrn bade Nemele to cut the kabalite free. Approaching boldly, she stared down the hellion sentires, meeting their feeble attempts to look threatening with the same sweetly mocking grin she gave to most who would shortly be dead. With a begrudging snort, one of them cut the straps that bound their ally to the wall, leaving the ends still wrapped around the woman`s wrists and ankles. 

Beithir! That was the name. Hefting the barely consciouss form to her feet, Nemele led Beithir back towards their own group. After a moment`s thought, she raised the knife to Beithir`s face and cut through the wires that had stitched her lips shut.

'I can`t imagine what foolery you were pulling to get yourself into this mess.' Nemele said. 'If that is all, shall we go then?'

As they made to leave, Nemele wondered why they had come here of all places for allies. Surely the cabal was not so desperate as to look _here_ for help?


----------



## Santaire

“I am aware, but I grow tired of these talks. I don’t find much meaning in talks. I am fond of your rising Kabal, warriors, and I do believe your Archon has what it takes to lead you to greatness, but I have no solid proof of this. Warriors from the Kabal of the Impassioned were here not long ago, and they presented some strikingly succulent offers to me. So, if you wish to gain my allegiance, it is time to show your worth through actions, not words. If your Kabal wants my wytches fighting by its side in the realms of realspace, I have to know its warriors are capable of being victorious in true battle. In order to gain my faith, you must survive the arena. You will be today’s special event,” the Wytch Archite said lazily before rising from her throne and gesturing to tell them that they should leave her presence.

Tormen had already turned and so only heard a few words of what she said afterwards but knew that they were going to the preparation room. They left and walked towards the location. As they moved Tormen realised that the corridors were gradually becoming narrower and darker. They came to a door guarded by three wytches and, without pausing, Brujin stepped forward and stabbed one with his punch blade. Her corpse fell and Tormen almost gasped in surprise but what shocked him even more was that one of the two remaining wytches turned and stabbed her fellow in the back.

Brujin pinned the treacherous wytch against the wall and Tormen waited for him to strike the killing blow but instead they began to kiss passionately. Tormen was stunned. Surely the wytch was not stupid enough to displease her mistress but the evidence was right in front of him that she was fully prepared to do so. Tormen heard Brujin say something about a stone and then his eyes alighted on the red jewel on a pedestal. A bladed soulstone of the Craftworld Eldar

Tormen was awed by the pain he could sense emanating from the soulstone. He moved forward but stopped himself and looked to everyone else. "Who should take it?" he asked...


----------



## Lord of the Night

As the Impassioned laughed Visarys smirked as the wounded warrior made, what he likely thought was smart, his rebuttal. What a fool, he didn't understand, no Kabalite truly would or could. This street, this district, lands like these, where mercenaries gathered to kill and pillage, where assassins plied their trade in the backalleys, where whores lured patrons into the shadows with seductive promises, was unconquerable. No Kabalite could ever call this their territory, they could claim to rule it but in the end, it was men like Visarys and Zasht that ruled these streets and the thousands upon thousands like them across Commorragh. Even the Black Heart couldn't truly rule places like this, it just wasn't possible.

He would have said so to the ignorant warrior but he fainted before Visarys could open this mouth. "Hmph, and you call me weak, passing out from lost blood," he mused. Zasht looked down at the passed out warrior and shrugged, "So what now? Kill him?" he asked. Visarys shook his head and gestured to both the dead warrior and the fainted one, "No we take them both, you can have the dead one's gear, if not I can strip it, and the other one still has more to tell us. We just need to... apply pressure," he drawled, "You carry the unconscious idiot, i'll take the dead coward." 

Visarys reached down and grabbed the dead Dark Eldar's hair, dragging him down the street as he mused on where to go next. "Now we seek information, these scum were doing something down here, we find out what and gain prestige through it. Besides i'll let She Who Thirsts suck my soul dry before I let one of those Trueborn bastards take credit for this," he cursed, gesturing at the wounded captive and dead plunder. Visarys made sure to check the wounded Impassioned's state, he was wounded but he would live with some medical attention, which Visarys intended to see that he got, certainly not first quality care but some kind of quality at least. But for now he and Zasht needed information, why were the Impassioned here? What were they doing? Many questions swamped Visarys' head but the first thing he thought was that this would either be a bold play, or a foolish misstep. Either way it was certainly going to be interesting.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Talic was silent as his lord had wished the whole time during the talk with the Archite yet when he had seen the still living eldar pulled against the glass it had made him smile, such a succulent torture for him to endure. It made Talic wish he could fight, and then the most wonderful thing happened, the Archite informed them that they would be the special event in the Arena today....perfect.

He had to admit she was absolutely stunning and Talic's mind was pulled towards his sexual desires, maybe once he had Arhra's armor he would come back and take her as a mate, who knew? He watched in silence as she left them and they began to make their way to the prep room, they were to be given better weapons for the coming fight? This was most certainly happy news to him, he had always wanted to wield some of the exotic weapons that the Wyches used.

He snarled at Brujin as he forced himself upon the backstabbing Wych who had helped him kill one of the sentries, yet his snarl was cut short when he felt something filled with great pain and agony get close to him. It was an Eldar soulstone from one of the Craftworlds, filled with a powerful Eldar soul yet instead of giving it peace the designs around it kept it in pain in order to give the wearer great power. 

He cocked his head slightly as he took it in, was it a test to take it? Certainly it was prized by the Archite, such a trinket was not lightly placed for fear of it getting stolen, yet what would happen if one of them did take it? He turned to Elammakil, *"I will take the stone lord, let me show the spectatorsss how the Tortuous Bite kills."* his eyes glowed as he stared Elammakil then got closer,* "...I can feel its pain...."* his body shuddered in pleasure and he picked the soulstone up and wrapped it around his neck.

He smiled wickedly as he picked his head up to look at Elammakil,* "We will not lossse this day Lord, the Wyches will join us, and we will spill much blood in the arena."* he made his way over to a wall to see what extra knives he could equip himself with before entering the arena.


----------



## dark angel

The procession of Dark Kin, nine statuesque figures in their ostentatiously serrated armour, stalked their way through the Citadel of Acrimony, chattering quietly amongst themselves or remaining silent. 

Blood, strong, metallic, flittered into his nostrils. Elammakil knew the stench well, for it clung to every surface of Commorragh, from the highest of spires to the lowest of Eldarmade crevasses. Every now and then, it would suddenly grow more odiferous; and accompanying it, would be the keening cry of barbaric spectators. 

Eventually, they came to a series of winding steps, spearing up through the structure of the Citadel, a barbed crown among the uncultured shantytowns and markets. Brujjn and Elammakil led the way, the latter having thrown his robes over one shoulder, dragging them across the marbled steps. They twisted left, right and other, odder angles, before the steps leveled out into a long reception area. 

Ahead, a pair of beautifully ornate doors stood. Flanking them, were far less beautiful creatures. Both were male, and wearing sickeningly little, grotesques obscuring their features - Shaped in the visage of some long extinct beast, lips of steel peeled back over fangs of gold and platinum. 

The leftmost, slightly taller than the other, opened the doors casually, while his companion did the same with the right. 

Elammakil’s heart quickened, and blood thrummed in his ears. Finally, his prize was here..

He was surrounded, suddenly, by a host of elaborate and half-broken weapons. Each glimmered and twinkled; and the young Dark Eldar felt truly immersed in war-craft while being within the chambers. Only one of the walls did not contain weaponry - That, was occupied by a macabre mosaic. It was glorious, a Dark Eldar held flat against unremarkable glass, having been flayed and held wide.

Swirls of crimson, glittering beneath the glass, snaked away from his flattened body. When Elammakil drew closer, he sighted the briefest flicker of movement - Of gasping lips, dribbling a pink-flecked froth. He still lived..

Before the wall, upon a baroque seat of gold and claret, sat the most majestic figure that Elammakil had had the pleasure of laying eyes upon. Her body was supple, alluring, utterly breathtaking. Born of perfect curvatures, with a full body and a enviously pretty face. 

Her cheeks were rosy-red, contrasting heavily against her fiery hair. There was a mischievous glint to her eyes, which in turn, were flanked by high cheekbones, bold as those of a statue. Her lips were wet, soft, claret amongst snow-white. 

She wore little clothing, and that which she did, was frilled and ill-fitting. Elammakil’s eyes traced long elegant legs, flowing over her body, locking on breasts before another look at her face. 

Brujjn spoke first, his voice barking and guttural. 

The Queen of Acrimony replied, words flowing languidly from her lips. Her voice was liquid-gold, each vocal and tone perfect, soothing him. It was distinctively lyrical, the voice of a singer, of a seductress. 

Elammakil went onto his knees, clutching his hands over his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, when it became evident, that the Queen of Acrimony would have no buts or ifs. Elammakil’s choler rose suddenly, and he stood, lips peeling back into a snarl of rage. 

The Torturous Kabalite, in all of his sudden love and fantasizing, had been denied his chance of offering her his terms and conditions. They left the throne room, creeping back down the steps, and making their way through arched, shadow-incased hallways. Gone was the luxuries and extravagance of the main passageways, now replaced with bare minimums. 

After long, arduous moments of rage-ridden pacing, the group came to a trio of Wytches. Certainly beauties, but in comparison to the Queen, they were mere whores. What unfolded next was sudden and sating. Brujjn rammed his punch dagger through the neck of the first Dark Eldar, blood erupting from the wound, pattering upon the ground. Next, one of the other Wytches wheeled on her sister, sliding her blade through flesh. It emerged, strands of viscera dripping away from the weapon. 

Shaded in pink, the scene was mockingly romantic. Elammakil’s eyes gazed inwards, fixating upon the source of the light..

Laying upon a small pedestal of obsidian, was a serrated, diamond-shaped object. 

‘_Soulstone_,’ Elammakil gasped, exuberated, smiling thinly. ‘How peculiar.’

Various Kabalites voiced their lust for the object, but only Talic made to grab it. 

He turned towards Elammakil, and pleaded to keep the object. 

Elammakil gripped his chin, and folded the other arm over his chest, entering meditative thought. 

‘Keep it,’ He whispered, sibilantly. ‘I, however, shall not be the prized spectacle for baseborn curs and feeble-minded churls. I am a Prince of Commorragh, not a arena-warrior. My intentions, upon entering the Citadel, were not to fight. What does the spilling of blood, upon our behalf, depict of the Kabal as a whole?’

He chuckled, mirthlessly, eyes gleaming with malice.

‘My intentions, _dear _Talic, remain the same. While you shed blood and bleed, the Queen of Acrimony will have the grace of entertaining me. There is an alliance to be made; her pleasure does not bother me. Obscure the Soulstone, friend. I will play no part in this pilfering.’


----------



## Santaire

(It's all mine BAV, you will never have it!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :laugh

Tormen reached out and placed his hand on Talic's back. "Rein yourself in Half-born," he hissed to the warrior before proceeding to cut the chain from Talic's neck and hold it aloft. He smiled and looked at Talic, "not this time Half-born, this time you lose out," and with that he slipped it over his own neck and clamped his helmet into place over it. He looked at Talic and drew hs splinter rifle. "Try and take it if you dare," he said, pointing the rifle at his fellow kabalite "I doubt either of us would be missed back at the fortress. He felt as if he could shake the city with the power the soulstone possessed but he reined himself in.

He knew he did not have the power to do so, soulstone or no soulstone but he would start with winning this challenge. He kept his eyes on the rest of the group, making sure that no one was behind him unlike Talic who had turned his back on everyone enabling Tormen to take the Soulstone from him as easily as taking the life from a human child. It was just so pathetic and so in keeping with Talic's overconfidence. He smiled inside his helmet, how foolish the Half-born was...


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Talic was furious, well beyond furious, his pale face flooded with red and his unique eyes narrowed with hate as he took in Tormen as the True-born put the soulstone around his neck. This whelp really thought he would get away with laying a hand on him? And he was pointing his rifle at him, a foolish move, helmet or no helmet his neck was still a weak spot and Talic was an expert with knives. 

Talic stood tall and licked his lips, *"You would point a gun at me whore-son? I bet that was the same thing your father did to rape your mother. You speak assss if you are a true warrior then why do you hide behind a gun?"* the whole time he was talking he would take a step to the left or to the right with his hands behind his back holding both of his knives, ready to throw them when he saw an opening, *"Why not fight like a true warrior, or are you a coward just like your father?"*

His eyes watched every movement that Tormen made, if he could not goad the idiot into fighting him here and now then he would stab him in the back in the arena, the fool had no chance either way. Talic was a below average shot but that did not matter to him, he was a veteran in hand to hand fighting especially with knives, a by-product of his previous doings in Commoragh. 

*"Come now coward fight me like a real warrior."* his body tensed as he slipped both of his knives down further into his palms to ready them to throw at a moment's notice.


----------



## revan4559

Razyel let out a snarl as he landed on his back after the crates he was perched on exploded shortly after a voice echoed from the dark, pushing his hands behind his head Razyel flipped back onto his feet with his usual acrobatic skill before looking around for who ever had shot at where he was standing. Seeing the Helion charge towards him Razyel quickly tightened his nimble figners around the hilt of his blade but before he could even draw half of it out from its scabbard the head of the Helion exploded in a shower of bone, brain matter and blood. Tilting his head Razyel shifted his gaze to see that it was Truka who had shot his would be attacker and grinned under his scarf yet he only showed a frown upon his face that was not covered by his scarf. "Thank you for the Assistance Truka, now if you would be so kind shoot them in the chest! I want to take their heads as prizes for the Archon so try to leave them intact as you can. Along with telling your friends to do the same."

After issusing his orders to Truka he hoped that the mercenery would do what he said and make his friends keep some restraint in not damaging the heads of those helions which were attacking them. Deciding that his short-sword was not match for the Hell-Glaives due to the longer reach Razyel quickly moved around the combat and climbed up onto a higher vantage point which took the form of a stall selling odds and ends collected from all over the city. Crouching down once more Razyel's purple feline like eyes scanned the fight that had now broken out and had to admire that his new bodyguards did fight well for those using brute strength but to him they lacked finess. Pushng his musing thoughts to one side for now Razyel shifted all of his thoughts into concerntrating on the battle going on at hand and quickly launched himself off of his vantage point and into the air so that he would land on the back of one of the Helions attacking one of his bodyguards. With his sword in his left hand held in its usual reverse grip so the serrated blade and point was aimed backwards Razyel draw back his right hand before striking down with his sword in an attempt to piece the spinal cord of the Helion just below his shoulder blades.


----------



## Lord Ramo

Before entering the large doors the group had to await for Daloteal to speak to the wytche sentries. Tyaer'r felt excitement building inside her as they entered the accursed halls of the wytches. The hallways were long, dark and foreboding. They were the perfect place for a dark eldar, Tyaer'r hoped that one day she could learn their deadly dance. Both Thal and Tyaer'r were still together, moving towards their destination, with the half born, Elammkail and Brujjn ahead of the two, whilst Daloatel and Tormen took the rear of the group.

The group were heading to the Succubus of the Wytch Cult of Acrimony, to try and garner an alliance between the Kabal and the Wytches. The quarters for the Succubus were in the tallest tower typically, and it took a fair time even for the long limbed dark eldar to reach the quarters. It was guarded by two male members of the cult. Their faces are behind metal masks and remain unseen. 

The group was allowed to enter, the doors closing as the last one walked through the doors. Obviously they were confident that there was no need for the guards to protect her, she was obviously thought to be able to wipe out the entire group, Tyaer'r could only imagine that power, and hoped that one day she would be able to command that much respect, that much fear. 

Tyaer'r could only marvel at the weapons too which the wytch had at her disposal, the walls were cover in every conceivable manner of close combat weapon, hundreds of knives as well as larger and just as deadly weapons. If only she could have had some of those weapons, ornate, exotic, amazing weapons. She couldn't help but shiver at the prospect, she loved the idea of the wytch, everything about it. At the end of the room, their target, the archite’s queen. She was a vision of beauty as well as seemingly deadly potential as she sat upon a very elaborate and ornate throne, gold and scarlet in color.

She felt a pang of jealousy at the beauty of the murderer in front of her, naked upper torso, though she had her lower half covered. Tyaer'r couldn't see a single scar on her perfect body, one too which Tyaer'r could only marvel at. She was sure that the queen had been in countless fights, yet looked as if she had never been in one. It spoke volumes of her skill at arms.

The Kabal members kneeled before her, speaking to her about an alliance. However they soon realized that she had other plans regarding their alliance, getting them to fight for it. Tyaer'r felt anticipation, though she was still jealous of the beauty in front of her, surely Thal and the others would be admiring the queen, and she only hoped her jealousy didn't become apparent to her companion.

The group moved away, heading into the dark halls once more. They headed deeper and deeper into the fortress, and she was sure that their first destination wouldn't be the prep room. She was right. Brujjn led them to a room, guarded by three wytches. Without hesitation he killed one, and another wytch turned on her fellow before embracing Brujjn. Tyaer'r could guess what was going through the thoughts of every other male in the room, and felt her jealousy growing. They stared at the object that was being guarded, a soulstone. She could feel its raw power, it attracted most Dark Eldar to its presence. 

Tyaer'r could guess that Thal would want it, though she wasn't sure, she would have to wait for him to make a move before she could help him. She slowly took her rifle off him whispering to him, *"Thank you for carrying my weapon, but I am sure I am going to need it in the fight. If you want that stone, I will help you get it."* She said, hoping that he still wanted to be near her, and see her as an ally. She noticed how badly the half born wanted it, therefore he couldn't have it regardless of how he felt. At the moment, Tormen had it, his gun pointed at the group, though especially at Talic.


----------



## komanko

Tyaer’r did not back away, she kept close to Thal. They all moved towards the guarded monstrously large doors. Thal had all his attention to scouring the wonderful fortress – arena. It was indeed magnificent and when someone went to speak with the wytchs which guarded the entrance to this fort he did not even pay attention. Only when Tyaer’r moved forward so did he, her hand forcing him to go forward towards the dark and long hallway.

All of them walked through the long and curving hallway. They were ten in number yet if they were seen from above it would seem that they were double that number because of the order in which they went in. 

While they were walking somebody spoke, it was Dalotael. He said that they are heading towards the Succubus’s chambers, she was the heart of the Wytch cult of Acrimony and as such her quarters were of course the most magnificent and the highest ones as well. 

In the end it seemed that their journey through the dark hallway did not end in the Succubus’s chamber but instead they came upon an incomprehensibly built staircase which led up. Having no other way they all moved upwards, braving the indescribably weird staircase. 

In the floor above they were greeted by a short dark hall which led to a door, one that was guarded by two male members of the cult. Their faces were hidden by metal made masks, every inch of their faces remained unseen. Their faces titled towards the newcomers and when they so them the door opened allowing them to go through. When they all passed the door closed behind them, none of the guards followed. This meant that either the Succubus was extremely cocky or an amazing warrior, possibly even both…

Unlike the dark halls they passed the room which was revealed to them was well lit; it was made out of four walls. Thal did not even have to look at the walls to know that they were covered in weapons, he could smell them because of their vast quantity. Yet none of the weapons smelled of rust, they were all taken care of perfectly, all ready to be used in whim.

Thal’s eyes opened wide as he turned his head to look at the huge amount of weapons which lay around. Swords, axes, halberds, daggers, scimitars, spears, everything which came to Thal’s mind were in this very room. So many of those weapons were just a short distance away from him yet sadly he knew he could not take any. He would not risk breaking the alliance with the Wytch cult over those weapons.

In the end of the room laid a throne it was directly opposite to the door they came from and on the throne sat a figure that Thal could not even imagine in his wildest of dreams. Her beautiful form was accomplished by the golden and complex throne she sat on. She was indeed magnificent some might say indescribable and she appeared to know that as she did not bother covering her upper body.

Uncontrolled lust filled Thal’s body as he watched and scoured her godlike features. No scar, not even a single wound could be seen on her perfect form. It was awe inspiring and at the same time a fear inspiring sight. This spoke only good of her fighting skills, she was clearly more talented than all of the warriors in the room together.

Behind the magnificent form of the queen a gruesome spectacle of pain took place. Upon a wall made out of glass was hanged another dark eldar, he was held by metal which were wrapped around his body, holding him and nailing him to the big glassy wall like a decoration of sorts.

It could easily be seen that the metallic bindings were tearing him apart… Slowly. The limbs in the dark eldar’s body were nearly completely severed the only thing still attaching them to the body was strained muscles and organs. 

Even from this distances Thal could feel the pain, it was immense, so great in fact that Thal could feed on it from a mile away. The smell of blood slowly dripping from the sacrificed eldar only invigorated him and strengthened his senses and as he got closer he began feeling better and stronger. Yet to Thal’s surprise when he got even closer he felt a silent scream coming from the soul of the dark eldar in chains. He was miraculously still alive although he couldn’t wish of being deader at those moments…

While Thal and some of the others marveled at the sight before them be it the queen or the peculiar window decoration Brujnn and Dalotael kneeled before the queen. Soon everyone came down to their knees in a testament of respect. Apparently the queen was aware of their origin as she spoke their Kabal’s name.

It seemed that an alliance will not be so easy to achieve with the Queen of Acrimony, she had other things in store for them… After telling them that she is fond of their growing Kabal she informed them that another Kabal was here before, the Kabal of the Impassioned. She continued, telling them that if they want to win her trust and cooperation they will have to prove it by braving the arena as today’s special event.

Thal smiled; at last some sort of a worthy fight. It would let him see the real extent of his brothers in arms skill and at the same time let him hone his own abilities. He hoped that they will be fighting more than beasts as it was harder to learn from beasts than it was from men. 

After she finished speaking she simply waved them away, gesturing them to leave and making them understand that the fight is not a choice but instead of forced voluntary action. After gesturing them to leave she threw some quick final words at them, telling them to make their way to the preparation room. 

Thal frowned in sadness as the Queen said that they will only be able to use their own weapons… It was a shame to let all those weapons around go to waste. Her reason though was quite interesting and partially correct, she claimed that the weapons they have will be the only weapons they will be able to use at battle in a realspace raid.

Before departing from the room Thal gave a quick gaze towards Tyaer’r it seemed that she was jealous of the queen although he could feel the respect that she had for her. It was understandable, in a way Thal was jealous of the queen as well…

The group departed from the Queen’s chambers heading towards the arena’s entrance and into the preparation room. This time all followed Brujjn and Dalotael as they seemed to know where they are going too almost too well.

They again descended down the indescribably incomprehensible staircase and back into the dark hallways below. They followed badly lit passageways for a while, taking a different road every once in a while and continuing onwards. After a while the hallways began to thin down, becoming even darker and narrower until they reached a guarded by three wytches entrance. Even from where Thal stood he could see the weird and abnormal glow which rose from the guarded room and every time his gaze met the pinkish glow he felt an uprising in his soul as if the glow gave him more power. It had to be investigated.

Unlike Thal Brujjn did not hesitate while looking at the paranormal glow he moved onwards and jabbed his punch dagger into the closest to him wytch and in an unexpected turn of events the furthest wytch impaled the other still living wytch through her back.

All soon cleared out and the confusion left as he saw Brujjn and the still living wytch begin to kiss lustfully. Thal’s mouth turned into a crooked smile as he slowly shook his head, he than sighed and moved onwards towards the room taking Tyaer’r with him.

As Thal did, Dalotael also sighed but unlike him he continued towards the arena.

When Thal entered the dimly lit room his heart stopped beating for a moment. In the center stood a contraption, a device which in its clenches held what could only be a bladed soulstone. The raw power that the soulstone emitted was incredible, it was so awesome that it could be felt in every portion of the room. Just standing near it was a sense overwhelming experience. The soul within the stone was quite strong judging by the power it was emitting. 

As he entered he knew that someone would be trying to grab the stone and he smiled at this fact yet he knew that with the awesome power it held it also cursed the wearer with a trap. As this soulstone must be the possession of the Queen of Acrimony herself which meant that she will probably annihilate anyone who steals this device from her. Yet all the while Thal could not let this soulstone fall into the hands of an idiot thus he will have to watch and see who claims it as his own…

While he was busy looking who will be taking the stone he heard a soft and warm voice in his ear, it was Tyaer’r and she asked for her weapon back. For a moment Thal thought of refusing, he toyed with the idea of simply turning towards her and shooting her yet what good would it bring him… No good at all. He let her have her weapon and she offered help if he wanted to acquire the soulstone. He simple nodded in response, he already had an idea which if lucky enough would bring to the death of someone.

He watched as an idiotic argument arose between an halfborn and the idiot true born from earlier. 

Quite quickly weapons were raised as both of them stood one against the other, the true born pointing a rifle at the halfborn and scouring the room so no one may come close to him yet as the half born began speaking the true born listened to him dropping down his guard and letting Thal walk softly behind him. 

Thal would not allow the idiot to wear this stone unless it will benefit him; silently pulling out his swords he planned on putting it against the idiot trueborn’s neck and the other against his ribcage so he won’t be able to escape his grasp. 

If that will be successful he will give the true born an option either he will give it back to the halfborn or he will be forced to wear it above his armor so everyone could see. This would lead to one of two things either everyone will see how weak he is because he uses a soulstone which is not actually his or the Queen of Acrimony would notice her own soulstone on the fool and will order him executed. 

Either way, it will hopefully bring shame or death to the idiot.

If the trueborn would decide to give the stone to the halfborn it will serve Thal’s purposes as well yet to what end was not completely known to him yet. He would find a way to use it against its holder maybe by gaining an indebted ally or just by the fact that the precious stone is held by someone much more reasonable and intelligent.



OOC: Sorry I took so long


----------



## Santaire

Tormen laughed at Talic's outburst. "I may speak of being greater than you," he hissed "but do not presume that I grew up powerful. I killed my own father and was banished to the streets. I learnt how to survive and you should know that if I can see an advantage then I will take it no matter what the consequences. I raised myself from the dirt to reach this position and you should remember that next time you attempt to threaten me. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain so watch your step carefully Talic."

Although he was putting on a brave face Tormen was tensed, prepared to spring into action at the slightest provocation. If the time came he would kill Talic with his rifle, see how savage he looked with half a clip of splinter shards in his chest. Tormen knew that he would most likely die if he attempted to kill Talic for one of the other Dark Eldar in the room might try to kill him but he was willing to try. He wondered about that and realised that the soulstone's power was affecting his mind, making him more confident about his abilities. He rolled his eyes inside his helmet. If he wasn't careful he might get used to this feeling of power and go up against the wytch queen herself. The result would not be pretty to behold. She would string him up in seconds before slowly torturing him to death. He inwardly shuddered. Was it really worth it?


----------



## Serpion5

*Nemele*

Her fellow kabalite seemed to be little more than a deadweight at the moment, but Nemele was not feeling exactly merciful as she simply propped her up against a railing and turned to speak with Tyyrn. 

'For helping me in this affair.' He said, handing her a map. 'This will lead you to the chambers of the Dark Creed Haemonculi coven. If you would actually like to be alive after the real-space raid I would strongly suggest paying them a visit. I must return to the spire.'

Nemele turned to meet the gazes of the others. She certainly had no wish to see the haemonculi given how deep in debt she already was. But she was loathe to relinquish the map as well. She briefly considered returning it to the sybarite, considering she already knew the way and had been there in her past, but her mind could not escape the thoughts of leverage this would give her. 

Maybe she could make the offer to her fellow kabalites here and offer one of them to the coven to aquare her debt? 

_Perhaps not the best idea..._ She thought, remembering how adamant Tyyrn was about keeping Echar alive. 

For the time being, she would simply hold her tongue, and see if any of the others were interested in going to see the coven. She would have time to formulate a plan en route if that should be the case. In truth, the plan was already forming; Nemele suppressed a grin as she returned to the injured Beithir...


----------



## unxpekted22

Talic, Tormen, Elammakil, Thal, Xexrah, Tyaer'r:

"But, Elammakil, we arent stealing anything at all," says a voice that echoes slightly throughout the circular room. It is Araklyd, who walks into the room carrying the body of a dark eldar clad in armor.

Now speaking to everyone as he drops the body onto the ground, "We already knew the Impassioned would be visiting the Archite succubus shortly before us. It was their kabalites who murdered some of the cult's sisters and stole the bladed soulstone, not us. You younglings have so much to learn."

Brujjn enters the room behind him, walks straight past him toward Tormen. Thal had begun his approach behind Tormen but hadn't gotten far. Brujjn snatches the bladed soulstone from Tormen without hesitation or fear of being shot. He immediately tosses it to Talic.

..................

Next you find yourselves all in the arena preparation room. By the Queen's commands you are only allowed to use your own weapons, well only allowed to go in with your own weapons anyway. While checking your splinter rifles and sharpening your blades, Brujjn takes a seat on a short column, takes a small bag hanging from his chain belts and dumps a powder from it onto the piece of column in front of him. He leans down and snorts it vigorously, his head and eyes rolling back on his way up. You all notice his hands begin to shake, and sounds flop out of his mouth that could be any mix between laughs and shudders of pain.

Some of you may want some type of drug yourselves, some of you may find it detestable, but either way none of you have any such materials at this time. The arena gates crank open and the deafening sound of a huge crowd pours in with the odd light of Commorragh's stolen suns. If you wish to ask Brujjn where he gets such things, best make a mental note of it for after assuming you and he will be alive afterward.

Dalotael, Brujjn, and Araklyd lead the way out into the massive arena. You can see other doors lining the walls all the way around the oval.

the ground is a thin, matted sand, easy to walk on. Their are various shaped boulders littering the field, so that it is a bit more interesting than just a plain open oval. 

Dark eldar fill the seats as well as sections full of other alien races and mercenaries. The Archite is easy to spot in another one of her thrones above the left side of the arena, the two other succubi of the cult sitting to her sides. The guest throne on the right side of the arena sits someone you were likely not expecting at all, Archon Direngr; the Archon of your Kabal.

The Archite raises her hand and the door on the opposite end of the arena opens slowly. When it is half way open, a very large ork Nob bashes it apart with a power claw unable to contain himself any longer, and immediately opens fire with a double barreled big shoota attached to his right arm. Despite his bad aim, one of the very first rounds catches one of the warriors in your group square in the chest, almost completely blowing it apart in a cloud of blood and tissue. Sand and rock bits are kicked up all around you as the Ork charges forward still firing, yelling at the top of its lungs.

What do you do? You cannot kill the Ork yet. If you set things up properly, it is possible he will be dead by the next update. It all depends on your actions. You may fire at him and you are allowed to get in to some hand to hand with him, but you dont have to engage him yet. Remember to describe your characters thoughts through each step of this update. Really throwing you into the mix of things Swarmtyrant, Pm me if you have any questions. Talic, the stone gives you constant strength from pain basically, this means that you wont tire while you wear it, and minor wounds will be healed almost instantly, major woulds will begin to heal right away if they dont kill you instantly but they will take a long time to fully heal still. It doesnt give you super strength or anything to that degree, but basically it keeps your body at its full potential in terms of speed and strength and all that. PM me with any questions or inquiries.

Razyel:

Your sword crunches through the Hellions spine with ease, leaving your opponent dead in an instant. As their numbers seem to dwindle, a sound hits your ears that you know isn't a good sign. Sure enough, from around the corner of the structures to your right come a dozen or so hellions on their skyboards, screaming along with their engines. One of your bodyguards who is already busy with one of the hellions on the ground is caught off guard to the incoming skyboard riders. As the rest of you duck to the ground, you see his torso cut in half and one of his arms fly off as the group of skyboard riders races past. 

One of your four bodyguards is already dead. How will you deal with these skyboard riding hellions with their hellglaives? You may kill two at most.

Nemele and Echar (just dropping him in here for simplicity's sake):

Before Echar can voice any opinion he may have on going to the Coven, it becomes clear that the Kabalites of the Flayed Skull missed one of The Impassioned who were waiting to make an ambush on you all. As Nemele approaches Beithir, she looks up at Nemel as if to say something but never gets it out. A large beam of darklight appears though Beithir's face, melting it away. you two happen to be closer to cover than the rest in your group. The beam moves on to Xole next who has barely realized what just happened. It passes through his midsection cutting him in half and burning away his armor and flesh with ease. As Valdoran makes to run, he is caught in the back by the beam of darklight energy. The beam pierces through his body, a line going straight through him hitting the ground on the other side. It looks like his spinal chord practically explodes along his back beneath his armor.

You two make it into cover and based on the angle of the shot (that all happened in a couple seconds) you can tell the enemy has higher ground. It was coming from somewhere in the rocky cliff like structures on the opposite side of the bright green glowing narrow river passing through the area. 

Start forming a plan and moving to intercept this enemy with a darklance. Talks about going to coven will have to wait. You will receive a mini-update when the time is right.

Visarys:

Alright, pretty free reign then. Take him to an old hideout of yours. It shouldnt be extravagant or anything, pretty small and crappy, probably run-down if it wasnt already. Once there, do what you wish to get the kabalite of the The Impassioned talking again. Only I may speak for him though.


----------



## revan4559

Razyel had just removed the head of the Helion he had killed and was stalking through the battle going on removing the heads of other Helions that had been killed by his body guard(let me know how many heads ive taken in a pm if thats ok?) when he heard the sound of Sky Boards. Instantly looking up and around for the direction of the noise he saw around a dozen Hellions on Sky Board's come swooping through the air with their Hellglaives, dropping to the ground with three of his new body guards he watched as the fourth gets sliced in half and his arm removed by one of the Hellions. Letting out an annoyed snarl Razyel jumps to his feet and sprints over to Trukka before crouching down beside him. "I do believe it is time to leave, so if your coming then i suggest you do so." With that Razyel once again stands up but only to the point he is comfortable with due to the Hellions still flying above them.

Sprinting over to another stack of crates Razyel leans forward into a hand stand and flicks himself over into a forward flip to land behind the crates ignoring the blood splattering his armour from the severed head(or heads) attached to his belt. Once behind the crates Razyel sheaths his sword and pulls his splinter rifle off of his back takes aim, using one of the crates to steady his aim as looks at the Hellion's trying to pick out which of them of is their leader of this small group attacking them, finally deciding that it is the Hellions with the more ornate armour Razyel takes the shot letting his splinter rifle spit the crystal shards from its barrel and into the leg of the Hellion. Luckily he manages to catch the Hellions in the side of the knee even though he is moving about at high speeds on his sky board and watches with amusement as he tumbles off of it however Razyel knows that he will not be able to claim his prize should that be the leader of the group unless......Razyel then formulates a plan as he see's the ornately armoured Hellion crash into a stall on the opposite side of the street and thanks the Dark Muse's that one of the mercenaries whose name he does not know is running past it. "You there!" Razyel calls to his body guard. "Grab the fallen Hellion to your left and bring him with us, my splinter rifle uses paraylsis toxin's which aren't lethal so he should still be alive and un-able to attack you back. Hurry! Bring him with us!" With that Razyel holsters his rifle back over his back and barely ducks in time as some splinter shards slam into the wall just above his head.

Turning away from the body guard hoping that he has done as he says Razyel crouches down between two of the crates and slides out before pushing himself up and into a run as he zig-zags in lines so the Hellion's would have no choice but to use their Hellglaives as melee weapons should they want to kill him, and to make it harder for them Razyel uses every ounce of his acrobatic talen and flexibleness to forward flip, cart wheel and back flip away from the battle as he makes his way back towards to the Kabal of the Torturous Bites's base, while letting his body guards follow him if they are able to, atleast he has a head(or heads) to present to the Archon but if the mercenery has done what he said and managed to survive aswell, then he will have an even greater gift for the Archon, one of the Lords of Dissent Hellion Gang for his master to torture to his hears content...however another plan starts to formulate within Razyel's mind about the Lords of Dissent. If Razyel can somehow convince the Archon that the Lords of Dissent might be of use in the up coming real space raid then they could be used as shock troops, though he should perhaps tell the Archon that maybe while on the real space raid the Lords of Dissent could meet with some unfortunate 'accidents' at the hands of the defenders or Razyel could have his change to test his assassination skills one day at a time.


----------



## Serpion5

*Nemele*

Nemele clutched the map tightly, seeing the envious eyes of the others. In the faces of Xole and Valdoran, there was a greedy hunger that could only come with the lure of immortality that the haemonculi could provide. In Echar`s eyes she saw an emotion she could not quite place. Unable to comprehend what he might be thinking, she turned away, back to the injured kabalite Beithir. 

'Uh, I feel an explanation is owed.' She said, primarily for Echar`s benefit. 'The coven, they somewhat know me, so I-'

A blast of light instantly cut off the sentence as Beithir`t top half evaporated. Springing instantly into action, Nemele bolted towards a nearby crag and ducked down. As she looked back she saw Xole, having reacted too late, suffer a similar fate. Valdoran and Echar also ran for cover, but only Echar was fortunate enough to have reached another piece of cover. 

At this point, Nemele realized her heart was pounding. Not from the usual adrenalin though, and suddenly she made the connection. She had feared for Echar`s safety. Looking across from where she was, she saw her fellow kabalite kneeling and already scheming retribution. A glance passed between them, before Nemele risked a look at where she had surmised the fire had come from. 

Whoever it was, they were higher, meaning a retaliation would be difficult. They were situated somewhere in the outcrop on the other side of the cursed river that ran alongside the Dissent`s headquarters. With no rifle, and no way to pin down their target, it looked like the two of them were going to need help. 

'Echar, I have no way to move without drawing fire. Can you... Can you cover any ground from where you are?'


----------



## komanko

Thal was interrupted; he stopped when he heard the steps of someone new approaching. Looking towards the door he saw Araklyd entering the room quickly saying that it was not them who stole the bladed soulstone but the Impassioned Kabal’s warriors. It was a nasty plan, a brilliant one if it could be pulled off.

He saw that Araklyd was not about to stop him from getting behind his prey so he moved on yet before he could place his swords in a correct place for what he was about to do he was interrupted again, this time by Brujjn who quickly snatches the stone from Tormen and hands it to Talic.

The air was tense yet Brujjn did not seem to fear for his life he simply marched away after he done his deed. It was an interesting move though he did not expect the half born to try and understand why Brujjn gave the stone to him but Thal did try to understand why. It could’ve been some sort of a carefully laid trap but who knows…

After that everyone departed from the small “treasure room”, they went to the preparation room which they were heading to originally. Thal reminded himself that he was allowed only to use his own weapons so he did not bother looking around to see if there is something to pick up that can be used as a weapon.

Seeing that there were several whetstones around so Thal picked one up and began sharpening his smooth edges blade, he had an idea of what to do with the serrated blade but he needed something more than a simple whetstone to fulfill his plan. He needed an arms smith.

After he finished tending to his beloved swords he checked them swinging them in various directions, checking how well they cut the air and how he handles them although he already knew that they were as good as they were before. He spun them forward twice and then sheathed them. When he finished with the swords he turned to his less beloved rifle, he preferred close encounters yet a rifle was just as handy.

Thal quickly checked that everything was in place not really focusing on the rifle. It was of lesser importance to him. As Thal checked his rifle he noticed Brujjn quickly taking a seat on a short column. Thal noticed his hands frantically and nervously moving towards a small back which was hanging from a black chain on his belt. 

Brujjn quickly took hold of the bag and opened it, from the bag he took out some dark purple looking powder. Thal quickly knew what was going to happen and was disgusted by the fact that the warrior stooped so low. Drugs like that were a disgusting way to seem better in fighting while they are actually amplify the skill temporarily most of the time. It showed nothing of the warrior’s skill and in Thal’s mind only brought shame to his name.

As he snorted the purple poweder he began to shake violently for a moment but he quickly calmed down, his eyes rolled back to their normal state yet they were widened like the warrior was pumped with adrenaline. Laughter and shrikes of pain came out of Brujjn and just as quickly died out.

As Thal stood and wondered the arena gate began to creak and screech and was slowly pulled up. For a moment he was blinded by the intensity of light that came from the outside in comparison to how badly lit was the room he was standing in right now. The glow of the stolen suns was beautiful in a way yet weird in another.

As the gate rose up completely and Thal’s eyes swiftly adjusted to the different light he could see thousands of the citizens of Commorragh some sitting while other are standing yet all of them roared as one, cheering the incoming warriors. Thal knew that the crowd of citizens were most likely cheering the blood that was about to come.

Three dark eldar stepped out and led the way. Thal quickly followed not bothering to draw his weapon until he knew what he was facing. It could save him some time as he wouldn’t have to sheath the weapon in hand.

The arena was oval and fairly large, it seemed to intentionally resemble a battlefield as large and small boulders were scattered across the thin ground. As he silently followed the warriors into the arena he could feel the resistance of sand against his armored boots. He crouched and picked some up feeling it with his hand. It was rather thin even for sand which meant that it won’t bother him too much and won’t interfere with the battle, though it still could be used to blind enemies.

Being now inside the arena Thal scoured the crowd, he could see everyone there. Mercenaries, citizens, alien races… Every single one who lusted for blood was there. Thal slowly spun around himself taking in the whole arena. He could easily spot the Archite sitting on her throne. Her throne was on the left and in front of her, on the right was set another throne. Looking to that throne which was the guest one Thal was surprised when he spotted his own Archon – Direngr who sat there just as well to be entertained by his warriors.

Thal cursed for not foreseeing such a possibility. This made these arena fights much more dangerous and important. He could be spotted by the Archon as a promising warrior and maybe get promoted and at the same time he could be dimmed unworthy and killed later. It was all down to skill and luck now and he felt particularly lucky this day.

He made his way slowly towards the other warriors who stood together. Every one of his steps were carefully measured he was uselessly trying to be perfect yet it was part of him. He could not help it. When all the warriors gathered the Archite raised her hand and the door on the opposite side of the arena slowly opened. 

When the door was half way opened Thal heard a thunderous smash and part of the door was inflated outwards, another thump and that part of the door torn away with extreme force as an enormous nob made his way out of his preparation or captivity room.

The creature was fierce. Its skin was in a sickly yellow green colour, tattoos and scars could be easily seen all over the unprotected and uncovered parts of his body. In one hand he held a power claw and in the other a double barreled shoota. 

Before Thal had any more time to scour his foe the nob began to rush towards them and shooting madly. He was clearly not managing to control his battle lust… Yet he did not expect more than that from an ork. The bullets began to reach them and Thal quickly ducked a bullet passing over him where his heart was before and hitting the unfortunate warrior behind him, nearly splattering him in half.

A mighty battle cry arose from the nob as he continued rushing towards them and shooting. They had to come up with a plan to defeat this foe quickly because as far as he knew the nobs only got stronger in battle and not weaker due to their immense durability and battle lust.

Seeing that no one else was going to offer a plan Thal began to shot, “*Get to cover if you don’t want to be torn in half by those bullets! I will draw the nobs attention while you will flank him from two sides, take the left and the right it is an oval ring and you will emerge behind him! Just don’t let him see you!*” He hoped that everyone heard him and that they will listen to him as well as he could not guarantee anyone would obey him.

Thal rolled into cover behind a medium sized boulder which covered him whole only when he crouched. He unsheathed his rifle and aimed at the nob and near him trying to get its attention by forcing it to deflect his shots. He hoped that he would be able to force the nob into close combat where he would not see the other sneaking up behind him.

He knew that if the noob will bite the bait they were nearly assured a quick win. He hoped that the gunfire will draw the nob near and Thal would be able to use the boulder to propel above the Nob and cut him from behind with a flip. He knew that if he would succeed in that he would roll back in front of the ork so he won’t notice the others sneaking up on him. He will than make the ork follow him slashing with quick precise strikes just to keep him interested and all the while backing away from the nob as well.


----------



## SwarmTyrant

Xexrah was surprisingly sneaky today, able to avoid being more then merely glanced over by the others. Observing the situation he had to release a snort of humor in response to Thal and co's attempt to steal the soulstone, it was pathetic really, and was obviously a hopeless attempt since it was likely a closely kept thing of the archite. Almost as if qued in by the gods themselves Araklyd came in and dashed away the hopes of Thal, and brought forth news of the impassioned bastards. _Interesting to say the least._ he thought as he followed in line with the others.

As everyone began to leave the Soul room Xexrah turned his head back to lick the air, savoring the taste of the eldars pain. Turning his head back Xexrah saw that they were going to the preparations room. _Preparing for a slaughter more like it._ he thought as he glanced over his weapons, occasionaly rubbing his thumb against the insignia imprinted on his blade.

Cocking and playing around with his gun was the majority of Xexrah's preparations, occasionaly putting it in it's holster to practice quickly drawing it out. Lastly he began to practice violent, wide, powerful strokes with his blade. Satisfied with what he accomplished Xexrah began to glance over his fellow warriors once again, stopping at Thal. Out of all the warriors in the room Xexrah stopped at Thal, he was a schemer, Xexrah could tell by the way his eyes moved and his actions. He might be useful, and Xexrah would definetely have to watch out for him later on, up until he turns that schemers world upside down. 

The gates, finally opening, bathed the warrior kabalites in a flood of light. Illuminating there dark black armors, and forcing Xexrahs eyes to quickly adjust. Stepping outside he followed the group, making sure to stay at the outskirts, and stared up at the archite. She was a beutiful sight, and she was the second women to catch his eyes today, if it were not for the fact that he'd be decapitated and have each limb sliced off in quick order Xexrah would go straight for her, but Nemele would do, unless that stupid pawn Echar got her first but that was for later. Changing his gaze he panned around, spectating the spectators who spectated him. Several different races, but mostly dark eldar, it wasn't them that he cared about though, it was the guest star this evening. The kabals archon.

_This is perfect,_ Xexrah thought _Now I can impress the archon and solidify a good relationship with the kabal_. Staring at the Archon nearly meant Xexrah didn't notice the archite introducing the opponent. The massive noises that ensued help to change that situation. Turning his body to face the noise Xexrah saw what he thought was a miracle. _Bless you Khaine, bless you._ he thought as he saw a Ork nob raging at them. Pushing forward Xexrah positioned himself at the head of the group. Ignoring the big shoota he barely glanced as Thal ducked and a fellow warrior got blown back. Taking off his helmet he throws it to the side, grinning widely all the while. "Alright, yah big headed, stupid looking, green bastard. Let's see what you've got. BRING IT ON!" he yells angrily before snapping at Thal "What are yah? A Pansy? This is real fighting, for real eldar. You can hide behind rocks if yah want. Me? I'm killing the bloody thing." Pulling out his sword he bangs it against his chest, yelling at the top of his lungs all the while, all the while planning to charge forward with his gun drawn and unleash everything he has head on before engaging in melée combat. Slashing and hacking at the Ork whenever the Ork lunges and misses from a dodgy fighting style, occasionally trying to slash at the orks wrist supporting the klaw. In all truth Xexrah was incredibly nervous, but the screams of the crowd, the archon/archite being here, and the fact that it's a bloody fight against an ork helped supress his fear and give him this craze attitude.


----------



## dark angel

‘But, Elammakil, we aren’t stealing anything at all,’ Came a silky-smooth voice, filled with voraciousness and pleasure, echoing dimly. Elammakil wheeled, cocking his head at the sight of Arkalyd. 

Over his shoulder, was a Kabalite. He wore black plate, chased in a sickly yellow, with intricate swirls of colour across the shoulders and chest. Blood dripped from deep rents in the Eldar’s sides and torso, a gentle pattering on the floor, that made Elammakil shudder. Embossed on the faceplate of the dead Eldar, was an I, silver against black - The Impassioned. 

When he spoke next, it blurred over Elammakil, who was fixated upon the corpse. He held no love for the Impassioned, but such blatant thievery and backstabbing; against former compatriots and blood-brethren, made Elammakil itch. He shook his head clear; laughing derisively, grinning, all sharpened teeth and narrow lips. Brujjn, the maddened brute, tore away the Soulstone from Tormen, and pushed it into Talic’s hands.

They moved quickly, into the arena’s anteroom; where they sat or stood, running checks over their weaponry. Elammakil detached his gauntlet, releasing long, pale fingers from within. Hooks within the gauntlet had tore into his palm and the back of his hand; deep, claret pools amongst clamorous white. He took his punch-dagger, wiggling his fingers into their holds, and pressed the tip against his forefinger. 

Blood crept from beneath the point, sending a hedonistic shudder along his spine. He looked across at Brujjn, who was engrossing himself in a powdered stimulant, and hissed. True warriors needed no such things, they were born to fight, and to die. While Brujjn destroyed his nostrils and momentarily awoke his brain, Elammakil prepared by opening the skin of reach finger; drawing each across his torso. With the blood, he drew intricate swirls and symbols, ancient, originating from the Old Empire.

When he was done, he placed his gauntlet back onto his hand, feeling hooked tendrils sink into his flesh once again. It was excruciating, but glorious.

The arena portcullis shuddered upwards, great, thick chains being pulled into their holdings. Light flooded in, but Elammakil remained still, soaking in the cries of thousands. They did not love him, they wanted his blood, the blood of his fellows, and the blood of their enemies. His eyes danced across them, and he was forced to suppress a snarl. Many were baseborn, wearing ragged robes and the sigils of their Kabals; others were motley beasts, huge and ferocious, slavering and bellowing. 

He sighted the Queen of Acrimony, and gave a graceful bow to her, punch-dagger held over his heart. She lounged comfortably upon a bladed throne, sipping a flute of florescent liquid. On her left and right, lesser beauties sat, equally as naked, both staring on. Opposite, on a mirror-throne, sat someone that Elammakil knew all too well - The Bloodied, The Poisoned; his Uncle, Archon Direngr. 

Both shared a nod of acknowledgment, and a cruel smile. Both shared some familiarities - Tall, graceful and handsome; though Elammakil favoured his Father’s family more than his Mother’s in appearance. His Uncle was marvelous in his armour, with a cloak affixed to his barbed shoulders, framing his features in colourful lace. Elammakil knelt in subservience to both his Uncle and the Queen, the reddened sand shifting around him, lifting his helm from his hip. 

It was smooth, the surface reflective; so that his victims would see their own faces, before dying. Once, it had belonged to his Father; and many a face had witnessed their own demises through it. In one smooth movement, he placed it upon his head, and the world went dark for a brief moment. It returned, seconds later, bathing the world in purple haze. Targeting reticules and data streamed over his vision, bathing his sallow skin in crimson and gold. 

Across the arena, a pair of doors were swinging open. With a tremendous crash, a trio of power-encased claws opened up the door, sending both halves rolling away. A huge beast, all piggish features and tusks, with rippling muscles and imbedded armour, thundered outwards. One of the Kabalites, whom Elammakil did not know or care about, opened up, bathing the nearest of the Eldar in a rain of blood. 

With his Uncle and the Queen watching, he would need to impress.

‘The Ork’s head is mine, any who stand in my way, will substitute with their own.’ He sneered, sauntering forwards, directly into the odiferous thing’s path. 

Rounds hammered around him, sending up plumes of blood-sand, and while Elammakil’s body sidled left and right, his eyes remained firm. It bared yellow fangs, roared, and charged. While Elammakil was pompous, he was not idiotic. He danced away from the first swing of its claw, ducking beneath a second, before striking out at a third. 

His punch-dagger met with claws, locking between them. Heat radiated along his arm, from the crude power generator. The Ork’s gun swung around, the barrel staring Elammakil in the face. With a aggravated growl, he rolled away, rounds chasing him. 

‘Talic, distraction.’ He called, coolly, launching himself behind a boulder. The beast was circling, targeting others. 

He spun up onto the boulder, crouching low, hissing joylessly. When the Ork turned fully, he would launch himself upon its back, and sever its throat. Or, alternatively, he would die...


----------



## Lord of the Night

Visarys scanned the entry way to the hide-out. It was his and had been his since his mother had told him of its existance, but it never hurt to make sure that it hadn't been rigged to explode, or something equally life-ending. After a thorough examination, confident it was safe, Visarys waved Zasht and his quarry over. The wounded Impassioned was babbling unconsciously but none of it was coherent, and therefore useless. If he wanted mindless babbling he'd talk to a Wrack, at least they had some good torture styles to discuss.

The alien merc slinked over to Visarys who gently nudged the door open. The hideout was hidden underneath a drain that spewed toxins from a nearby weapons forge, and some other things that would have been a common sight on a Haemonculus' laboratory floor. The inside was little better, dust covered every surface and the walls were lined with blades and light weaponry, even a few splinter rifles were tucked away in the small space, though it was wide and large enough to accommodate the four bodies inside, with plenty of room to spare.

"A small gift from the family, a place to plot and plan moves that can't be connected to House Melkarion," Visarys explained as he motioned for Zasht to place the wounded warrior on the table. "Its come in handy quite a few times. Now is most definitely one of those times." The Kabalite reached into a small nook and removed a sharp medical pack, it was an Imperial issue pack that had been found on a body from a raid ages ago that Visarys' father had been in. "This will heal him painlessly," Visarys said, straining the last word. This worm would only enjoy torture, but he had something very special in mind.

He began applying the human medical device to the wounded Impassioned while Zasht put chains around his arms and legs, he wasn't getting away this time. Visarys began drawing up ideas for how to torment him into giving away every little secret he had.

"Now my friend Zasht all we must do is be patient and wait, because very soon our new friend will be telling us everything he knows about his Kabal."


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Talic smiled wickedly as he wrapped the soulstone's chain around his neck, for whatever reason Brujin had taken it from that True-born whelp and given it to him, because he was Elammakil's bodyguard perhaps? He slipped it under his armor so that it could not be seen by anyone and took his helmet from his waist and fastened it on his head. The pitch black helm was so dark that it seemed to suck up any form of light just like the rest of his armor, the only blemish in the perfect darkness being two blood red eyes staring out from the helmet.

He fell into step behind Elammakil as the group made their way towards the arena entrance, he felt strange, his limbs seeming to be filled with infinite energy. He wondered if it had anything to do with the stone but resolved that he would soon find out in the coming fight, if it was the stone then he was certain that it would help him provide a good show for the crowd and the Archite.

When they finally reached the doors they were already opening, the roaring cheers of the crowd filling his ears, unbelievably loud despite the sound being filtered through his helmet. He remembered coming here when he was a small child, hiding in the shadows and watching the warriors fight below to the death, he had learned some of his techniques from watching those fighters.

Sand stained red with blood crunched softly beneath his feet as they all made their way out into the arena, boulders of various sizes strewn across the field to provide cover and act as obstacles. He cracked his neck as they all took positions and prepared for their enemy, loud bangs coming from the doors across the arena, the doors appearing to be opening too slowly for whatever was behind them.

Three huge claws tore the doors away as their wielder bellowed in rage, a massive ork with huge yellow stained tusks stepped out of the doorway and tossed the rent doors to the side. Talic smiled, a good opponent indeed, he thought to himself as he rushed behind cover, one of the group exploding into pieces of gore right next to him.

He heard someone shouting and looked to see one of the whore-sons shouting out orders to the rest of them, Talic looked at him and flashed an obscene gesture before rushing out of cover with his rifle raised, his legs carrying him as fast as he could move as he fired at the beast. He dove back into cover, the bullets from the beast's gun trailing right behind him and spattering against the boulder, he had seen Elammakil charging the thing and knew he would end up having to help him.

He shot his head from out of cover to see what was happening, Elammakil had jumped behind cover, "Talic, distraction." he said. Talic's lips curled in disgust, how long would he have to endure this pompous bastard? He thought of what to do before finally smiling and rushing out of cover, running as fast as he could towards the nearest boulder, firing at the ork as he ran. He did this a few times, shooting from boulder to boulder as he tried to turn the ork in his direction so that Elammakil could leap on its back.

He threw his back up against a boulder, feeling the rounds hammer into the other side, he knew he should feel tired but he didn't. He had sprinted at his full speed longer than he was used to and was firing as best he could while on the run, yet he wasn't even breaking a sweat, his breathing as if he was simply walking. Was this energy coming from the stone? If it was did that mean that he would never tire? That he could perform at his top for as long as he wanted?

He laughed at the thought, this was a stepping stone for him, another step closer to obtaining what he really wanted in his life. He narrowed his eyes as he noticed something behind the roar of the crowd and the rumble of what was going on around him, it sounded like something screaming, a piercing scream in the background that was barely audible but just loud enough to be noticeable. He looked down at where the soulstone sat under his armor and cocked his head, could he hear the soul inside screaming?

No. He couldn't hear it, he shuddered in pleasure as he realized that he was hearing it with his mind, he could feel its screams course through his body like lifeblood. It was extremely intoxicating and he immediately fell in love with the feeling, now he knew why Brujin indulged himself in combat drugs, if they were anything like this he didn't blame the warrior.

He shook his head and took in the screams as he readied himself to run to some more boulders, hopefully by the time the ork was done chasing him with its gun its back would be towards Elammakil, allowing him to jump onto its back. He rushed out of cover and ran as fast as he could leaping from boulder to boulder in the hopes of the beast following him with its gun, once Elammakil jumped on its back he would charge it himself, going from boulder to boulder before attacking it with his knives.


----------



## unxpekted22

Tyaer'r and Tormen remain in cover until their players state otherwise. Make sure you read the updates for Thal, Xexrah, Elammakil, and Talic before posting.

Thal: you see no one listens to you in the slightest, Talic, Xexrah, and Elammakil all charging ahead to meet the beast, Talic even flashing you an insulting gesture before doing so. How do you react to all of this and what is your next move? Make sure you read what happens with the Ork below.

Elammakil, Xexrah, and Talic: 

Elammakil engages with the Ork first. While he and the Ork occupy each other, Xerah's rounds from a full clip of splinter rifle ammo pound into the large Ork's side. As Elammakil jumps away the Ork laughs aloud facing to meet the rushing Xexrah.

"_Wimpy poison darts wont be affectin me eldy scum!_ 

He makes a swipe at Xexrah with his massive power claw, who just barely manages to dodge the strike. With his other hand, the Ork backhands Xexrah, the metal barrels of the big shootas attached to his arm smashing against his face and sending him flying. He hits the sand, better than hitting one of the rocks for certain. He is able to get up and get ready for his next move as the Ork begins turning around firing at a new target.

That target is Talic, as the Ork takes the bait. The entire time it seems as if the bullets should be striking Talic but somehow he makes it behind each new rock every time he makes a run for it.

Elammakil wastes no time and jumps when the ork's back is turned. Grasping is harder than expected; the recoil through its shoulders from the twinlinked bigshootas firing full rate a particular reason. The Ork wastes no time in trying to get Elammkil off of him. Unable to reach his upperback the Ork smashes his back into the Rock Elammakil jumped from, Elammkil jumping back on top of the rock just in time. 

Talic takes the opportunity to run out and make his move. He rakes his knives across the orks chest drawing first blood but doing no real damage as he continues running to escape being smashed by the incoming power claw. 

Dalotael and Araklyd appear simultaneously from behind two rocks that are next to each other. They fire their splinter rifles toward the ork's front. Most of the rounds hitting the chest and face, merely causing the Nob to charge them. Brujjn appears suddenly between Araklyd and Dalotael, his eyes wide, sweat on his face, and all his teeth showing with a huge grin. He charges the giant Ork in return. 

As the Ork swings at Brujjn with his power claw, Brujjn with surprising ease jumps up, one foot stepping off of the top claw, the other foot smashing into the Ork's jaw sending an already loose tooth flying with a spurt of blood, and a punch blade into one of its eyes upon Brujjn's dissent back to the ground. The three warriors disappear behind the rocks once more, the punch blade still in the screaming ork's skull, and the crowd roaring in cheer.

All of you make your next moves. Same rules apply as before. You dont get to decide if you actually hurt or kill the Ork.


Visarys:

Your methods are successful in making the Impassioned warrior conscious again without giving him power from pain. You may begin your interrogations. As usual, I will respond for the warrior. You may ask multiple questions at a time. I will try to respond quickly to your posts here.

Razyel: 

Your bodyguard listens to you bringing the body with him. For whatever reason the hellions cease their assault, pulling their skyboards away off somewhere else.

On the way back to the Kabal the remaining three bodyguards are very angry that their fourth member died. through the talk you find out the other two names are Hruth and Fregnr. their species is called Niriken. They are not angry toward you. "_We have been to full scale battles in real-space without losing one of our number, yet one of us dies here like that?!_

You finally make your way to the large bridge leading across a giant chasm, your Kabal's spire on an island of black rock on the other end. A squad of warriros is coming over the bridge the same time you begin walking on it with your three Niriken bodyguards. The squad's sybarite raises his hand indicating for you to halt.

"I doubt our superiors would allow such beasts into our Spire so freely you fool. Leave them in slums where they belong, or dont bother crossing the rest of this bridge." His eight warriors behind him all raising their splinter rifles toward you and the Niriken. 

You can try to persuade him to let you pass with your bodyguard. I will be the judge of how successful any speech you give may be. You may also choose to heed his words and walk the other way, or leave the Niriken behind and enter the spire by yourself.

Nemele and Echar:

Unfortunately I cannot update you two yet for obvious reasons. So your in the same place for now. I have PMd farseer. Sorry Serpion, never would have thought it would be this hard to get you some interaction. Thanks for sticking with it so far.


----------



## revan4559

Razyel stops in his tracks as the eight warriors behind the Sybarite aim their splinter rifles at himself and his three remaining body guards, letting out a small sigh of annoyance Razyel raises his left hand for his body guard not to raise their weapons. "Wait here a moment" says Razyel through his scarf before he walks up to the Sybarite and stops directly infront of him not saving anything for a few moments as he allows the chains attaching the six eldar heads to his bolt to stop their clanging. "You say that you 'doubt' the higher ups of the Kabal will allow such creatures into our Kabals spire? So you do not know for certain if they will or will not? Interesting that one such as you do not know what they will and won't allow." Razyel says with soem venom before deciding to change his persausion techniques. "Nevermind however, will you not be so 'kind' as to simply over look our arrival into the spire as I do bring out mighty Archon a gift me might enjoy ever so much." With that Razyel turns to the side and points directly at the prone yet still alive Hellion. "One of the Lords of Dessent Hellion Gang, though if you were to stop me from taking this gift to him I do believe he will be ever so annoyed that you stopped him from having his fun with one of the hellions we removed from this spire."

Razyel then starts to pace around the Dark Eldar Sybarite and runs his slightly claw like gauntled across the shoulder guards of the Sybarite and then over its back(not sure if its male or female) before he continues. "And such annoyance may cause out mighty Archon to decide to take out his displeasure on those that failed to allow his new toy to be brought to him." Razyel then stops when he finally ends up back infront of the Sybarite and shifts his purple cat-like gaze to the warriors still aiming their rifles at him. "And upon of that I highly doubt any of you 'noble' warriors would stoop to such a menial task of dragging one of our most esteemed kin through the spire halls to await our lords pleasure? So how about you simply over look the fact we were here and allow us inside and I promise that should the mighty Archon decide to let some of the troops have their fun with this Hellion" Razyel shifts his gaze straight back to the Sybarite "I shall make sure that you and your warriors are the first inline. But finally should you decide that you wish to stop us here with those every so fine splinter rifles i shall tell you this." Razyel leans in closer to the Sybarite and whispers into its ear. "There are only four of us and we were attacked by over twenty hellions, which eighteen of them are now lying broken, bloodied and dead within the streets. Now if only four of us managed to kill eighteen Hellions on Skyboards, imagine what we could do to only EIGHT of you hmmm?"

Razyel then leans back and takes a few steps back from the Sybarite and crosses his arms across of his chest. "Oh i forgot there is one final option which is to stand here argueing until the mighty Vect decides to join the Dark Muses but I would rather not stand here until then. So my dear fellow kabalites, what is your decision? Allow us to take this Hellion into the spire? Stand here argueing about not allowing these creatures into our spire? Or start shooting at each other which will result in all of us being dead? So what is your decision?" Razyel tilts his head back to look at his three remaining body guards and gives a slight nod towards their weapons to ready them should the Sybarite and Warriors decide to go for option three. Razyel then shifts his gaze back to the warriors infront of him and awaits their answer.


----------



## Santaire

Tormen grinned wolfishly. He was beginning to like the thrill of battle and if he got all this from watching his comrades attack an ork then the real thing would be so much better. He watched with amusment as Elammakil and Talic attempted to kill the ork. Indeed Tormen was surprised that Talic did not tear Elammakil into bloody ruin for the way the Dark Eldar was treating him. It was quite pathetic really. Talic was obviously a deadly warrior and he was allowing himself to be ordered what to do by another Dark Eldar of the same rank, a True born no less and Tormen had experienced the hate Talic had for True born.

He stepped out from behind the cover he had been sheltering behind and ran towards the ork. He fired a flurry of shots from his splinter rifle and the ork turned to face him. Tormen slowed slightly and took aim, firing at the beast's head. He then slung the splinter rifle and drew his blade. He ran forward. He was planning to hit the ork with a lunge to the gut. After that, if the ork leant forward, he would roll across the thing's back and land on his feet to the other side of it. He would then bring his blade up in a slash that would hopefully end it's arc in the ork's throat. If it didn't then he would dive away from the thing's scything power claw and find cover.


----------



## Lord of the Night

As the prisoner woke the very first thing he saw were Visarys's red glinting eyes. They were smirking, just as his mouth did as he stared down at the prisoner, chained to the table with Zasht standing next to his arms to provide support. The Kabalite had spent the past few minutes devising a scheme by which he could extract the secrets from the Impassioned, and he had made his plans after remembering a particular incident at Port Carmine, the memories of that day giving him the perfect idea on how to deal with his captive.

"Ah awake at last, it took you enough time, my time I would add." Visarys snickered as he spoke the words he knew the Impassioned could provide answers for. "Now that you can speak we have things to discuss. First, why are you in this district? Kabalites usually get murdered here unless they practically grew up here like I did. Second, what are the Impassioned planning? I want to know every operation that you have been a part of, either in planning or execution, and don't feign that they don't tell you anything, those teardrops say otherwise. Third, where are the Impassioned's secret stashes, every Kabal keeps them and I want to know where yours does. And finally, have you ever been to Port Carmine?"

Visarys let the questions hang in the air. The answers would give him everything he would need, and most of all the last question, he relished that he could explain the reason behind it very soon.


----------



## Lord Ramo

Tyaer'r was about to leap forward to help claim the stone for Thal when the others walked in. They deposited a body from their rival faction there and gave the stone to the cur of a half born. Tyaer'r was lucky she hadn't made a move, now it looked like she was neutral and maybe able to use that to her advantage. She maneuvered herself over to Thal. *"Damn them, I was expecting them to intervene."*

She said before the group headed to the prep area. Tyaer'r focused on herself, not noticing how the others were preparing themselves for fighting in the arena. Tyaer'r had no doubt that they would be victorious, but at the same time Tyaer'r needed to look out for herself and ensure that she should survive. She would also attempt to keep Thal alive for now, he was a potential good ally. As the great gates swung open Tyaer'r moved forward with the others, cutting an impressive figure in her armor. She was helmetless as she stared at the crowd that hounded them from all sides, baying for blood to be spilt.

Tyaer'r noticed the queen as well as the leader of the Kabal. She needed to watch out, if she was too impressive then she would be given the most perilous of tasks and maybe found to be a threat to the kabal members positions. Tyaer'r needed to show she wasn't a failure though and needed to contribute. Tyaer'r watched as an ork slammed through the opposing gate. She barely moved when an eldar next to her exploded next to her. The others leapt forward in a vain attempt to impress everyone else. 

Thal tried to get the others to follow his tactics but the others just wanted to impress. Tyaer'r hit cover for a moment as she thought. She didn't want to risk herself too much but would have to. Sighing she sprinted from behind cover over to Thal.* "Thal the others in their foolishness have distracted the ork, we should flank around from either side of the boulder and attack with blades."* She said urgently. She drew her two punch daggers, her rifle on her back. Her plan was to leap out of cover while the others attempted to kill it alone and plant her blades anywhere on its body before pulling them out and moving to another piece of cover. She hoped that she would be fast enough, or she may not make it to cover.


----------



## komanko

"*Reckless idiots*" He muttered to himself as he saw that everyone ignored a brilliantly simple plan that he asked them to follow. Apparently he assumed that anyone who made his way into the ranks of a Kabalite Warrior will be able to follow a simple plan. A fool assumption it was. If that was not enough Talic that dirty halfborn decided that it would be funny to try and insult him. Thoughts of vengeance came quickly to his mind but he pushed them aside, there will be time for this later.

He stopped firing at the ork after just several shots because the pompous Elammakil decided to run into his firing arc. He cursed and muttered to himself as he watched Elammakil emptying a whole clip from the rifle at the nob without any success whats so ever. Unless he tried to anger the ork.

Looking around he saw Xexrah trying a quick rush attack at the nob with relatively no success at all. It was pathetic. It seemed that none of them knew the basics of squad fighting. He continued watching as he saw Xexrah getting smashed aside by the nob's shoota.

Thal continued watching, it was Talic's turn to show what he had in store and Thal expected much as he had the power of the bladed soulstone as well with him. If he would fail it would be a miserable sight. It appeared that instead of attacking Talic's role was just distracting the creature. It was good enough yet did not make any impression at all.

In those moments of pathetic and miserable attacks by various members of the squad Thal felt himself superior and above them. From his point of view it was just a sad and sorry sight. He spat on the ground and muttered another few curses and prepared to move ahead and attack. Surprisingly Elammakil managed to jump on top of the ork's back although ironically before he managed to do any real damage the ork smashed his back against a rock which made Elammakil retread from his new position.

Before Thal was able to do anything of note another two warriors appeared. Dalotael and Araklyd. Both of them fired their rifles at the nob and hit him square in the chest yet as the nob barked earlier. The rifles did not effect him at all they simply made him charge at them. To his surprise the drug crazed warrior, Brujjn appeared from behind them and charged at the ork with a wild grin.

Amazingly Brujjn was the first to damage the nob by smashing a few of the teeth out of its mouth and even stabbing it right in the eye with one of his punch blades. He moved with awe inspiring agility and speed yet Thal knew where all those came from and he despised him for that. As quickly as the trio struck they disappeared against leaving the nob screaming in pain and the crowd cheering in excitement.

Suddenly Tyaer'r appeared near him, for a moment true terror struck him. He was good as dead in this position if she moved for the kill and he cursed himself for being so focused on one thing. Luckily for him it was not her intention this time. She stated that the fools decided not to follow the simple plan and than suggested that they should use the opportunity created to flank the ork themselves and attack him from behind. "*Agreed*!" Thal replied swiftly with a calculating tone. "*Yet you should take into account Tormen's imminent attack. I can see that he prepared so we must strike after him so we wont make each other tumble and fall*."

With that said Thal sprinted right while pointing at Tyaer'r and signaling her to go left. He already had a plan. He would try to reach the ork first. He will use the same piece of cover that Elammakil used yet this time to propel himself and not Elammakil into the air. He will try to make an easy back flip behind the ork. While he will be in the air he will send both of his swords down upon the orks shoulders. The serrated bladed would tear the flesh from his shoulder and back while the smooth edged blade will simply cut him deeply.After that he would intentionally fall on the ground with his back to avoid the orks imminent swipe at him. When he will be on the ground he would cut swiftly with both blades at the ork's legs, one blade for each leg. 

All of this would be great but this would highly depend on the ork's situation at the moment. If he would still be distracted by the wound or not. If such a surprise attack wont be possible Thal decided that he will simply lung at the nob and try to drive Brujjn's punch blade deeper into the nob's skull while at the same time he would stab forward with one blade aiming at the got and defending with the other from its power claw. This will hopefully also distract him so Tyaer'r would be able to make her assault.


----------



## dark angel

He was the first to move, a blur of darkness, leaping through the air. He held his punch-dagger high, glittering in the artificial sunlight, while his other hand was outstretched. The Ork was turned away from him, huge and indomitable, firing at his Kin. 

Elammakil struck the Ork, rocking it forwards. His hand searched frantically, dancing across a ridge of green muscle, looking for a handhold. Vibrations ran along his arm, jarring it; each recoil from the ape’s weapon loosening the Prince. He pressed his fingertips into an old scar, feeling the skin softened beneath his grip; and smiled a cruel smile. The skull was his.

The Ork’s claw snapped over its shoulders, though Elammakil slithered leftwards, and then right. Roaring, the ferocious beast trundled backwards - Into the rock which Elammakil had stood upon. Nimbly, beautifully, Elammakil flipped head-over-feet, and landed atop the rock, to the delight of the crowds, who bellowed their favour. He crouched low, snarling his distaste, and took to watching the spectacle. 

Talic danced forwards, his blades alive in gauntleted hands, blood gushing out. The Ork swung its claw, though Talic was gone, retreating away. Elammakil’s snarl became deeper, contorting his face - _How dare the mongrel take my prize _ - Elammakil would have his tongue; the hell-beasts that his Uncle kept would fight for that, he was sure. That would be dearly entertaining, perhaps Xevashei would be permitted entrance..

No, his whore-wife; magnificent as she was, was in his Mother’s face, incubating her child. Elammakil’s child, the heir’s heir, years from birth - By then, Elammakil would be famed, revered amongst the dregs and wretches, feared and hated by the Trueborn. Xevashei was a well-earned prize, one which he cherished and respected; for the price? His brother.

Their relationship had been as tumultuous as the crowd’s cries, and when Elammakil had cleaved his head from shoulders, he had felt nothing but pleasure. It had been a slow death, one of many cuts, and in turn, Elammakil had been scarred across his torso. His Mother’s wealth had rid of those, 

Dalotael and Arkalyd pranced forwards, loosing monomolecular rounds, which slammed into the Ork’s skull and chest. Brujjn, wild and feverish, stepped between them, his punch-dagger unsheathed. He leapt forth, avoiding a swing of the Ork’s electrified claw; placing one foot upon it, while his other swung wide. 

The Ork’s toothy grin suddenly became bloody. A tooth hurtled free, blood running from the torn gums. Brujjn’s punch-dagger was quicksilver, whistling forth, before impacting wetly against the Ork’s head. The thing’s eye socket shattered, blood and jelly-like substance running away. It only angered the beast further, sending Brujjn sprawling away, before the trio of older Dark Eldar melted away, behind their rocks. 

Elammakil watched all, the blinded stumbling of the Ork, one eye aglow and bloodshot, swinging its weapons. Elammakil moved at once, leaping through the air, intent on cutting the thing’s head away.


----------



## unxpekted22

Xexrah, Elammkail, Talic, Tormen, Thal, and Tyaer'r:

Talic remains in cover for this update. Everything that happens in this update takes place as Xexrah recuperates and gets back into cover as well. 

Tormen moves first. With one eye gone, angered, and multiple enemies moving around him, the Ork's already bad aim goes worse. He sprays rounds from his double barreled big shoota to no avail. Tormen is successful in reaching the Nob and pushing his serrated sword blade into the Ork's gut. Because it isnt a straight edge it doesnt sink in all the way but still about half of the sword is submerged. The Ork Nob wails. As Tormen takes the sword out in an attempt to get up and over onto its back he is caught by surprise...in the Nob's mouth. Large teeth sink into his shoulder region, front and back before he is dropped back to the ground.

The crowd cheers.

Before the Ork can make any further moves, Thal and Tyaer'r sprint out of cover from opposite sides simultaneously. Thal moves to run up the same rock that Elammkail still lays upon. Elammakil unknowing of Thal and Tyaer'r's plan makes his own move at the same time that Thal jumps.

Tyaer'r lands one of her blades in the Ork's ribcage, having to duck beneath the power klaw and get back into cover, her partner some reason not showing up when he was supposed to.

Thal and Elammakil crash to the ground behind the ork, having bumped into one another in the air trying to strike the Nob. The crowd laughs, but a more piercing one comes from Araklyd, as he Brujjn and Dalotael reappear form behind cover again.

While everyone laughs or reocvers themselves, the Ork takes this moment to disengage the guns from his right arm, reaching for a large pack at his waste. His large grubby fingers come out covered in some kind of gel and he begins applying it to his open wounds made my Tyaer'r, Talic, and Tormen; the handle of brujjn's punch dagger still sticking out from its eye socket.

Same as before, just with these new developments of course. Tormen you are still in the open on the ground there near the Ork, he seems not to care at the moment while applying the gel. Elammakil and Thal are in the same situation, but behind the Ork rather than in front. Everyone can show their characters new thoughts, any words they wish to say, and any action they intend to commit next. If anyone at any time wishes to strike another player PM me first.

Visarys:

The kabalite looks up to you, meeting your gaze, "_Why would I just tell you such things, nemesis? Let me ask *you* something, why did you join the kabal of the Torturous Bite? What can that organization do for you? Its warriors are apparently good enough to one: wound a rival warrior but let him get away, and two: take an already badly wounded rival warrior prisoner, and tie him up somewhere. Seems like a pretty pathetic Kabal to me."_

he takes a moment to try and get a better look at your mercenary, Zasht.

_"You must have some kind of quality to get a mercenary at such low rank. I am assuming you are new to the Kabal of course, please feel free to tell me otherwise. Seeing as the wretched Direngr has been inducting new warriors more than ever for his little real space party and I dont see anything of note about your features or armor and have never seen you before, yes, I'd say you're rather new. So tell you what, why dont you consider dropping this whole thing with the Tortuous Bite and give The Impassioned a try. We are more cunning than you could imagine, but more importantly, more cunning than your pitiful Archon can imagine."_

Respond and/or react.

Razyel:

The Sybarite stares at you for a moment, eyebrows harshly furrowed. He lifts his hand and makes a slight wave gesture without leaving your gaze saying, "Tru'lren."

One of the eight warriors lets their splinter rifle go causing it to hang loosely on its strap. The warrior grabs a weapon from his back and brings it to bear. Your mercenaries raise their own guns but are too late. A shredder round whips past you unseen, and the Niriken are instantly caught in a web of nearly invisible razor wire.

The Sybarite then takes three long strides straight toward you, gripping your throat in his armored hand before you can react accordingly.

"_You dont have permission to touch me rat._ He grips tighter, knocking your hands away from your weapons with his free hand as you try to reach them. The cloth around your face beginning to slide off. Soon all you are reaching for is his unwavering forearm covered in obsidian material.

"_If *you* knew anything, you would know that the Archon isn't even *here*. He is attending the Wytch cult of Acrimony's arena events."_

Your lungs begin to burn, they feel like static in your chest and you drop to your knees.

"_Furthermore, why in all of Commorragh would he care for a single unconscious hellion, he is an ARCHON! If he wants a slave or plaything, it is laid at his feet. You and your band of clowns killed a handful of the Lords of Dissent? Puh! Hellions have no significant skills to speak of, are poorly equipped, and have the tactical cunning of a feeble rodent. If they attacked you, it because the Lords of Dissent are desperate to take back territory. They have been ever since *we* moved in and took over."_

Your vision, hearing, and general feeling of touch begins to fade and his words sound as if you are under water. But you still manage to hear a loud cracking sound. After this sound you are dropped, released from his grasp. As your body takes in the air with heavy inhales you can barely control, you see your Niriken bodyguard just now freeing themselves form the shredder shot. They have cuts all over their bodies but surprisingly, are not dead and are otherwise fine.

Still mostly on the ground you look back around and see your own Sybarite, Tyyrn, with his agoniser whip extended. The other sybarite saying, _"So this fool is one of yours then Tyyrn? I feel sorry for you."_

He then moves to continue on his way into the city, all sixteen feet of his eight warriors marching past your face as they move to follow him.

_"In my opinion,"_ says Tyyrn, _"a kabalite nearly brand new to the Kabal obtaining a bodyguard and killing several hellions isn't bad at all. Your lucky that F'ror didnt kill you before I got here though Razyel. Be more careful choosing whose ears you touch with venomous words."_

He begins walking over the bridge towards the Spire. Do you follow him, say anything to him or your Niriken bodyguard? Do you do something else instead?

Nemele: (forgive me the abrupt change of events here...)

As you stay behind cover, trying desperately to think of a way to overcome this situation fate, or whatever you may believe in, does it for you. You peer over your cover to see light form the river reflecting off of several bodies covered in jet-black armor. Flares and waves are signaled to you. Being cautious of a further tap at first you at least take the opportunity to move in closer and when you do you recognize some of the warriors from the Kabal's spire. When you reach their position you find them desecrating the remains of The Impassioned kabalite, his dark lance now in the hands of one of your allies. 

Soon you find yourself upon the raider transport they brought with them, which was hidden away nearby. They tell you of some interesting news. They say they are going to the arena belonging to the Wytch cult of Acrimony, and that the Archite wanted to see a squad of the Tortuous Bite kabalites fight in the arena to finally see if we are a worthy enough Kabal for a true alliance. Whats more, Archon Direngr is there watching as well.

The raider transport makes its way to the enormous citadel and arena, and you soon part ways with the squad of fellow kabalites once inside. As you emerge into the darklight of the arena an odd sound hits your ears. Laughter from thousands of viewers. You look down at the distant gladiatorial pit and see members of _your_ squad fighting a large Ork Nob, and you see what is described in their update above. They are most of the warriors who were in the Spire with you earlier, but not all. Pieces of one warrior are scattered near one of the arena gates so obviously you cant tell if you had met him or not.

You can go into further detail about the darklance enemy being killed and ride over to the arena if you wish, perhaps also what you think about the Archite's decision. Once there and you see the events below what will you do? You can continue to watch and ponder, or you can decide to join them, they are your squad after all. If this is the case I wouldnt suggest trying to jump into the arena, as that would easily break your legs and would piss people off. Go into the citdael and show the wycthes at the arena gate that you are a warrior of the Torturous Bite. They will let you enter, but dont engage the other players or the ork or anything yet, you would be entering the arena at the beginning of the next update


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Talic chuckled as he watched the others attempt to hurt the ork, Elammakil embarrassing himself as he collided with Thal in mid air before falling to the ground gracelessly. He smiled wickedly at his "master", his blood red eyepieces glaring for a moment before he turned back to take in the ork and find himself a target. 

It had opened a pouch at its waste and was spreading a gooey substance on its wounds, the guns on its arm disengaged and useless, now was his moment to attack. He sprinted full speed at the ork, the beast seeming not to care about what was going on around it at the moment as it applied the goo to itself, when he got two steps away he slid on his back, his red eyes meeting the orks as it looked down at itself applying the goo. 

He threw one of his knives, hoping it would hit its remaining eye but knowing that if it missed he had a high chance of still hitting it in the face, whether or not that would do anything though was up in the air. He slid under the ork and between his legs before shooting out behind him and getting up, he took no notice of Elammakil and Thal laying on the ground and charged at the ork's arm with the power claw, and as he ran he pulled his rifle out and aimed at the power cables that fed the claw. He planned on shooting the cables and hopefully doing enough damage so that they failed and stopped feeding power to the ork's weapon, with his claw powerless and his guns disengaged he would be easier to take down.


----------



## Lord of the Night

Visarys was careful to show surprise on his face, if the Impassioned thought him new then so much the better. He felt none of course, an offer to change ranks was one of the oldest pleas alive, but that didn't mean it wasn't a good one. Many Dark Eldar joined with such offers, though they were the aim of revenge for their former Kabals, Visarys had no intention of jumping ship just yet. He didn't have the rank in a Kabal to ensure survival, his status as a scion of House Melkarion would count for something but nobility meant little in Commorragh ever since Vect formed the Black Heart. He did have 'that' as a backup but he didn't like the idea of using it yet, it would mean others knew he could do it and that would alter the playing field, and Visarys wasn't ready for that to happen just yet.

Visarys chuckled lightly as the Impassioned finished his offer. "Interesting that you would make such an offer so soon. I can only assume that you mean to take me prisoner the second I set foot in Impassioned territory, perhaps ransom me back to the Torturous Bite or kill me for another teardrop," he said, running a clawed fingertip across the teardrop tattoos of the captive, already covered in dried blood from the missing eye, "And yet I find myself considering it. So either I am insane, or I have a very good reason to want out. Which I do." Visarys circled around to stand next to the prisoner rather than at his head, resting his chin on his hand he layed out the terms of his defection.

"If I defect I will be brought in on the plans against the Tortuous Bite. I despise the Trueborn in their ranks, especially the snide little nephew of the Archon. I want to claim his head for my trophy rack and his teeth for my necklace," he said, stroking the necklace of dead Trueborns, "I will not be taken prisoner, thus I think some cunning of my own is in order."

Pulling a small blade from his belt Visarys spun the blade against the tip of the gauntlet middle finger. "I think that if I am to wear Impassioned colours, it should be right now. And we can't drag you around Commorragh naked, this isn't a wych arena after all," the Kabalite joked, "Though my armor will fit you perfectly. I wonder how that would be received, an Impassioned bringing in a defector. Perhaps we should find out."


----------



## SwarmTyrant

_Crack! Fwooosh_

Was all Xexrah heard after the Ork bashed his head, twirling around he hit the floor. Angered at the greenskin He begins to slowly rise again, hacking up a bit of blood. Fully staning after that encounter he pats himself off and looks at the audience. Cheering snivelling slaves, they shall all pay for there disrespect. Getting behind cover he surveys the scenario. His allies were not fairing to well against the ork as it continued to rampage around. Not having a eye would be a disadvantage in normal circumstances, but considering an ork's ability to shoot it wasn't too bad. 

Looking over at Talic Xexrah began to think he had the right idea. Reloading his gun he pops up from his cover and unleashes his entire salvo again, this time aiming for the orks head hopefully to get the other eye and more heavily wound the ork. Upon running out of ammo Xexrah takes a single poison dart to hide in a compartment and then throws his gun towards the audience behind him, slides over the cover, and begins to dash forward with Talic."That ought to pleasem," he thinks, blade drawn fully this time Xexrah begins to change course slightly so that he'll end up near the shoota. His plan from there would be to pick up the shoota and slide backwards on his bag as he emptys out rounds into the ork. Then roll out of the Ork's retaliation and start slashing at the ork, hoping to sacrifice his blade in the Ork's Klaw giving Xexrah enough time to shove the dart in the Ork's free eye if it hasn't been impaled yet. If it has then Xexrah would continue to fight the Ork with Talic by his side.


----------



## Serpion5

*Nemele*

Nemele was close to despair when another beam lanced through the rocky outcrop where she was sheltering. A few short moments and another beam hit just slightly to the side of that one. The Lance wielder was steadily eroding her cover, probably taking a lot of pleasure from keeping her here like this until she had nowhere left to hide. It seemed as though this really was the end. She crawled closer to the edge of cover, and caught a glimmer of movement near where the shots were coming from. 

And instantly she let out a sigh of relief. It was another batch of warriors from the Torturous Bite! She emerged from behind the cover and raised a hand to call their attention. A small signal flare was waved in a distinctive pattern and Nemele responed with her hand in kind. 

Finding a shallow spot in the river, she waded across and found a path up the cliff face. She broke into a jog, eager to be among friends once more after being caught off guard and left alone. She arrived at their location to find them inflicting a suitable punishment upon the Impassioned Kabalite who had slain Nemele`s kin. The warrior was impaled ipside down on the rock face, a jagged pin hammered through all four of his limbs and into the cliff. Most of his armour had been removed and he now struggled to free himself while shouting woeful curses at the eldar who were now laughing and jabbing at him with their knives and daggers. 

One of them turned to meet Nemele as she approached. *'Ah, a fellow kabalite of the Torturous Bite?'* He said. *'Welcome sister, so glad that we could be of assistance to you.'* 

*'You have my gratitude, Brother.'* Nemele responded. *'Might I ask what brings you out here to be my fortuitous rescuer?'* 

He laughed in response. *'We were sent to fint the last few of Tyyrn`s squad. You weren`t at the coven like we were told though, se we checked here. Almost a waste of a trip too by the looks of it.'* 

*'Well since you made it.'* Nemele laughed. *'Mind giving me a ride?'* 

* * *​
Most of Tyyrn`s unit were at the wych arena by the sounds of it, and that was where this unit was headed as well. Nemele held on to the side of the Raider as it flew over Commoragh, exchanging a word or two on occasion with the pilot, the same who had greeted her before. Briefly she wondered what it might be like to fly one of these, but dismissed the idea upon realizing that she would much rather be fighting than flying an old boat, no matter how elegant and graceful it was. 

As they flew over the arena and began to descend, Nemele glanced below and saw several of the kabalites she had been lumped with as a unit fighting a xeno, an ork by the look of it. 

The Raider landed, and Nemele disembarked with the others and went with them to the entrance. 

*'Your squad is waiting for you.' *One of them said. *'That way. Make sure you give our kabal a good reputation.'* 

Nemele replied with a savage grin and set off the way she had been instructed. After a time she came to the main gate seperating the arena itself from the combatant rest area and her way inside was blocked by two sentries of the wych cult. 

She peered past them in time to see the ork bite down on one of her fellow kabalites and toss him aside before being assailed by two more. 

*'What`s your business here tramp?'* One of the wyches demanded. 

*'I am a kabalite of the Torturous Bite.'* Nemele replied with a small bow. *'I am a little late but I intend to contribute if you don`t mind.'*

The two wyches exchanged a glance and one of them nodded. The other pressed a switch and the gate opened. Nemele drew her knife, as well as the second knife she had procured earlier, and strode forth...


----------



## Lord Ramo

Tyaer'r smiled as Thal acknowledged her plan and prepared to move and attack the xeno. She held both of her punch knives close to her chest as she steadied her breathing. Thal would be attacking the rear, the most vulnerable part of the ork, whilst she had the pleasure or misfortune to attacking the front. Orks were unpredictable, and Tyaer'r knew that even wounded it could still be a threat. She would have to use her speed to accomplish her task. Fine by her.

Without a moments more hesitation both Thal and Tyaer'r sprinted from the cover they had sheltered behind. Tyaer'r moved with as much speed as possible as she covered the distance between her and the ork. The Ork was busy with Tormen at the moment, and hopefully wouldn't notice her till it was too late. Tyaer'r was only halfway across when Tormen fell back, wounded from a bite, and she was forced to duck under a swing of its powerclaw, going down on one long limbed leg as she rolled underneath its deadly claw.

She stood, one of her punch daggers entering its rib cage causing it to howl. She quickly darted to a side, blade slick in foul smelling blood. She smiled at the pain, but her smile didn't last long. Thal did not turn up to attack. Had he abandoned her to die? Was this part of his plan all along, wait until she was vulnerable and not help her out? She was lucky she had got away unscathed if that was the truth.

She whipped around a boulder, slamming her back, including her gun into it. Her gun was fine, it would take more than her to break it. She looked as the crowd cheered, and she held one of her blades up to show the blood on the blade. Whether it got a reaction or not Tyaer'r didn't care. She slowed her breathing down as she planned her next attack. Both Talic and Xexrah attacked now, aiming at the orks face to blind him as they charged it. It gave Tyaer'r an idea.

She burst from her cover once more, heading at the ork from one side. Her idea was to get close, leap and bury both of her knives in its neck, hopefully she could do enough damage to kill it, hell she wouldn't care at the moment if someone else got the kill, as long as it died.


----------



## Santaire

Tormen howled in rage and pain as the ork's teeth bit deep into his shoulder. He fell to the ground and prepared himself for the final blow but instead of killing him the ork merely began to cover it's wounds in some sort of gel, having forgotten him entirely. He grinned wolfishly, it was a mistake the beast would sorely regret. Still on the floor he watched as the others made their moves. He laughed as Thal and Elammkil crashed together before falling to the ground behind the ork and watched as Tyaer'r plunged one of her knives into the ork's ribcage before darting away. Then he heard the piercing shriek of an overhead Raider and raised his head to see Nemele crouched in it.

He took all this in before gripping his sword tighter and, pushing his legs beneath him, propelled himself off the ground to land on his feet. He raised his sword and made a short sharp swing at the ork's fingers. If that suceeded in removing the beast's fingers then he would then proceed to ramming his blade into it's chest, sinking the blade deep and twisting it in the wound in order to maximise the damage inflicted before diving away from the ork...


----------



## komanko

OOC: Xpekt I sent you the PM but decided to post anyway as you did not reply yet. Just tell me in the PM if I should edit.

He reconsidered the plan he had and thought about it again. There was no room for doubt now so he relaxed his mind and decided to see it through. Before he reached the rock he saw Tormen running towards the ork the next thing which happened was blocked by a fairly large boulder which obstructed the view. 

Thal continued moving and saw how Tormen plunged his serrated blade into the nob's gut. The nob's wail could be heard all around. Its tone low and guttural it was a mixture of anger and pain. It seemed like Tormen will be able to finish the job and kill the Nob yet surprisingly the desperate ork attacked with his mouth biting Tormen by the shoulder and successfully bringing him to a halt and dropping him to the ground.

Seeing that Tormen failed Thal sprinted even quicker. Tyaer'r's figure flickered for a moment in front of him on the other side of the arena. He reached the rock, his feet connected with its jagged surface and he leaped. 

He ascended from the ground and saw the ork's back just a few meters away. He prepared his swords and held his breath when something abruptly smashed into him, it sent him flying sideways and behind the ork who did not seem to notice what was happening. Just before smashing into the ground he caught a glimpse of Tyaer'r who executed her part perfectly. This annoyed him as he looked worthless now and like a fool.

He felt the sandy ground connecting with his bare face which was not protected by a helmet. He never liked the helmet but he could not help but see how helpful it could have been in this moment. He heard the laughter of the crowd and he knew it was directed at him. He heard the cheering and knew that it was the work of Tyaer'r this angered him even further.

Thal spat the sand which decided to inhabit his mouth. He pushed himself up and looked around. Near him lying on the ground as well was the pompous prince – Elammakil. He snarled in anger at the prince and sent a swift yet strong kick directly at his left ribcage which was exposed and easier to reach. The prince did not flinch and lay still on the ground. Not hearing the cry of his victim angered Thal even further and he spat at the warrior, sand and mucus landing on his armour. "You pompous idiot. Watch where you step imbecile!" Thal said in anger and rage.

He than moved away from the warrior just in case that he might spring up for an attack. He did not know him and he might be treaturous so caution should be extreme in this case. He moved behind the cover of one of the close boulders and watched as the ork reached with his fat green fingers to what seemed to be a pack filled with something.

When he removed his hand from the pack it was filled with some sort of gel which the ork immediately began applying on his open wounds. The sound of laughter came from nearby and he saw Tormen on the floor, the markings of the ork's teeth still on his shoulder yet he was laughing. Obviously at Thal and his little misfortune.

Thal clenched his teeth and sneered. He ignored the fool. The ork appeared to be preoccupied with applying the gel and did not bother stomping Tormen to death for that exact reason. A shame... From his point of view he saw the three warriors who wounded the ork earlier reappear again. All these failures of his began to piss him off and he decided not to waste any time. Leaping behind cover he began charging at the ork. He reversed the grip of the smooth edged blade and left the serrated one in a regular grip,

As he charged he already knew what he will do, he will bluntly attack the creature while it is distracted. He will strike, leaping from behind driving the smooth edged reversed blade through the ork's right side of the neck down to its left ribcage while at the same time he will tear with his serrated blade from right to left across the nob's back.

Hopefully the creature will die and if not Thal will be sure to quickly come back and remove its right arm with a swift blow from his smooth blade as the serrated one will not cut deeply enough. He snarled and prepared himself for a sprint.


----------



## dark angel

The Ork was wheeling, snapping; snarling in that guttural, ear-aching voice. If it was words which it spoke, their meanings were lost to Elammakil - Whether out of ignorance or simply being uncomprehending, he did not know. Nor did he care, as he vaulted through the air, glittering black and red, punch-dagger angled inwards; ready for a strike which would sever the thing’s spine and arteries. The crowd would roar for him; bestow gifts and titles upon his name, weep for him should he fall. The Ork’s back loomed, his weapon slung forth, and - 

- Something struck him, and he tumbled back; landing hard. His red-tinted vision blackened, and he was shrouded in the darkness - 

_Slowly, gently; the world returned. It was watery and shifting, colourful and aflame. Around him, Commorragh was burning. The spires were shattered, leaning ponderously, alive in the surrounding hell-fires. An ashen rain, thick and clogging, fell all around him, coating his flesh. For here, he stood; in stark nakedness, his hair unbound and rippling. 

Ahead, a figure stood. Tall, powerful; wearing the jagged plate of the Dark Eldar. A sabre was clasped to his hip, long and serrated and lethal; while opposite, his helm dangled. The faceplate was savage, screaming, unholy. The armour was an oily black; though crimson ran along the edges, contrasting heavily. 

The Dark Kin turned languidly, and Elammakil took a step back; shocked. 

‘Meraxes,’ He snarled, and his brother smiled a red smile; wet and glistening. ‘You are dead.’

His brother’s face was beautiful; saturnine, with high cheekbones and glittering eyes, which were depthless and haunting. His hair was flaxen, long and smooth, though the tips were dyed red and orange. Across his neck, from ear-to-ear, was a brutal split. A dozen more decorated his chest and torso, each running crimson.

‘I am,’ His brother returned, simply, blood weeping from his throat. Bubbles were growing upon his lips, an horrible pink, where spittle met claret. ‘And by your blade.’

Enraged, Elammakil stepped forwards, hands bunching into powerful fists. 

‘Xevashei was mine, El.’ Meraxes gurgled, rattling his sabre from a Mon-Keigh hide-scabbard. ‘You took her from me.’

‘And your head,' He smiled, hungrily. 'The duel was your notion, Meraxes. You merely paid the price of failure,’ Elammakil shot back, without emotion. ‘You have died once, Mer. If you truly wish to do so again..’ 

Meraxes chortled, spurting crimson from his thin lips. He moved with terrible grace, despite the wounds; a blur of black-red. 

Elammakil hissed, and darted forwards, to meet his deceased brother. The sabre went in through his ribs, twisted, and pulled free. Yet only ash ran forth, scattering from the hole in Elammakil’s side.

‘You pompous idiot,’ Meraxes spat, in a voice which did not belong to those lips. ‘Watch where you step, imbecile!’

Instinctively, Elammakil clutched his side, halting the ashen flow. ‘You have undone me, Meraxes.’

‘I have done no such thing, Elammakil.’ His brother spoke, in his wet, ragged voice. ‘Stand, reap your vengeance. Take the cur’s head, I do grow lonely upon your hip.’_
- The arena returned, and he was upon his back; runes dancing across his helm. The laughter of the crowds, directed at him and whoever had struck him, assailed his ears. Soon, it turned into a bloodthirsty cry, and a wet ripping filled his helm. 

He lay on his back, spread-eagled and motionless, staring at the artificial lights. He determined whom had struck him down; that bastard, the churl and his whore. They had designed this, to stain his honour.

Swiftly and elegantly, Elammakil danced to his feet, and pulled off his helm. The coppery tang of blood was strong, and it sent a shiver along his spine. His silver hair, long and unbound, danced across his face. 

‘Thal,’ He spoke softly, not raising his voice. ‘You have dishonoured me. When this is done, I will hang you and your whore’s skins from my shoulders, and your heads from my hip.’

Smoothly, he replaced his helm, snarling in the confined space. Here, he was accompanied only by ghost-images and his own thoughts. 

The Ork had its back turned to him, an easy kill, surely?

He drew his splinter rifle, long and slender; with intricate runes along the sides. And he smiled, firing.


----------



## unxpekted22

Xexrah, Talic, Elammakil, Thal, Tyaer'r, Tormen, Nemele:

From the stands above, encircling the arena, the onlookers finish their laughing as the small black armored figures all rush the Ork in the middle simultaneously, swarming it like a pack of killer insects.

Whether planned or not it does not matter, the crowd sees every warrior of the Kabal in the arena charge the Nob at once, slicing away the power klaw's cables, slicing away its large fingers, blades planted in the neck, back and sides, its second eye taken out, splinter rifle ammunition covering its body to the point that it looks like a pin cushion. Some will whisper a fluke, others will whisper it coordinated. Either way the audience just now begins to feel the pain of the Ork's soul, as its soul is tortured more by the thought of defeat rather than the physical wounds an Ork mind can ignore and endure. The Ork's pain helps you all recover as well.

The Ork Nob falls dead, all of you standing around it in a loose circle. Brujjn immediately jumps on top of its large body stabbing it with his punch blade over and over again, laughing all the while. (the three of them had also participated in the final wave of attacks)

Once this happens, do you think the test is over or are you sure another challenge is about to reveal itself?

While thinking or speaking to each other, Nemele appears, entering the loose circle herself to join her squad in the Archite's tests of the Kabal. 

Soon enough another, another cage door rattles open. You can hear it better than see it with all of the boulders int he way. The crowd cheers, and in an instant the new threat is upon you.

You hear only snarls at first, and a second later five khymera pounce on and off of the rocks ahead of you. A beast master makes himself known as well, floating higher in the air in the distance on his skyboard so that he can see his pets clearly.

One khymera leaps toward Araklyd, one leaps toward Talic, one towards Tyaer'r, another towards Xexrah, and the fifth one towards Elammakil.
Those four players must first defend, avoid, or counter attack their respective kymera before attempting any other actions. This leaves Thal, Nemele, and Tormen open to do what they want at the moment, as well as Brujjn and Dalotael. The same rules apply for posting as they did when fighting the Ork. I will be the judge of whether or not anything dies, it is up to you to convince me such a thing should happen. The same goes for my NPCs, I decide their actions, your characters can only attempt to persuade them to do something. 


Visarys:

The Impassioned's armor does indeed fit, and so yours does for him.

First, you will need to decide how you will make sure he doesnt escape you while traveling through Commorragh. Second, you realize there is a good and bad thing to being in this suit of armor. You may be able to pass for an Impassioned which is good once around them, but in order to get to them you have to pass through Torturous Bite territory first. They would attack you on sight if they saw you, even if you _didnt_ have what appears to be a captured kabalite of theirs captive. There are also many supporters of the Torturous Bite in the area. If you decide to wait until putting on the Impassioned's armor, you risk a member of the Impassioned noticing you with one of their wounded, which could result in everything going wrong.

A final problem: once you head for the door ready to make your endeavor, the voice of your mercenary flicks your ear drums.

"Visarys, I would like to know how you intend on getting me my payment if you are to join The Impassioned? That is a pretty essential ingredient in my agreeing to aid you."

Zasht is no fool, you know this already. He also does not have the voice or posture of some wimpy slave or half assed gun for fire. 

Its also not too late to change your mind about trying to switch kabals.

Razyel:

Still on the last update. I know you said you would try to post by thursday, no rush. I am updating mainly because everyone in the wytch arena had posted and didnt want to keep them waiting.


----------



## revan4559

Razyel's first thoughts of when the grip around his neck is released is to pull his sash back up to its original position while taking in heavy breaths before watching all of the warriors depart from the spire, upon hearing Tyyrn say the name of the Sybrite who was choking him Razyel makes a mental note to kill him at a later point through some horrific accident. Pushing himself to his feet Razyel listens to what else Tyyrn has to say and smirks under his sash about apparently being very lucky before motioning for his body guard to bring the Hellion and follow him and Tyyrn across the bridge. "I said words of venom merely stated the truth of the situation, my venom is much more subtle(sp?) then others i know." Following Tyyrn across the bridge Razyel tilts his head back to look at his bodyguard and to see that the Hellion is still paralyzed before shifting his attention back to Tyyrn.

"I do believe I have an idea which may benifit the kabal in two ways Syabirite Tyyrn. In both gathering forces for the real space raid and in killing many members of the Lords of Dessent Gang." Razyel leans in close so that the paralyzed Hellion can't hear him. "We hire the Lords of Dessent to join our Kabals real space raid under the impression that should they do well they can come back to 'their' spire as long as they join the Torterous Bite should they do a good enough job. But there is obviously the chance that during any battles or fights that some Hellions may fall victim to.." Razyel mulls over the next few words trying to pick them as well as he can. " 'Friendly' fire hmm?" Razyel shifts his purple gaze to look at Tyyrn to try and see his facial expression to guess what he is thinking before turning back once again to his bodyguard. "Truka, make sure that Hellions legs and arms are bound so tight that he is unable to move and it will leave marks, I dont want him getting away."

Once finally crossing the bridge Razyel looks up at the top of the spire before back to Tyyrn and his body guard before once again following Tyyrn inside of the Spire with his bodyguard in tow wondering if they are going to get stopped again or if the other kabalites won't care that he has brought back some none Eldar to the spire along with a prisoner from the Lords of Dessent.


----------



## Lord of the Night

Visarys breathed as the Kabalite armor of the Impassioned captive melded to his form, the barbed hooks and spines digging into his skin to create the alertness that all warriors required to survive, particularly Dark Eldar warriors. The mustard yellow was an unseemly colour but Visarys didn't plan to wear it for long, just as long as necessary. But two prime problems presented themselves quickly as Visarys mentally mapped his route to Impassioned territory.

Firstly he looked like an Impassioned. Around the real Impassioned that was good, in Torturous Bite territory that was bad. Any member would shoot on sight, and not to kill. And even if none of the Kabalites made an appearance there were still the supporters of the Kabal, this may be a lawless district that ruled itself but the Kabal had spies in it. The sight of an Impassioned carrying a wounded Torturous Bite warrior would be worth so many slaves that even the Hellions that passed by might consider parleying with the Archon. But Visarys knew this district well, and he didn't care about anyone enough to not slit their throat if they got in his way. Plus nobody had alerted the Kabal to the Impassioned yet, so either they cared a lot less than the Torturous Bite thought or the Impassioned had hidden themselves well.

The Kabalite surmised he would wait before donning his enemy's armor, but if the Impassioned he was sure were running around the district found him like that he and the captive would be trading places, though they might leave him like this for the failure. The thought amused Visarys but not enough to break his line of thought. It was better to risk being seen by the Torturous Bite than the Impassioned, he wasn't trying to fool the former after all.

As Visarys reached for the door a voice turned his head, it was Zasht. "Visarys, I would like to know how you intend on getting me my payment if you are to join The Impassioned? That is a pretty essential ingredient in my agreeing to aid you." Visarys chuckled, he had forgotten to inform his new friend of his plans, he had been working alone for so long the courtesies of working with others had slipped his mind.

"Fear not my mercenary friend. I don't truly intend to join the Impassioned. I'm Torturous Bite, to them i'm marked for life by that, no matter how brief my membership. They'd slave me out just for having been in the Kabal's fortress. But that would only matter if I actually wanted to join them, which I don't." Visarys paused, letting the mercenary catch onto what he was saying.

"I don't believe in coincidences, the universe isn't that detached. The Kabal begins preparing for its first realspace raid and our biggest rivals are in our district on the same day, doing Vect only knows what. We're going to infiltrate their Kabal and find out what their planning, and sabotage it. And if we should take prisoners during that then I think Archon Direngr will be most impressed. Enough to elevate the two of us into a higher position, and with rich reward for us both," he said, savouring the thought of the reward this venture could reap. It was risky, and a high likelyhood of death went with it. But as Visarys had always believed. Only those who were willing to risk it all, could gain the greatest rewards. That had always being Visarys Melkarion, now it was time to see if Zasht was cut from the same cloth.

"Well Zasht, are you willing to take a risk? Or not?"


----------



## dark angel

No cry of glory escaped his lips, when the Ork stood, swaying; a hundred monomolecular rounds glinting in the sunlight. Blood ran from each of the narrow wounds, dark and thick, dripping sluggishly along the small of its back. His companion’s blades, long and serrated, lay embedded in muscle and bone, one through the neck, where ragged gasps escaped from a terrible wound. 

No cry of glory escaped his lips, when the Ork let out a pitiful, strangled whine, and died. Elammakil smiled a morose smile, feeling the Ork’s pains spread through him, invigorating him, pulsating along his spine. His eyes glittered menacingly, as he stepped closer to the Ork; faceless beneath his helm, tall and powerful and bored. He slung his rifle, flexing the ache away from his hands. Brujjn had pounced upon the Ork, rending the corpse with his punch-dagger; laughing hysterically all the while, his eyes wide and fazed. 

‘Barbaric whelp,’ He spat, sibilantly, staring at Brujjn with distaste. ‘I hope you burn.’

He surveyed the crowds, who shuddered and chanted; engorging themselves on the carnage which was wrought below. Archon Direngr, his beloved Uncle, was perched upon his throne; his face a porcelain mask, a blood-glass flute held in his hands. Opposite, the Queen sat, cross-legged, beautiful in her semi-nakedness. Her two lieutenants, both pale shades of their Queen, smiled delightfully at her side - Each captivating, tempting.

Elammakil purred happily; turning his attentions to Thal and Tyaer’r, and his purr became a low and bitter snarl. They had plotted his downfall, they had shamed him; caused the crowds to chuckle and roar their humour at him. And when all of this was done, Elammakil would have them both flayed and oiled and feathered, and paraded through the streets of Commorragh. Instinctively, his fingers weaved around the pommel of his punch-dagger. He could do it now - Open Thal from groin-to-chin, while his Whore wailed and clawed at him; and then, she too would follow her to-be paramour in death.

A nearby gate lifted up, eyes turning towards it. Elammakil expected another foe, something exotic and fierce. Instead, a shapely figure sauntered forwards, into the light. 

‘Nemele,’ He grunted, remembering her from the Spire. Disappointed, Elammakil turned back to the Ork, now a ruined husk, deflated and bloody. 

Moments passed, the Squad standing mostly in silence, bar the few hushed discussions. What would be next? Surely, the Acrimonious Queen would not let them go unbloodied? Surely, the- 

The sound of a gate arising assailed his ears. A great, cankerous rattling filled the arena, as a brazen portcullis retreated into the walls of the arena. Elammakil shifted, on the bloodstained sand, tearing his punch-dagger up, kneeling low in a defencive position. When the rattling became a low whisper, something terrible came from the darkness. 

Wet snarls, animalistic howls, bloodcurdling and promising. Five crimson shadows padded from the darkness, on long, taloned limbs. 

‘Khymerae,’ Elammakil gasped, recognizing the hell-beasts. Deep beneath his Mother’s Palace, dozens of these beasts were kenneled, in their skinless ferocity. They were tamable, to a certain degree; though Master Kaelyr, his Mother’s beast-master, had lost his left hand to one of the summoned creatures during his youth. 

Elammakil remembered Kaelyr’s unhealing wound; forever bleeding, with bone and ruptured arteries exposed. And yet, the old bastard did not care - Locking it away beneath a slithering electro-whip. These creatures were monstrosities, summoned from the ether, locked in hide-less bodies. 

One lifted its head, acidic saliva dripping from between misshapen fangs. It was as large as a warhorse; with an elongated snout, and a trio of fiery eyes. The muscles, veins and bones were open to the air - A gentle, red drizzle trailing behind it, as the Khymera bounded towards Elammakil. 

The Prince stepped forwards, smiling woefully, and leaped atop a rock. He would make the beast climb to him, any possible advantage was needed here; where the crowds wanted nothing but his death. Even if his Uncle was present, would he intervene, if his Nephew was to be clamped between the thing’s jaws?

‘I think not,’ Elammakil said, letting out a high pitch whistle. ‘Come, hound. Taste my blade.’


----------



## Serpion5

*Nemle*

Nemele looked up at the crowd and raised a hand holding her stolen dagger. She looked at some of her squad members, making a brief eye contact with Elammakil. He seemed disappointed to see her, much to the kabalite`s amusement. 

_What a shame that so few of them realize what I will become one day._ She thought to herself, still wearing the same arogant smile as she lowered her dagger and raised the other. She strode towards the centre of the ring, in time to revel fully in the ork`s painful demise. She spared a few glances for her fellow kabalites as the gates opened again. Nemele wondered, what would be next? She had missed the chance to partake of the ork`s suffering in any true sense, so hopefully this would be at least as interesting or better. 

Snarling filled her ears, a sound she was well accustomed to to be sure, but not on this level. Moments later five enormous warbeasts emerged into the ring, hideous amalgamations of the warp`s primal fury and the beastmaster`s cruel art. They each singled out one of the kabalites and moved to attack, Nemele left momentarily unengaged as her fellows prepared to fight back. 

She took a step back, ready to react at a moment`s notice as she quickly took in the scene. Elammakil was the closest to her, and was about to bear the brunt of one of the creature`s charges. She wondered if he would need help with the beast. Would he prefer to gain glory by killing the creature in a one on one duel? Of course, all were expected to display their prowess here and it would be ill fitting if she simply stood by while another kabalite slew the creature by himself. 

Then again, perhaps he would fail. Perhaps he would miss his attack and be bitten in half, leaving Nemele with the glory of this kill to be. The thought was immensely amusing, but based on Elammakil`s reputation, unlikely. The best option then, was to _take_ a share of the spoils, and to hell with his wounded pride. 

The skinless monstrosity bounded towards him, as he taunted it with a high pitched whistle. Nemele slunk behind the creature`s forward arc as it closed the final distance. Elammakil had two options, either try to hit it from above, in which case he`d better have strong legs, or a last second dive followed by an attack to the flank. Either way, it would be vulnerable from behind and below. Nemele broke into a run, her plan already formulated. 

When Elammakil made his move, Nemele would react, hitting whichever flank was exposed and raking both of her daggers through as many of the visible arteries as she could before withdrawing as swiftly as her legs would allow. 

If Elammakil was as competent as he seemed to be, that should provide all the distraction he needed.


----------



## Lord Ramo

Tyaer'r leapt from her cover, knives drawn as she charged down the warboss. It seemed the others had all done the same thing, so the entire squad charged in a perfectly co-ordinated attack from the outside viewing. However if you were in the squad then it was understood that this was a fluke, no one was working together here, they were using each other to try and gain the most recognition in front of the crowd and their leader. Tyaer'r had successfully planted her knives in the orks neck, and soon with the others attacks it died.

Tyaer'r could hear the crowd roaring at this, obviously content with the pain and pleasure that was just caused down in the arena. Tyaer'r could feel a bead of sweat on her forehead and she turned to look at the crowd. Yes she had felt pleasure in the death of the ork, though it had been hard going and it had brought home some hard truths that she would have to deal with. She put an armored gloved hand against a bolder as she looked at the crowd, not all were dark eldar, some were other alien races, slaves and pirates. All they wanted was blood, they cared not who gave them the blood only that it was spilt, that someone died. Tyaer'r stooped down to clean her two blades on the sand that was underneath their feet, getting the foul smelling ork blood of her knives. She raised one to her tongue, licking it to taste the ork blood. 

She was brought back by the arrival of the disgusting half born Nemele, though she didn't show any sort of emotion on her face when she arrived. Tyaer'r stood again and looked around the group, they were all pathetic moronic excuses for Kabalites. None of them had the skill set that she had used. Thal was dangerous, mainly because for a moment she had trusted him and he had abandoned her. Tyaer'r would have to try harder to ensure that the same thing did not happen again. Talic was a mindless slave, just wanting to get heads and blood, whilst Elammakil, who was giving her a look as if she had slighted him, only got so far due to his family connections. She would have to watch them both now or she would end up with a knife in her back. Tormen seemed idiotic, he was no danger to her at least thats what she reasoned. 

The group stood their for a moment unsure on what was going to happen next, Tyaer'r grabbed her knives and held them tightly to her, she was sure that this wasn't their only test and she may have need of them to take on any others that thought she was weak. She would kill them all if she had to, though she knew she could never hope to beat all at once. There was creaking from a gate behind her and she turned to look, and what she saw she did not like at all.

Hounds errupted from the black pits, khymera. They were deadly beasts and Tyaer'r knew that the group would be hard pressed. She saw one of them snarling as it leapt from boulder to boulder, intent on her. Great she would have one of these beasts chasing her she thought to herself. It stopped for a moment and they both made eye contact, the beast leaping into the air as it launched a quick attack at her. Tyaer'r leapt to oneside, rolling away as she sprinted to her feet, the hound a second behind her.

Tyaer'r was fast, she had long limbs that would help and incredible reactions, but the hound was faster. There was no way she could outrun it, she would have to fight. She used the boulders to try and confuse it, weaving in and out of them with the hound following her every step. She was running between two boulders when she heard its feet leave the ground. She acted quickly, pushing off on her right leg from the ground while her left a few milliseconds later pushed off the left rock, propelling her to the top of the right rock. She could see Elammakil on another rock, daring a beast to attack him, and she drew her knives as she realized she would have to defend herself. If it leapt at her, she would duck and try and rake the underside of its body, bloody it up a bit.


----------



## komanko

A silence befell the crowd or was it the adrenaline pumping through Thal’s veins? Everything seemed to be slowing down as he sprinted towards the enemy. He looked down and saw the sand being crushed under his feet. He smelled the odor of blood, its magnificent smell passed through his nostrils.

He could feel the hair at his back as the wind made it rise. He closed his dark green eyes for a moment letting the madness of battle slip away. He had to be calm and calculating and that’s exactly what he was.

His sword twisted finding its place at the nob’s neck. A shiver ran down his spine as he heard bones split and flesh tear. He shuddered yet did not falter. His serrated sword tore through the ork’s back leaving deep wounds which bled intensely. Blood spilled on his face, he licked his lips the taste eternally godlike.

In front of him Tormen stood, he saw the nob’s fingers flying through the air as the Kabalite’s blade sliced through them. Thal looked at torment he could see Elammakil’s silhouette reflecting from the warrior’s armor a splinter rifle held in hand. He dived to the side, rolling gracefully to his feet. Not a moment later fire erupted dozens of splinters filled the nob’s back where Thal stood just a moment ago. 

He turned back to the Nob. It did not look mighty any longer. Its neck half torn, it’s back resembled a pin cushion. It was maimed and its weapons lay on the ground beneath it. It was reduced to a bloody pulp and nothing more, no more was it strong and mighty. He could feel the creature’s soul; it was in pain yet not from the wounds. He could’ve sworn that he heard a howl of rage coming from a far as if the nob’s soul roared in anger of its defeat.
It did not matter, the creature was done for and he could feel himself being invigorated by the torture of its soul. It was clear that the crowd felt it as well, some moaned in pleasure while others cheered at the sight of real battle. Quite madness glittered in Thal’s eyes, his mouth twisted in a crooked smile. The lust for blood was nearly overwhelming for him.

The sound of footsteps tore him away from his inner solace. He looked up from a mixture of red and black which was his armor just to see the drugged warrior, Brujjn jumping on top of the dead ork and beginning to fanatically tear through his body with his punch blade. His laughter rang from the arena’s walls. It resounded in a way which made it sound much more menacing. Something was not right with that Kabalite and Thal knew that he preferred him dead.

He looked around everyone were busy in a way. He knew that the battle was far from over. The challenge they faced was hardly difficult for a single warrior he thought arrogantly. Soon a new challenge will present itself he could feel it in his bones. His skin crawled with excitement. 

Another sound distracting him, something heavy landed on the sand. He looked to where the sound came from and saw a kabalite warrior, he recalled that her name was “Nemele” she was one of the warriors who was supposed to be part of the squad, was she here to partake in the glory of the challenge. She was, she had no other reason to be here unless she wanted to get killed in a humiliating way.

He turned and surveyed the other warriors, most were barely hurt. A shame. The creaking of a gate tore him from his thoughts. Quickly roars and howls filled his ears along with the sound of many feet. They faced more than one foe as much was clear. He spun his blades in a circle splattering blood to all that surrounded him. His blades were ready for more. A mad grin spread across his pale face his bloodlust barely contained. He never felt so alive before, the smell and taste of blood drove him to higher limits.

He turned backwards as the sound of feet came closer. A moment later their new foe made himself known. Five warp beasts appeared; they sprinted towards their prey in unnatural speed. Powerful muscles drove them forward on four long and skinless legs. A different sound caught his attention, looking up he saw a skyboard, on it stood the leader. A beast master.

The Khymerae split. Each hunted its own prey. Sadly Thal was left without a beast to entertain him. It was time to change that. He looked around and saw that one of the beasts was forcing Tyaer’r to seek higher ground. He knew that from all the warriors she would take less offense by his interference and as he did not seek any more enemies he turned to the beast hunting her.

Tyaer’r leapt for higher ground; she propelled herself to a higher rock and was evidently preparing herself to face one of the mighty beasts. Nerr’ak sprined to the side he followed the beast that hunted her in a parallel line. He prepared for the beasts leap and he knew that it would come. 

He prepared himself to change direction towards the beast and while preparing he began closing the gap between him and the beast trying to get into a short distance without arousing the beast’s interest. When he was there he threw his sword in the air and yet again caught it in a reversed grip. His curved smooth edged sword was reversed in his right hand while the serrated was normally gripped in his left. When the beast will leap he will leap towards it catching it with a blow from above and below at the same time in a motion which will resemble scissors closing. Hopefully it will tear the beast in two. If it would not leap Thal will simply charge and kick it straight in the chest hurling it away from Tyaer’r.

While the plan was formulating in his head he had an urge to try and slide below the beast when it leaps and at the same time tearing through it with his swords. He chuckled to himself deciding that he will try that sometime if he had the opportunity. But before that he knew that he will have to bear his weapon at the beastmaster who hovered above on his petty skyboard. 

He looked at the beast and snarled in hatred. Although it was a magnificent creature it was his enemy and it was its time to die. His dexterous form sped across the sand slowly closing the gap between the creature and himself.
A predatory smile spread on his face, the madness of battle lingered on his eyes. He was ready for blood.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

His body shook with pleasure as the tortured Ork finally died, its body unable to continue after receiving so many wounds at once. As the crowd roared with joy he thought about the soulstone, his breath was slow and calm as if he had been sitting and watching the fight instead of partaking in it, this charm was truly an amazing treasure and one which he did not intend to part with. His body was performing at peak efficiency one hundred percent of the time, this thought brought a sick smile to his face as the crowd began to cheer at a new arrival...that whore Nemele.

He heard gates opening on the other side of the arena, his body jumping lightly as he danced on the balls of his feet to ready himself for whatever else the Queen of Acrimony was going to throw at them. The wet growls and snarls of the warp beasts reached him before he spotted them, skinless catlike daemons with razor sharp claws and teeth that could tear any of them apart easily, he had watched the mighty Khymera tear at their opponents apart before in the arena and it was a bloody affair.

His red eyepieces locked onto the maw of one of the beasts as it jumped from behind a boulder, its talons aimed straight at his neck. He jumped to the right to dodge the beast, his legs powering him to the side at full speed as he fired his rifle at its moving form. The beast skidded to a halt in the sand and turned to look at him before roaring in anger, Talic squaring himself with it ready to move in a split second. He stared at the daemon with his knife drawn and rifle in hand, his body posture aimed at taunting the beast into the first move.

He smiled as it hissed at him,*"Come beast, let me spill your blood."*


----------



## unxpekted22

Talic, Elammkail, Tyaer'r, Thal, Nemele, Tormen, and Xexrah:

Elammakil and Nemele:

The Khymera leaps up towards Elammakil, relentless but makea a high pitch squeal mid-leap as a the figure of Nemele rushes into its side just before Elammakil's blade swipes across its face.

the beast falls hard to ground breaking bones loosened by the cut muscle strands from Nemele's blade. The crowd again like seeing what looks like team work, but this also takes glory away from each of you as individuals. 

Tyaer'r and Thal:

Tyaer'r raises her blades only to find she will in fact not have to defend herself. Thal sprints in at an angle, catching the Khymera with ease as its sharp, animalistic focus is on Tyaer'r only. He cuts its midsection to ribbons, killing the beast and sending it sliding into the sand far enough that Tyaer'r finds the need to step out of the way as the dead hound slides just past where she stood. 

The four of you turn your attentions back to the center of the arena where the following happens:

You see one khymera go for Araklyd. He is of course backed by his allies. Between himself, Brujjn, and Dalotael, the beast falls with ease, though none of the three of them look pleased. Based on Brujjn's performance with the Ork you may guess they would rather work as a team with one of them getting some spotlight time per kill, and it looks like Araklyd may have just missed his turn. The Khymera attacking him moved too fast for anything else to happen though, so if he is upset about this may be up for debate.

Another of the Khymera went for Xexrah, who like several of you attempts to take the beast head on, having faith in his own abilities. Despite what faith he may have, the beast ignores his blade's counter strike, punching a set of its front claws so deep into Xexrah's chest that the talons burst out from his back armor. This of course sends xexrah to the ground with the beast over top of him, who proceeds to rip the dark eldar's head off with its saber-toothed maw, blood splashing out over the sand at the pop of pulled vertebrae.

Only after it is done killing Xexrah do splinter rifle rounds rain into it from Araklyd, Brujjn, and Dalotael's splinter rifles, but again whether this timing was purposeful is yet another thing up for debate. 

Something different happens with the beast going for Talic. Just before the Khymera moves to take Talic's challenge, the beast master swoops in, staying just out of range of Talic. He makes wale of noises and lashes his whip at the Khymera, instantly sending it bounding in a different direction....straight to Tormen whose attentions are still on the khymera that killed Xexrah as it is shot down by the allied true borns. 

The Khymera runs full speed at Tormen's back, who barely dodges the attack.

So, Nemele, Elammakil, Thal, and Tyaer'r:

You may only speak with the other character you are next to (so Thal and Tyaer'r, Nemele and Elammakil). if you wish to do so. Whether or not you talk, make a decision: Try to be the one that kills the final Khymera, attempt to hit the floating beats master with some splinter rifle rounds, or feel that you've done your share this round and wait to see what happens while keeping your guard up.

Tormen: same choices as everyone else, attack the khymera that just charged toward you, wait it out, or maybe aim for the beast master.

Talic: Normally, the beast master would in fact be out of your range, but he doesnt know you have something special making you faster than he perceives. You are the only one who would be able to reach him by hand or blade, but just barely. As usual if you choose to go for him you wont be able to declare his death, thats for me next update. You may also choose to go after the final khymera or just stand by on guard and wait the rest of this round to see what happens.

Swarm Tyrant, you're welcome to rejoin if find you have the time and desire to do so again, though, a new character will be needed of course. They can be similar in personality and such but name and background would likely differ to some degree.

Visarys:

"Most definitely." Zasht replies quickly, "Might I suggest then, that you put your cloak back on, no need to run around with Impassioned colors in your kabal's territory practically showing them off."

He reaches to the Impassioned warrior with a hand appearing to be surrounded by cloud or purplish smoke, apparently ensuring the warrior does not wake up anytime soon. "I can re-awake him instantly if need be," 

He seems to hesitate for a moment, "I have some ties with the shadows..., that would get us into the Impassioned Spire without having to worry about kabalite detection, though such a travel would likely come with some dangers of its own."

Normally you'd be able to realize right away when someones facial expression means that they are asking you if you want to do that, but his oddly expressionless face, slightly clouded by that dark mist about his form causes you to take some time before realizing he is asking you.

So, what will it be, take Zasht up on his offer and try to get into the Impassioned base that way, or go the more traditional way and traverse though the streets of Commorragh? 

Razyel:

Tyyrn appears to try and hold back his grin but it shows noentheless, at hearing your plan. once he grins he doesnt try to hide it further and full out smiles with a laugh, _"Glad to have you in my squad Razyel. Come, you will find that plan is already set in motion. I brought some of the others in the squad along with me for one of the many, many steps to make that happen....but most of them failed miserably in achieving anything. In fact, three of the warriors standing in the room with you earlier have already been slain and now lay in Commorragh's mutilated soils. "_

_"Most of what you have devised is what is going to happen. What I have in mind varies slightly, but you're head is in the right place. First I must teach you something."_

He looks to Truka and then turns back to you with a finger raised to him, _"Tell your alien friend to hand me that hellion."_

How do you react?


----------



## revan4559

Razyel say the grin appear on his sybrarites face and a grin appeared on his own but luckily it was masked by his sash wrapped around his face. Listening to Tyyrn explain that he had also had the same plan made Razyel feel both pride and annoyance at the fact he thought he was going to be original and gain some favour with the Archon by suggesting to use the Lords of Dessent of cannon fodder. Razyel also listened to Tyyrn explain that three of the warriors from his squad had already died in teh short period of time it had been since they had stood in the hall together but he thought to himself if they were too weak to survive then it is better of they died without holding back the Kabal when it came to the real space raid.

As Razyel, his bodyguard and Tyyrn continued to walk across the bridge Razyel heard his leader say that he has something to teach Razyel and for it he will require his captive Lord of Dessent. Instantly Razyel's mind shifts to a single word that flashes in the fore front of his mind over and over again the word "Threat" as he starts to think on why the sybarite might want to demonstate on his captive. He comes up with several reasons such as Tyyrn is actually lieing and wants to steal Razyel's idea, he wants to kill the captive so that Razyel can't say he captured one of their kabals rivals, several more reasons flash through his mind but there is the chance that Tyyrn actually does have something to show him which may help him in the future...Should the sybarite do one of the worst case scenarios he can always have Trukka put a bolter round through his chest and cut off his head to present to the Archon along with giving some excuse that Tyyrn was a spie or attempted to gather a coup against him...Yes that would be perfect thinks Razyel before he shifts his attention to look at Trukka.

"Trukka give Tyyrn the kabalite but before you do i need a word." Razyel stalks over to Trukka and moves around to whisper in his ear so that only he can hear. "However should Tyyrn do anything that I do not believe is useful to me in anyway I will click my fingers on my left hand and you are to put a round from your bolt pistol straight through his thorax, is that understood?". Getting a nod from Trukka Razyel moves to the side to allow Trukka some space to hand over the Hellion before he watches intently at what Tyyrn does next, not really in the mood to trust anyone at the moment other than his bodyguard which have protected him thus far.


----------



## dark angel

The Khymera came on, slavering; inexorable, filtering between reality and unreality; a flickering, red-white spectre. Elammakil stood, his black tabard fluttering around him - Spreading behind his back like a pair of monstrous wings; a foul contortion of an angel, menacing and saturnine, blade clutched in hand. 

The Prince raised the blade above his head, gripping it tightly. ‘Dance with me, then.’

And then it was leaping through the air, braying unnaturally, drizzling crimson. A figure sauntered in, rending the thing’s side, rotten organs and loose bones clattering out. 

Elammakil smiled, and brought his blade down in a terrible strike. The beast’s skull cracked, painting Elammakil’s helm and chest in blood; though he cared not. The beast stood, sagging in the rear, letting out a pitiful mewl. The pain was palpable, soothing; dripping into Elammakil’s body. He shuddered, biting down upon his lip, and wrenched his blade free.

Half of the skull fell away with it, landing at his feet, before dissolving into nothingness. His Mother’s Khymerae were far fiercer; larger, faster, smarter. This was only the beginning - What did the Queen of Acrimony have penned up beneath her citadel, that was yet to be unleashed upon them? 

Elammakil gave a mock bow to the crowds, reveling in their roars; a boyish grin seeping across his thin lips. One of the Khymerae went bounding for Arkalyd, Brujjn and Dalotael stepping besides him, weapons upholstered and ready. Monomolecular rounds hammered into the creature, which whined and collapsed, letting out one final breath, before dying. The scowls upon the older Eldar’s lips was comical, one of anger and betrayal; each of them standing tall and tense. 

The large Dark Eldar, the overly confident one, died screaming. His attempts to kill the Khymera failed, talons erupting from his back in a welter of gore, while the beast worried at his neck with dagger-teeth, pulling away the head with a crunch. The red sands grew redder, as the beast gorged; before it was put down by the trio of Eldar, again with their Splinter Rifles. 

Only then, did Elammakil turn on Nemele, momentarily removing his helm; holding it in the crook of his arm. His pale countenance twisted - Into a smile, his silver hair shining like beaten metal, flickering about his cheeks. His eyes glittered, cold and fixated upon Nemele.

He offered his hand - ‘Well fought, for a female,’ He said, his voice light and jovial. ‘I do believe that it would be wise; if we were to stay together, our spectacular Queen does enjoy troubling us.’


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

The beast growled at him, about to jump to his challenge, yet he was denied his prey. The beastmaster flew between he and the daemon, making a cacophony of noises, a few of the sounds leaving his mouth vile curses in the ancient Eldar tongue. The beastmaster hovered in front of him with a smile on his face as the khymera bounded away towards some other target, the ignorant fool truly thought he was out of his reach, he was most certainly in for a brutal surprise.

Talic cocked his head to the side before taking his helm off and throwing it to the sand, the crowd cheering violently as he licked his lips, his eyes boring into the beastmaster's own bloodshot orbs. He began to circle the eldar, the hoverboard just out of reach to anyone but him due to his trinket, "Sing your praises to Khaine now beastmaster, I will bleed you dry before this show is over."

Just as he was finishing the statement Talic flung himself as hard and fast as he could at the beastmaster, his knife aimed at the Eldar's wrist connected to the hand that was holding the whip. He would cut the beastmaster's hand off effectively taking the whip out of the equation, once the hand was cut off and the beastmaster suitably preoccupied with his stump Talic would fire his rifle until the bastard was on the floor dying.

Once that happened he would cut open the beastmaster and tear out his heart for the crowd, after all they did want a show and he was more than happy to allow his personal sin of drinking the blood of the fallen entertain the onlookers.


----------



## Santaire

Tormen rolled to his feet as the crowd roared. He had moved only just in time. Avoiding the beast's slashing claws by a milimetre. He drew his sword and held in a guard position. If the beast lunged again it would get a nasty surprise. It was circling him, gradually closing in. Tormen was wary. He had seen what a Khymera could do before this arena and knew that one false move would see him dead on the floor of the arena. He was tense, following the khymera's every movement. When it was within five metres he attacked. Sprinting forward he brough his blade round so that it was level with the beast's neck. If everything went well then the beast would die or be at least injured. If it didn't then slaves would be given the job of scooping up the mush that would be all that would be left of Tormen once the beast was finished...


----------



## Serpion5

*Nemele*

Nemele`s blades punched through the creature`s flesh, extracting a scream of pain which was swiftly silenced by the deadly bladework of Elammakil. There was a sickeningly sweet rending of flesh elsewhere, and Nemele noticed with amusement that one of her fellow kabalites was not so fortunate. 

'Xexrah. Hmph. Fitting end for that pompous fool.' Nemele muttered. 

She turned to Elammakil, to find him meeting her gaze with a look of arrogance that also hinted at respect. His helmet was under his arm as he approached. 

*‘Well fought, for a female.’* He said to her, holding out a hand as he spoke. *'I do believe that it would be wise; if we were to stay together, our spectacular Queen does enjoy troubling us.’* 

Nemele smiled back politely and gave her hand to his. His voice was one of amusement, as though he clearly enjoyed being in the arena. She assessed him quickly as she formulated her reply. He was skilled and well enough built, that was for sure, and had the swagger of a noble. She wondered briefly is he was some sort of royal, it was plain that he was trueborn in the very least. She would refrain from speaking on the matter, lest her ignorance somehow offend him.

'I believe you are correct.' She replied to him after a few moments. Teamwork seems to be the best way to survive, as individuals and as a kabal. Pity that Xexrah could not benefit from that security.'

Following this exchange, Nemele stayed in an alert position. She sheathed one of her daggers and drew her splinter rifle. Suppressing a grin, she resisted the urge to take shots at the beastmaster and the other khymera. Somehow, it just didn`t seem... sporting.


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## Lord Ramo

Tyaer'r raised her blades to defend herself from the foul beast that leapt at her, intent on killing her. Tyaer'r didn't like the situation, it wasn't her element. She was fast and silent, the arena was suited for the silent type, and she was sure that this situation could lead to death, something that she was sure she didn't want to happen. The beast was so close to her know in its leap, spittle lined its mouth as it opened its jaws. Tyaer'r brought a knife up to stab. But it never met flesh. 

Thal had appeared out of nowhere, leaping with his blade to cut the foul warp beast in half, cutting through its midsection. The severed and dead hound flew towards her still and she had to leap to oneside to avoid being hit by it.

She slowly stood, brushing the sand from her armor, her face perfectly blank. Thal had stolen her kill, had robbed her the pleasure of ending its life, to have her blade sing as it drew blood from the target. Her face broke into a smile as she got close to Thal, _*"Timely intervention there, but perhaps maybe you could have striken earlier so I didn't have to dodge around rocks to stop myself being made its chew toy."*_ She did like Thal, he was better company than most. When she came to power she could use him, even if she would have to keep an eye on him.

Tyaer'r turned with Thal to look on to see how everyone else had faired. The miserable cur Elammikil had been helped to victory by Nemele, Araklyd backed by Brujjn and Dalotael. They seemed to be working together, but with each kill one would try and be in the spotlight.

Tyaer'r noticed Araklyd looked aggrieved, obviously the idiot hadn't paid enough attention and had missed out. Xexrah someone that Tyaer'r barely had a second for, the cur being an idiot tried to take a beast by himself. He died quickly and painfully, screaming as the others brought the beast down with sustained splinter fire.

Tyaer'r smirked as the other true borns brought it down, she reckoned they had deliberatly waited, weeding out the weak and letting the strong live on. *"So our illustrious allies have killed two beasts Thal, and we have only killed one?! We best keep up, our Lord is watching."* She said, drawing her splinter rifle and firing at the last beast, on shot at a time.


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## Lord of the Night

Visarys glanced down at his new Impassioned colours, Zasht was right. If a fellow Torturous Bite Kabalite saw him they would shoot to maim, and the fact that it was Visarys underneath wouldn't matter very much to whoever found him. Deciding that Zasht had a good point Visarys wrapped his cloak around the armour, concealing most of it, and raising the hood to obscure his helmet. Running his hands over the belt he made sure his blades were securely attached, he wouldn't abandon them, he was fairly certain he could get his armour back later on, but Visarys didn't want to risk his blades on a hunch.

Zasht reached out to the incapacitated warrior, his hand shrouded by smoke coloured purple, claiming the warrior wouldn't awake and that he could re-awake him if necessary. Visarys was about to congratulate him when Zasht spoke, apparently reluctantly. Visarys was actually surprised at his admission, ties with the shadows. Visarys had heard many names for them, Stalkers, Creepers but their real name, the Mandrakes, was something every Commorrite learned to fear. Only the insane didn't fear the Mandrakes, and Visarys was definitely not insane. Meddling with their realms was to invite death.

But the idea appealed to Visarys. Travelling the streets of Commorragh would be dangerous to understate the matter, anybody outside could be an informant for the Kabal, they would report seeing an Impassioned in the district and Visarys would likely have to hack and slice his way out. The shadows would be dangerous, but there... nobody cared what Kabal he was pretending to be. And if he could enlist the aid of Mandrakes in his scheme, it would greatly raise the odds of success.

"Shadows?" Visarys considered. This was a risk. But this entire scheme was a big risk. And Visarys loved nothing better than taking a risk.

"Agreed Zasht. Let us travel by shadows then."


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## komanko

Magnificent, it was magnificent. He knew that his attack would succeed when he glanced at the eyes of the beast. They were full of predatory lust, all but focused on a single targeted unaware of its surroundings. As the beast sped up so did Thal, his swords held firmly in his long fingered hands. 

The beast leapt and so did he. Swords striking, thurst into the beasts flesh, rending and tearing through it with brutal ease. A howl parted from the things lips as its life essence departed from the body. The blood splattered against Thal's armor, it was dark and warm yet invisible on Thal's dark red chest piece. 

He twisted the blade as it cut through the beast, he could hear its soul moan from the pain as its body was being torn apart by vicious swords. With a final swing the serrated blade tore through the back of the beast and the smooth edged one through the belly successfully separating the beast into two parts. 

The crowd roared in excitement, was it because of Thal's doing? It did not matter, this battle was a test for his skill and he would take pleasure in it as if it was the most important battle in his life. 

He landed perfectly, left leg first supporting his body. Right leg after the left balancing it. He quickly turned around and saw the remains of the beast flying towards Tyaer'r who quickly leapt aside. A clean kill, a beautiful one. Thal could have sworn that he heard the soul of the mindless beast moan in pain as the remains of life scattered away from the dead body. 

From the side he could see the trio of warriors working together again though it was different this time. Each one of them wanted glory and thus the team work was lacking. Still, they successfully eliminated another of the beasts although some of them did not seem to happy with the turn of events. Each wanted the spotlight, each arrogantly thought that he deserves it. 

A moment later something rather surprising happened. Xexrah, one of the warriors fell. He died under the claws of the mighty beast as his own ability failed him. Good, the weak weeds will only make the structure less powerful. They maybe needed those for cannon fodder but there still was plenty of them. It was good, soon their squad would have no week seeds and than they shall function truly. 

After the beast parted the warrior's head from its body, and after it rended him with its claws and jaws, only than did the trio interfered quickly gunning down the beast. To Thal it was an obvious sign of treachery and deceit even if it was used to weed out the weak. Those three could not be trusted. He shook his head, his hair dangling behind him. He looked around and narrowed his eyes in hate when he saw that Elammakail was still alive, why couldn't that bastard die?! 

It did not matter, they had far greater concerns right now. They still had enemies to kill. He was quickly torn away from the thoughts of hate when he heard the sweet and calm voice of Tyaer'r. She approached slowly, her face blank, not letting a single emotion out. A mask of stone. 

She spoke, complimenting his timely intervention yet pointing out that he could strike earlier. She said so with a smile and thus Thal replied not entirely seriously, *"But if I would've interfered earlier you wouldn't have had to run around, whats the fun in that?*" He said and laughed a quick laugh. 

He saw how she looked around and judged the progress of the "squad", she than quickly turned back and said that they should keep up with the others as some already killed more than one beast. Before Thal had time to reply she drew her splinter rifle and began shooting at the last beast. The shots were slow, giving up the speed of the splinter rifle in order to shoot more precisely. It would probably get the attention of the beast. 

Though Tyaer'r already chose her prey Thal was unsure of how to continue, he could help her and possibly stealing her kill or he could split from her and go after the beastmaster on the hoverboard. It was a good question, the beastmaster was quite high so it wont be easy to reach him, he was actually probably unreachable with a melee weapon. 

As he thought he saw how Talic, the one with the soulstone was aiming at the beastmaster as well. The soulstone clearly empowered him, Thal did not appreciate hit, true warriors did not need any sort of help to deal with pests like that. He spat on the ground, disgusted by the lack of true skill. No warrior who relied on outside help could reach the perfect battle skill that Thal was aiming for, only the long way would prove to be useful in the end... 

He took out his rifle and targeted at the beastmaster's hoverboard. He shot several shots towards it not caring if they will reach it or not, hopefully he would destroy something valuable in the hoverboard and the bastard would come crashing down or even better, maybe the other warrior would get hit in the process. He quickly turned around and unleashed a volley at the beast which Tyaer'r was shooting hoping to maim it before it would attack anyone. Not looking where the shots will land he holstered his rifle again and took out his swords, he readied himself for the beasts attack if it will attack. He will use defensive tactics, preventing it from damaging him just to let Tyaer'r finish it off. 

It would hopefully prove useful for him and make her trust him more.


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## unxpekted22

Talic, Elammkail, Tyaer'r, Thal, Nemele, Tormen:


Tormen duals with the beast, dodging and counter attacking, though he seems perpetually one or more steps behind the beast's speed and ferocious instincts. Ultimately it is the careful firing of Tyaer'r that slows the Khymera bit by bit until Tormen is able to finish it off.

Talic leaps toward the beastmaster and does in fact make it to the board, drawing an awed response from the crowd. A volley of splinter rifle rounds whiz past, but make not hits on whatever the intended target was.

The skyboard spins out of control in an instant, not meant to bear the odd sided weight of a second person hanging on. As the skyboard crashes into the ground the beastmaster leaps off with a well placed side kick to Talic's gut...who is pushed back, but merely a second later is charging the beatsmaster as if he hadnt even felt it. Just before Talic makes the move to cut the opponent's hand off the Archite makes herself known, silencing the crowd and unfurling from her throne.

"_Stop!...The beastmaster is one of the Cult of Acrimony, and so it is the cult who shall punish him for his failings...but he is needed alive. This round is completed...let the final test begin."_

Her beautiful voice echoes throughout the arena from fine crafted amplification built into her viewing box.

Opposite the arena once again, beyond where the large hulk of the dead Ork still lay, the now familiar sound of opening gates fills the arena.

Talic, whether you want to or not, decide to let the beastmaster go and he returns himself, exiting the arena through the gate from which he entered.

Two figures emerge. It is clear they are human, but not the normal kind. These are the kinds of humans who actually present something significant. None of you have seen one before, but you know these must be what the Imperium call "Astartes". Super humans, roughly eight feet tall, bred for war and nothing else.

There is no telling how old these marines are, but they are bristling with muscle beneath their armor, which fortunately for you all, is not power armor. They instead have carapace-like armor and interestingly no weapons that you can see.

One has cropped blond hair, a deep dimple on one side with scarred cheeks to blend. An uplifted nose as if forever looking down in arrogance.

The other has a clean shaven head, two dark metal studs above his left brow. He looks older than the other but not by much, though from what you have learned about space marines this could be anywhere from a 10 to 50 years difference, possibly even more.

The blond haired one yells out as they both walk forward, _*"You grant us more of your own filthy species to kill in the name of the Emperor!? Glory be His name!"*_ His voice booming, his arms held wide with open hands.

Everyone here, describe your next actions. Lets get more character interaction and/or inner thoughts please so we can start making this RP interesting. Get some color between the lines or some such, figuratively speaking. If you would like any help or have any questions, then as always please feel free to ask. Send me a PM or post in the recruitment thread.

Visarys:

Zasht seems to sigh, almost, but says, "As you wish then."

You dont even see it, really, part of him comes towards you but your vision is immediately blurred and filled with black and purple shades. Soon the world around you is spinning incoherently as if it is sliding in multiple directions at once.

Suddenly, your armored knee caps slam into a hard surface as you begin vomiting...even your eldar physique unable to hold completely together from such a transition. You stand wobbly. Zasht standing calmly a few feet away from you watching, with the impassioned warrior draped over his shoulder.

The constant ebb and flow of green shaded flares keep this realm lit as you look around you. Portal like occurrences in countless, seemingly random location. You begin to walk aimlessly, and notice the odd seeping of reality where it meets the shadows. The corner of a room here, the edge of a dark street there, people's shadows moving along the ground but you cannot see who they belong to, and they cannot see you. 

_"I know that we can get there from within this realm,"_ says Zasht, _"but this place is always changing. memorizing the paths is useless. This is why the order of the mandrakes must spend so much time within. They do not memorize passage ways here as we memorize the paths of the webway out there. They must learn to navigate in a different manner, how to follow the shadows to find their destination rather than simply knowing where it is. I have never used this realm to locate the Impassioned Spire in any case, as I have never had reason to do so. Any ideas on where to start, Visarys?"_

You dont necessarily have to have an answer on where to start, you can say that you dont. But if you do have any idea go for it and maybe it will lead to something. Anyway, this post is also about first impressions of this place as well as any questions Visarys may wish to ask. I figured I'd wait to see what he wants to know before I go and try covering every possible question.

Razyel:

As soon as the hellion body is in the hands of your Sybarite leader, you watch it fly over the side of the expansive bridge and plummet through the skies of Commorragh. How do you react? Do you tell Trukka to attack?

Tyyrn isnt just standing there looking at you, this update is looking for your immediate reaction. At the very end of my update his arms are just returning to his sides from throwing the hellion over, basically.


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## revan4559

Razyel's pupils widdened in anger and surprise as the sybarite through his captive over the edge of the bridge and down towards the next layer of Commorragh which alomost made Razyel draw his blade and attack the leader of his squad but his mind quickly flickered to the fact he had told Trukka to shoot Tyyrn as soon as he clicked his left fingers but attacking Tyyrn so quickly would be expected...as would waiting for another moment to strike which could give Tyyrn enough time to gather some bodyguards which would make him harder to kill. Ah the decision of kill him now or wait until another oppotunity later on? Well if he is killed now then Razyel could always take Tyyrn's head for his collection along with his Agoniser for his own person use and perhaps even get a promotion from the Archon to be the Sybarite of the squad...So many more oppotunities will open up upon Tyyrn's death.

Watching the Sybarite lower his arms and turn away from his bodyguard Razyel moved his hand to splinter rifles ammo supple and fished out a single needle like sliver from it as he walked calmly over to his Sybarite pushing all his killing intent deep within himself so his 'prey' couldn't sense he was in danger. Once close enough Razyel placed an arm around Tyyrn's shoulder and gently stroked his face with the tips of his slightly clawed gauntleted fingers along with his index finger slightly dragging the poisoned needle to get its venom into Tyyrn's blood stream. "Well that wasn't very nice now was it? We could of had some fun with him if you had told me you planned on killing him, that i wouldn't of minded by throwing him off of the edge was just a waste." Razyel then backed off before Tyyrn decided he had enough of the dark eldar being close and Razyel tilted his head slightly as he stepped away to see if the reaction to the paralytic venom had started to work on his sybarite. He knew it was working on himself to a lesser extent as some of the venom residue had gotten through the cloth inbetween his armoured finger joints as was making his right hand so slightly numb.

Having finally had enough of allowing Tyyrn to breath Razyel turned away from his 'leader' and headed back to his three bodyguard and took up a position behind the other two(cant remember their names) before clicking the fingers on his left hand to let Trukka know it was time to kill the Sybarite. Razyel was pleased to hear the loud crack of a bolt pistol being fired and poked his head over the shoulder of one of his bodyguard to see if the Sybarite was still standing or if the venom hadn't takened affect and if that was the case he would most likely have to kill Tyyrn the old fashioned way.(Pretty much up to you if Tyyrn got shot or if the poisoned worked. If you want it to be my choice then pm me and i can edit this.)


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## Serpion5

*Nemele*

Nemele watched with amusement as the beastmaster was laid low by her fellow kabalite. The disappointment of not being able to witness his demise was soon supplanted by the anticipation of the final challenge. As the archite announced the final test. Nemeles finger wavered above the trigger of her rifle as she listened and watched intently. She could smell nothing beyond the fetid stench of the dead ork and her mouth was filled with the taste of her own blood. She did not even remember biting her own tongue, but it would not surprise her to know she`d done it subconsciously simply to taste blood. 

As the two new figures emerged, Nemele was momentarily taken aback by their sheer stature. They were human, they had to be but no human she`d ever seen was that... huge. 

One of the massive warriors shouted out a benediction to his own god and seemed to look upon them with relish. The tone of his speech and the nature of what he said implied that he had been here for some time and had bested many of her kin before now. This alone quelled all sense of arrogance within Nemele. No, she would not be simply another fool who rushed headlong into Death`s embrace, she would be remembered as one who triumphed! Her wits would server here better than her combative skills alone. 

She began to inch to the left slowly, brushing past Elammakil and whispering so that only he could here. 

'By the size of them, I believe these are the human astartes warriors. If this is the case, our splinter rifles won`t work as effectively as they should.' She paused for a moment before continuing. 'I believe this will be a matter of landing the killing below when they are distracted. Should we wait for the others to draw their focus or do you think we can take one of them ourselves?'


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## unxpekted22

I am sad to say that I will be discontinuing this RP. I know a couple of you are still interested but I am afraid that is just not enough. Its been four to five months I think and we havnt even been able to make it past the first set of major events, so in my opinion that makes this a dead RPthread. 

Here's to being able to say I gave an alien/xeno race RP a shot as people were supposedly craving for. Can't expect to win 'em all I suppose. cheers.:drinks:


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## BlackApostleVilhelm

emperor be damned! i had a post all worked up too  oh well, looks like ill be shelving Talic for now, im sure ill be using him again though :biggrin:


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## komanko

Oh, shame... Though I haven't really posted as much as I wished to I think its st ill a shame that this RP will be going down. So much unused potential...

Well, cheers and hopefully we will see more interesting stuff from you soon


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## Lord of the Night

That's a shame, would have liked to see how it went for Visarys. Looking forward to your next work Unx.


Lord of the Night


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## Serpion5

Damn! :shout:


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