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6/19/2016 3:12:50 PM
103
In one of the many dark rooms of the Bloodwrath, a Black Templar stirs from his slumber, his eyes flying open behind his visor.
He got up to up with a groan, his breath rugged, and the mother of all headaches raging around in his head. Shit was bad.
He groans again as he feels the familiar weight of his Bolter, dangling on his right hand via a Devotion Chain.
I was on a mission before I woke up... That's one thing I know at least...
The man thought to himself, his blue eyes scanning his surroundings from the inside of his helmet. He jerked his right arm up, pulling his Bolter with him, and into the air. He then blindly catched the grip, and firmly grasped it.
The man shakes his head, the headache making it hard for him to think coherently, his thoughts hazy, his legs heavy.
"I got fücked up... Shouldn't I have a squad? Where the fück are they? No matter... Just gotta get to civilization, if that's even a thing in here... Where the fück am I even..."
He says to himself with a rough voice, his words given a metallic accent by his helmet.
He started walking through the darkness, the soft grinding of gears and other metal things coming from his left arm as it shifted underneath his armour, his left hand soon twirling and shifting, before folding into his arms, only for a Chainsword to slide out, it softly growling as the teeth slowly spun.
He then froze up as he heard some shuffling in the darkness, his eyes shooting over to the origin of the sound; a lonesome Chaos Marine, armed with nothing but a Chainsword. He didn't bother to check what Chapter, but instead just charged at the Chaos Scum, his Chainsword roaring as he yelled,
"FOR THE EMPEROR!"
And raised his Chainsword, the Chaos Marine having an "oh fück me" moment as he saw the Black Templar leap at him, the Chainsword arm already descending.
Then, nothing. He wasn't even able to react in time.
Blood flew everywhere as the Black Templar's Chainsword sank into the Chaos Marine's head, tearing it in half within seconds. He then pulled the Chainsword out, and in one swift motion, decapitated the lifeless corpse, the head splitting in half now that it was no longer held together by the throat.
"Unclean Scum."
He says nothing else, and just turns on his heels, walking away from the corpse as his Chainsword goes back to growling silently.
[spoiler]Open.
Short post, yaya. Still have writer's block. Shut up.[/spoiler]
[spoiler]-blam!- you Shad. [/spoiler]
English
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It didn't take a long trek through the unfamiliar darkness of the tainted hallways before the Templar stumbled across another figure. Though unfamiliar, this one was not of chaos or disgust or desertion. It was... smaller, that the previous figure the Templar had previously yet justly slain. Far smaller in fact, and more frail, more slender even. It was a woman, lying down on her side, seemingly splayed out over the arcane flooring of the corridor as if practically thrown there like garbage. Her figure was fully garbed in robes and runic armour of deep black and weathered white, a pallet matching the black Templar's own protective attire, the cloth strewn over her in a messy disorganised fashion. She was breathing but unresponsive. Unconscious, clearly. But she didn't look injured, and there was no sign of any previous struggle; no blood, no puncture, no tears, no scratches, nothing. The dull throbbing lights that emitted from deep red stones embedded into her runic armour and helmet only confirmed the Templar's suspicions: Eldar. Craftworld Eldar, to be more precise. Most likely.
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The man stops, and pauses, his first thought being, [i]PURGEPURGEPURGEPURGE[/i] But for some reason, he ignored those thoughts, and crouched down at the woman's side, his blue eyes swiftly scanning the darkness around them for any potential threats. Once he had decided there were none, he looked back at the woman, his left hand clicking and shifting back into a hand. He rolled the woman onto her back, and slid his left hand under her back, and his right hand along with the Bolter, underneath her legs, behind the knees. He then hoisted her up, standing up right with a soft groan. "I could get flayed alive for doing this..." He says to himself, as if he was trying to convince himself to just purge. Only, he couldn't. Because I'm the writer and a heretic. So yeah. He shook his head to himself and the purgy-y thoughts, and resumed his walk, now with a woman in his arms, whom he was carrying bridal style.
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Edited by Moot: 6/20/2016 11:49:29 AMThe woman's head was tilted back in the templar's arms, as if gazing up at the ceiling through the tinted crimson of her helmet visor. The vast tail of deep red hair connected to the crown of her helmet draped down towards the floor, swaying back and forth like weeping willow branches as she was carried along. It wasn't clear under the invasive noises of the marine's booming footsteps or his metallic armour plating clanging against itself, but the warlock seemed to be murmuring something, using the faintest of light breathes.
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He just barely notices, making him stop, the booming sounds of his footsteps, along with the clanking of his armour going silent. He also pulled the woman a bit closer to him, moving his head closer to her mouth. He was actually doing his best to listen. It surprised him how he was acting with her. Any other Black Templar would've purged her, but he didn't. He even picked her up, and carried her with him in his attempt at finding civilization. How... kind, really. Kind and strange.
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The murmuring continued, becoming more refined with each slow breath. Soon enough it just about became clear enough to understand her. "... wh... where... where am..." The seer seemed to be shifting in and out of consciousness in a random erratic fashion. Any causes for her troubling behaviour were not visibly discernable.
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He takes a deep breath, thinking of a reply. He eventually responds with a silent whisper, "In the arms of an angel, carrying to safety..." He grins, not really worrying about her unconscious condition. She was most likely fine, just a bit... tired or something. Either way, the Black Templar wasn't too worried.
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Edited by Moot: 6/20/2016 3:13:04 PMHer breaths seemed to cut off pause for a moment, as if she had just frozen still. "... The angels died a long time ago - human!" Without the slightest of warnings, the warlock sprung to life and pressed her feet against the black templar's chest plate, pushing herself off with a synergy of grace and unfounded strength, leaping straight out of his reach. Her figure seemed to almost glide towards the floor a fair few metres before the templar, her runic robes writhing in a flurry of black and white. She unsheathed her witchblade and held it before herself in a defensive position, its arcane blade sparking and shimmering blue at the touch of her hands against the hilt. "Who in Isha's name are you?! Where is this, what is this place, why am I here?! Tell me!" Her voice was angry and seemed to echo within the templar's ears, like she was shouting at him through a spinning fan; a classic trait of Eldar vocals.
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The Templar skids back a little bit as the woman uses his chest as a launch pad, an annoyed groan coming from him. He, for some strange reason, wasn't aiming his gun at her, even though he probably should be. Instead, the metal death machine hung limply at his side. "Names Skatai Neotar. Black Templar. I have no fücking clue where you are or how you got here. Nor do I know what this place is. I kinda just woke up. Maybe around... Half an hour to an hour ago." He let his Bolter go, it now just dangling on a chain, leading form the bottom of the grip to his fist. "Found you passed out on the ground by the way, so if I wanted to cause any harm, I would've done it then and there."
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At first, the seer was doubtful. She had no clue where she was, nor why she was there, and she was now facing off with an alien of whom she had been taught were nothing but misguided, naïve, and violent all her life. The scent of chaos filled the air like a stench; an all-too-familiar disgust to a member of Ulthwé. But, after collecting her thoughts for a brief moment, she began to calm. This man, while a total stranger to her and easily the most dangerous thing to be near right now, was also confused and lost much like her. She could see it stained on his soul; the confusion, the hatred for heresy, the lust to please his higher power, and the truth of his most recent words. Huh. He had a soul. Well, perhaps he's capable of reasoning after all then. The warlock lowered her witchblade, but kept it unsheathed just in case one of the more deadly potential futures she just witness came to be. "... Black templar, huh? A fellow nomad at least, and one who appears capable of self defense. Intriguing..."
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Edited by CPU Purple-Heart: 6/20/2016 4:01:58 PMThe man jerks his right hand up, the sudden movement yanking the chain and his Bolter up. He then catched the Bolter's grip, tightly holding it in his right hand, though he kept it pointed at the ground, with his finger off the trigger. "So... If you don't mind sharing... who are you?" He asked with a curious undertone as he peered to where the woman's eyes would be while his left hand emitted a series of short clicks, the hand itself, once again, folding back into the arm, swiftly getting getting replaced by a slowly spinning Chainsword. A Chainsword whose teeth were covered in a thin layer of blood.
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Edited by Moot: 6/20/2016 4:07:20 PMThe woman didn't seem phased by Skatai's new display of power or danger. If she was expressing anything, it was firmly hidden beneath her helmet. Nonetheless, the warlock's grip on her witchblade tightened. [i]let's see, now what do we do here? No, I die if I do that... maybe, he'll die if I do that... hmm, we both die there. A fair trade, but one I'm not willing to commit so early on... c'mon there has to be some alternatives... perhaps... ugh, just say it. It'll at lest give you 20 more second of assured life before another skein gaze is needed.[/i] "Kolandra. My name is Kolandra, Eldar of Ulthwé, as you no doubt have already recognised" For a fleeting moment she almost seemed to giggle straight after.
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The stare wasn't really a display of power or danger, but more one if curiosity. And how he grabbed his Bolter was just a mere act of safety, same goes for his left arm turning into a Chainsword. Imagine if they were attacked while he was practically unarmed. Although I guess Space Marines are never truly unarmed; they'll still have their fists. "Kolandra, eh? Interesting name... I like it. Rolls off the tongue very nicely... Kolandrrrrraaa..." He experimentally extends the 'R', much like a purr. It was in no way meant to offend; he even seemed to be rather innocent.
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Kolandra wasn't particular impressed at the templar's response, but what did she expect? Regardless, it only added to her confusion. "Please don't do that, I'm sure both of us are teetering on the edge of snapping with each other already and I'd rather not get anymore disturbed than I already--" Kolandra's ears pricked. She could hear something. Some [i]things[/i], more like. They sounded like... voices. No. Screams. Wailing. Shouting. Mad cries. So very distant and quiet, yet haunting as the devil herself. "... what is this place? At first I would have perceived it to be the black library. But, you're here, so definitely not the black library then"
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"I presume it to be a very large ship, and considering the amount of bad stuff is in here... I'm gonna go a wild guess... Bloodwrath? Maybe... Either way, this place is rather bad, especially here, with those screams in the distance. We should get moving. Maybe we can find some sort of civilization, and continue our conversation in moderate safety." The man turned away from the Eldar, his weapons still at his sides. He patiently waited for what the Eldar woman would do; either go her own rout, or join him. He secretly hoped that it was the latter since he enjoyed her company.
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Peering over her shoulder down the haunting hallway behind her, Kolandra pondered her options for a moment before finally submitting and deciding to stick near Skatai. If he was going to attack her, he at least didn't seem utterly intent on it. [i]just... stay calm, and stay collected. You know how to fend for yourself, you've trained for it, down two entirely different paths even. And stop being soo paranoid... no, actually, be paranoid. Be as paranoid as you can be. You have no idea what else is on board thi-- wait, did he say 'Bloodwrath'?[/i] "The Bloodwrath is a myth, nothing more than a story to scare disobedient children at night. No nation would truly be foolish enough to allow such a vessel to become the plaything of the chaos gods, and sit idly by while they use their new prize to wreak havoc upon us mortals. Impossible" [i]the Bloodwrath isn't a myth, you're just in denial because you know how much danger you're in if you truly are on board. I said be paranoid, but don't let it could your senses.[/i]
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"Sure, sure. I'm just going by instinct. I don't know for sure.." [i]Of course I do. What other ship would be this fücking bad? Besides, I'm pretty sure I've seen the walls move. Ugh. Who knows, maybe I'm just going insane? I mean, who wouldn't go insane in a situation like this? ME. Fück insanity. I'm a damn Black Templar.[/i] "Although, if I'm not wrong... Yeah.. Bad things will happen. Now, let's get going before we're killed or something, yes? Chop chop." The man starts walking forwards, resuming his trek through the dark hallways, albeit slowly; his new... Acquaintance hadn't joined him at his side yet, after all.
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Kolandra thought it best to just walk along behind at this point, keeping the distance between them the same. He had the front, she had the back. Him with his bolter, her with her witchblade. Rather than speak, she just listened. Listened to anything she could; the clang of metal against metal, the distant voices that could be heard, the faint hum of what could be engines, the creaking of ancient struts and supports, the jingling of her runes against spirit stones and robes, the silent flapping of the templar's marks and sigils before her. Anything really. It was all rather peaceful, in an odd contradictory way.
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The very faint growling of his Chainsword was a part of the symphony of noise, the teeth slowly spinning along the blade. "So... I've been a bit curious since I ran into you... What kind of culture do the Eldar have?" The man silently asked, genuinely curious sounding, his pace speeding up a bit now that he was certain that the Eldar was following him.
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Kolandra's eyes narrowed under her helmet. She was admittedly a bit taken aback by the question; it wasn't at all like a black templar to ponder for such knowledge; only inquisitors asked such things. Admittedly she'd never encountered a black templar before now, but he had encountered enough other chapters to know that all space marines ever usually thought about was how to purge heresy or die trying. "For what purpose exaclty? Do you plan to use such knowledge against us once you escape? Or am I supposed to believe that you're simply 'intrigued'?"
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"Truthfully, I'm actually curious for once. This is probably the longest... Casual conversation I've had in a while, so why not try new things like amassing knowledge?" The man said honestly and fairly casually, though he did understand her suspicion. It's not every day that you see a Space Marine wanting to amass knowledge. [spoiler]Yes. I'm a Heretic, I know. [/spoiler]
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While still cautious, Kolandra couldn't help but feel her younger inquisitive self bubble up inside. Even as an Eldar herself, her own society and all its stories it had to tell fascinated her greatly, and she always found a sense of joy from sharing it's eon-old wisdom to younger minds. "Very well, I suppose there isn't much else to do anyway... I'm afraid the answer to your question isn't as simple as you'd probably like; there are many avenues I could talk about. History, lifestyle, ambitions, technology, you name it... what specifically interests you?"
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"Out of all possible choices, I must choose a truly fascinating one; history."
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Edited by Moot: 6/20/2016 6:53:23 PM"wise choice... as the inquisitors know, the Eldar once ruled over an empire that spanned the full length of the galaxy and all it had to offer. The richest of society could have entire star systems forged in their name and valour. It was truly a time of prosperity and miracles, a time where Humanity had barely learned to walk on less than all fours, a time where the gods we sing of today were still alive and well. But, like all great things, it did not last." "The Eldar of this empire thrived on a lifestyle in which every individual attempted to experience as many pleasures as they possibly could in a lifetime. What grew from this was a society in which sadistic and selfish ambition were praised. It was barbaric, yet our race was blind to what we were becoming... well, most of our race. Some Eldar came to realise that our rich society birthed nothing but hatred and a complete lack of love and unity towards one another: every Eldar only lived to satisfy themselves and no one else, not even family." "These Eldar who saw the error of our ways decided to abandon society and go live more peaceful lives upon the maiden worlds that dot the edges of the galaxy. Due to their wisdom and wise choice of leaving society behind, many of those Eldar still live today. They were clever enough to see what we would give rise to..." "Eventually, the cumulative hubris and selfishness of our empire caused a new chaos god to be born within the hellfires of the Warp: Slaanesh, she who thirsts. Her birth caused a monstrous shockwave to ripple through the entire galaxy. It killed billions within a matter of perilous seconds, and ultimately caused our once mighty empire to crumble. The Eldar's collective hate and blindness had ultimately doomed our race. We were responsible for the fall, and the shockwave's might birthed it's own horror: the Eye of Terror." "Of course, some of our race: the Farseers of old, had predicted the birth of Slaanesh long before it truly occurred. These Eldar constructed the many craftworlds within which remnants of our species survived and outran Slaanesh's birthing wrath. My home craftworld of Ulthwé however became caught in the eye of terror as it came into being... now, the craftworld is forever trapped, strong enough to resist falling entirely into the Warp, but not strong enough to truly escape it's fires. As a result, my people battle the invading forces of chaos day and night, for what may be an eternity..."
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The man stays silent as the Eldar tells the tale of her people's history, listening with great interest and curiousity. Once she finished, he took a deep breath, and said, "That was extremely interesting... I'm glad that I ran into you, honestly. Even if you backstab me later down the line; this history lesson was worth it."
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"well, thank you for the interest... and don't worry, I'm not prone to backstabbing unless you're either a Necron or unless I sense you harbouring similarly traitorous thoughts... is there anything else you want to know? It's been quite some time since I was last allowed to speak freely to someone actually willing to listen"
