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Damn it, thought Izziath. She's getting away, and all because of those pesky assassins. For the moment, he would have to ignore the games and find a way to get into contact with either of the Archons within the tent. He quickly made his way down to where several Reaver bikes were parked, when an odd idea struck him...
"I'm sure the Lady Archon would be most appreciative to the assassin's killer..." he thought aloud. Normally, he wouldn't busy himself in the various powerplays of the competing Archons and their backstabbing games, but should he take the risk...
He pulled out a small syringe filled with a clear liquid from one of his skin pouches. He pulled up his sleeve to reveal a small port-like object protruding from his forearm. The needle fit perfectly inside the port, and injected the substance into the Haemonculus' bloodstream. Izziath then began his trip back up to the arena. He could feel his senses heightening, and he could see not only in sight, but in sound and smell and taste. Pulling out the shard that hit him, he began to sniff and lick at the shattered round. Toxins, crystal, bit of metal and leftover voltage from the discharge of the weapon...
He found what he was looking for, and took off to a sprint. Izziath hoped one of the assassins had a god to show mercy on their soul, for he most certainly would not.

People ran past Sitza's door, clamoring over the assassins going after that Archon. He slithered out into the hall and immediately saw a group of Black Heart warriors calming people and returning them to their seats. When the temporary disturbance died down, Sitza followed them. They went up the stairs to a secluded watching area.
And the rich lived in embellishment while the poor toiled in squalor until the Equalist came Sitza thought. It was a quote from the prophecy his father had written in the seconds before he was found. Sitza quoted it often, and fully believed himself to be that Equalist. He aimed his two of his shardcarbines at them and let fly. Three died in the initial barrage and the remaining two were slashed to pieces by his venom blades before they left their seats. Without a word, Sitza slipped back down and went to his room.

In a room deep within the Tower of Flesh a strange creature with flesh like that of wood, and an eerie blue glow stood hunched over a living operating table, heavilly scarred flesh stretched over living bone, supporting the pain wracked form of some poor being that had crossed the Coven of the Thirteen Scars.
Presented as a gift to the visiting haemonculi that stood above it, her 3 hands moved with slow precision, savouring each cut of tormented flesh, every delicious twinge of tortured nerves as she rearranged its insides to suit her own twisted design.
Finally finding the work to her satisfaction, the Haemonculi set down her tools, drawing a heavy metal syringe from her pack she slides the needle directly into her victims heart, injecting the thick, golden liquid into its blood stream. Stepping back as the helpless patient began to contort and scream, spasms shuddering through its body as bone and muscle began to change.

Even though she'd watched this process a thousand, thousand times or more she still found the transition delightfully intoxicating, the skull elongating and thinning out, brain shrinking and arms and legs lengthened, teeth merging and forming into vicous fangs. As the creatures vocal chords lengthened and screams turned to squeels she thought on why she'd returned to the dark city. The last time she'd been in Commoragh was centuries ago, that time was purely for a vendetta, hunting down a member of her own coven that had thought they could steal her secrets to sell in the dark city.
That particular transgressor had been introduced to her otherself, the trees that bore her conciousness, a living forest at the heart of her flagship the Predicatbale. It now wore the skin of that traitor on its branches, sustaining his brain in complete sensory deprevation among its roots.
This time she'd come to Commoragh to find new technologies, learn new technique developed in the last centuries, and to capture a selection of the Mandrake beasts to blend into her Grotesques.
While lost in her thoughts, her memories, and the intoxicating pain eminating from her victim as it completed its transformation into the half-rat minion she'd created, she casually reached forward, ripping out the ratbeasts eye, popping it into her mouth as she turned to leave for the streets, maybe the bone middens to see what she could find, Drychera, master of the Coven of the Plagued Rat bit down.

The other assassin was on a reaver, moving in. He couldn't let him get away with interfering with the mission. Lowering the scope from his eyes, Cydre rapidly disasembles the long barreled rifle, putting it inside a small case, before stepping backwards into the shadows, duel huskblades drawn and ready. He would decimate the fool.

Crax arrived at the roof top, razor flail and electrcorrosive whip in hand. He was going to cause this killer immense pain. Crax walked, listening, when the killer made a mistake, stepping on an object making a crack. Crax turned around, catching his duel huskblades in his razorflail lashing out with his whip, hitting him in the ribs. The assassin fell to the ground, paralyzed.

Crax got close to his face whispering, " I'd kill you now, but I feel whoever contacted you for this kill will be less kind than me."

With that Crax mounted his Reaver and flew off, needing to talk to Bumar.

Damned assassin. He would pay. He harboured a special hatred for those who interfere in his jobs. Getting up with a breif spasm, Cydre walks over to his custom skyboard, outfitted with perfectly lethal long-ranged weaponry, and steps onto it, his midnight lack armour lit up with a deep red glow from its various lights. The high-tech board hovers slightly into the air, emmiting a low whirring. With a chuckle he gives chase.

Crax was riding off, shaking off the anger. But he didn't need to worry, he had a plan and three women at home. That lightned his heart up, it made it go from black to very dark grey. He heard a whizzing behind him, turning his head to watch a rocket collide with his jetbike. The back of the vehicle on fire and missing he started to crash. He was fast approaching a building, jumping off the bike. He made it through a window above the explosion. The explosion tore through the floor below Crax. He turned away from the fire, his armor protecting him from burns. Well, he was alive wounded but nothing some drugs couldn't fix, but he had no vehicle. Great.

" Well, at least he thinks I was in that," says Crax spitting blood out his mouth. " But I'll find him, and kill him."

The other assassin had been a fool, and now he had died for his error. He was a famed killer for a reason, thought Cydre, staring with satifaction at the wrecked floor of the building. With a laugh, he turns on his skyboard back in the opposite direction, away from the explosion and decimated assassin. Now he would head for his target. And this time, no interruptions.

Drychera looked up, drawn from her thoughts by the sound of an explosion ripping through a nearby building.

She decided to find out what was going on. Maybe there was someone there she could... help.

Crax knew he had to leave. That explosion no doubt would draw attention. He wasn't worried about the mercenary either. He knew he wasn't going to get the kill. Her Incubi would be guarding her like a hawk. With a limp Crax got up and walked to the roof of the building, finding the vehicle dock. Taking a vehicle from the dock, Crax raced home. He met no other problems on the way, and walked in the door. He was met with a greeting and was sat down to be taken care of.

*Still falling, hint hint*

Izziath reached the top of the circular walls of the Colliseum. He had lost the quarry he was searching for. Even with his heightened senses working overtime, it was very difficult to keep track of the scent he found on the crystal shard. He was about to abort the hunt when two things occurred. The first was an explosion nearby. It looked to be near by, at one of the complexes. The second was what appeared to be a Hellion rider taking a U-turn and taking off away from the explosion. It was the second he took note of, if only for the... scent. (That's you, Robotlol, btw)
He found him! It didn't matter that the rider was escaping, Izziath was for certain he would find him again soon enough. Then, when he was under the Haemonculus' custody, he would present the assassin to the Queen of Thorns, and perhaps partake in finding a strong patron to finance his experiments.
Looking to one of his Wracks, he gave a quick nod and a quick gesture. The masked servant nodded, and then took off in the direction of the Hellion rider, taking caution to keep in the shadows.

Vandir would have screamed as he fell, but that would only have distracted him from his goal. The Archon had gone, and he needed to find another lead - and something to keep him from breaking his spine when he hit the floor. He was freefalling in a controlled manner, but the ground was quickly rushing up to meet him. he was still falling close to the wall of the Colosseum, and was tempted to try and stop using the wall and his klaive. But that would only damage the weapon. The ground was really close now, only a few metres. He would try to roll. But it never happened. Something ran out from the arena before he hit the floor, just below him. With a sickening crack, the Incubus warsuit and Astartes power armour collided, sending both tumbling to the ground.

Vandir looked at his accidental saviour, who was busy picking himself up off the ground. He decided not to stick around; there appeared to be several others on her tail, his visor scan barely picking up a wrack setting off in pursuit of the others. Vandir darted away after it. He might well fight the astartes, but not now. There were more important things to deal with. Before the Black Templar could react, Vandir was gone.

"Very dissapointing, for an Archon to leave in the middle of such a wonderful display." called Kitheil dryly "My prayers for your safe return, Lady Antilis"

Antilis didn't turn, grinding her teeth with rage she stormed from the observation deck, Ynglinga close behind, towering over her. Damn that intolerable dried out toad, she thought. Departing from the games so early would surely be seen as an insult by some, but she had too much to lose if she was taken out by a lowly assassin. In a moment of beautiful irony, a poison tipped shard struck her chest, exploding and disapating over her protective shields. Ynglinga's heavy gauntlet grabbed her sholder her shoved her into the raider, he turned and nodded at the Steersmen, who turned the boat away from anchorage.

"It would be unwise to leave the games now, my Archon. It could be seen as a sign of weakness." rumbled Ynglinga solemnly, resting his hands lightly on his immense power klaive. Ynglinga 's stance remained unchanged even with the swaying motions of the raider.

Antilis desperatly wanted to depart for the fortress of thrones, but knew that Ynglingas advice was right. An Archon had to be bold and brave, or at least appear so.

"I won't flee from this wretched assassins, bring me my weapons so I might bring them down." she said after some time.

A ragged cheer rose from her entourage, mostly un-armed nobles and faveourite slaves.

"Very well, my Archon." replied Ynglinga, hefting his klaive upon his sholder. He signaled to the steersman to bring the ship back around.

"Contact the Kabal, have them look scour this cursed stadium and bring me the would-be assassins heads!" she said, while standing proudly abourd the raider, much to the appeasement of her enoutourage.

Drazill looked on as all hell broke loose, much of the crowd it seemed, were now trying to kill each other, all wanting a hand on the rize. She noticed a figure on a bike go down somewhere in the city, and watched with amusement as the other assins tried to kill each other. From her vantage point she could still see the raider, one look through her scope and she saw the archon had been hit, by who or what she couldn't tell. Suddenly the scope went black as another figure steped infront of the queen. Quickly deciding to disable the craftt, she squeezed the trigger of her shredder and sent forth it's deadly cargo towards the steersman.

Izziath could see there was very little time to get to his current objective. Shots were heard, one round hitting the personal shield of the Queen, soon after another finding its way into the Helmsman. The latter flinched, then he clutched at his chest as the various poisons coursed through his body before crumpling to the Raider's floor. For a few seconds, the crew panicked as they tried to spring back from this setback. The floating vehicle keeled dangerously to the right before another crew member took command of the steering and righted her back.
He was going to need more aid if he was to "save" Lady Antilis from this current predicament. He slid one of his sleeves back to reveal a transmitter directly implanted into his arm and clicked it. Then, he leapt from the wall of the Colliseum to one of the nearby buildings. He barely cleared the rooftop, and paused for a moment to savor the thrill of getting into the hunt proper. He wouldn't need to kill the new assassin, merely halt them from completing their mission.

"Turn us around! Bring us out of sight!!" screamed Antilis, grabbing hold of a hand rail. Even Ynglinga had to steady his tall frame against the violent buckling caused by the steersmans sudden demise. The raider was plummeting to the ground far below, Ynglinga grabbed hold of the oar, and managed to at crash the raider into a nearby glass window. Tumbling out of the raider they found themselves surrounded.

Wretched Toothless slaves stared up at her in contempt, dozens of them, starved of light and food for decades, their skin was soft and pale even compared to the eldar. Ynglinga hefted his powerful blade onto his sholder, this alone was enough of a warning for the slaves, who cowered into the darkness.

"Ynglinga, bring me to my fortress" moaned Antilis.

"At once, my Archon" he rumbled with a voice like thunder.

Drazill hurridly reloaded and shot again, before the raider left her sight, unfortunatly for her the shot missed the raider by a fair bit, partly due to the raiders erratic course and partly because, just as she pulled the trigger, out of the corner of her eye she saw a figure leap onto a nearby building.

without hesitation she grabbed her gun and made for the door, pondering which way to go.

Suddenly, everything happened at once. The Raider went down, shots punched through the air, the world around Vandir screaming with intense ferocity. It was just like war, but Vandir was used to experiencing it from the heightened view of a Raider. Still, he could operate effectively enough on the ground. The Wrack has disappeared in the turmoil, but that didn't matter. All Vandir had to do was find the Raider, and make sure the Queen stayed alive. Then Xiaril would pay.
Vandir followed the smoke that was now plooming out of the windows of the Raider's crash site. His eyes scanned the surrounding area like a hawk's; no other would deny him his prize - at least a talk with this Archon, if not her service. Vandir strode quickly towards the crash site.

There's one, I bet Izziath could see a figure walk towards the downed Raider. In the confusion, he couldn't really see where the shot had come from, as he was too busy jumping from one building to another. He could only assume that either this was the assassin trying to finish the job or some really unlucky bystander who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way, Izziath would have a bit of fun with him. It had been awhile since a Dark Eldar was on his slab...
He readied his weapons and slipped into shadows, ready to strike at this new element.

Mekboy Zogrob was, as usually, busy assambling weapons as his usual task as slave. While most of his Orkkin were sended to the arenas, Zogrob got stuck here, building guns. He didn't find it too bad a job. Wel, it were ofcourse dull and small guns, but still. It were guns. There were all kind of species around him assambling exactly the same things. No Orks though. When one of the overseers looked away, probably to punish one of the slaves not working hard enough, Zogrob put some bits and pieces in one of his pockets. For his project. Heh.

A while later, he managed to sneak off. His gun was nearly ready for use. He just needed some ammo. When he turned around, an overseer stood there, readying his weapon. Using his gun a an improvised club, Zogrob smashed the weak thing's head. He grabbed the sword from the body of the Dark Eldar, as did he grab some ammo. He was ready to have some fun.

The raider was in flames, as was a good deal of the building it had crashed into. The Archon and her retinue strode from the scene with a gleam in their eye and an unmistakable lust for battle. But battle was nothing of Vandir's concern, not now. Perhaps too hastily, Vandir hailed and approached the Archon, preparing himself for whatever might happen next...

having run down to a lower floor, Drazzil could see the firery wreckage of the downed raider. She quickly bent down and opened her case, taking out the pieces of her gun and slotting them together, keeping an eye on the figures around the wreckage.