Deadly Dire Avenger
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Today: Lights over Khalunsurac Mensha are bright with the ships of neighboring fleets and citizens anguished with the maximum populations in spaceports being reached with foreign Kin across the void stars and from the portal gates of the Web-way!
How many cycles spent under the twin moons have we witnessed the shadows of our ancestors inhabit the baleful wastes of Urejedia!? Welcome all who are born in the great citadels of these participating nations, those who are concerned with future prosperity under the eye of the five Craftworlds may discuss their concerns with the attending factions present! The absorption of Exodite settlements and untouched worlds long claimed by our ancestors- Maiden holds- sacrificed to fuel new colonies and hubs of grand civilization for the Eldar race upon expanding Craftworlds! Our crumbling trade routes spanning across the galaxy leaving us at the point of extinction!? The battle over Urejedia and the genocides at the very fringes of our local sectors in the raiding fleets of the Mon-Keigh-a ten thousand year old Human race with the largest planet spanning empire throughout the Galaxy!
The Tri-Gate Alliance between these three nations, Ise-Neyl, Yein-Nasi, Bann-Beldeth: the beginning of Imperial forging and the beginnings leading to the foundation of another Eldar empire amongst the stars!? Leaders of our nobler Counsels from Biel-Tan: In the reign of King Autarch Selrellion Lyshen’ra: First Seer of the Nan-Surneen Xuveisah Isharun, the Isharun House and Seer Warlock of Danyuu-Falchu Cuvesii Ayaurmen, the Ayaumen House! Sectoral Admiral of the Yein-Nasi Defense Armadas over Gate Iciu-Icioce, Maugen-Galragun Desindi Hegorok, the Hegorok House! Autarch Yesara Bequ’ye of the Outcast Recon Forces of Balerathag-Ise-Neyl, The Balerahag Army, Third Spirit Seer Usena Nasuna of Ise-Neyl, The Nasuna House and Puritan Chamber Councils, FarSeer Faldey Sudesa of Ise-Neyl, the Puritan Chamber Councils! Exarch Reikunkor of the warring state Khalunsurac Mensha, the Court of Khalunsurac Mensha…
The announcements were blaring from the micro-bead at Kiria’s chin, amplification sensors covering her ears allowed her to do so in view of recording drones. Warriors and fellow Eldar alike watched her from the conference exchange zone in admiration. The masses were roaring in a wave of vaunted racial slurs and mounting riots with each and every change of the topic.
Mon-Keigh! Rest assured, there will be more discussions and strategies in bombing another hundred planets out of their million fold!
Lann-Lideth’s porcelain features brightened a fraction, curving gently in approval of the profligately dressed attendant at the entrance’s end reciting word from the holo-slate blipping from her wrist. Her wardrobe was a fluid collage of a trio of ominous black and snow colored dresses, the thick sashes tying them into one form enwrapping at her limbs in a series of ruffled strips and bands. It complemented her… youthful obscure demeanor: tiny rune scripts falling beneath either of her hazel eyes, imprinted on the lobes of her sharpened ears, and forming a gloomy pendulum along the pale skin of her cheeks. Lideth simply observed her with a sidelong glance, noticing the tenseness in her poise, exhaust in every wave of her hand while she announced anything upon the slate. Surrounding her were a trio of armored warriors clasped in jet black, towering over her with helmed gazes and bony fingers tightly clutching at the triggers of Shuriken rifles locking her in place. They cast their stares from her, staring at any idle listeners intently for a moment before relaxing slightly at apparent lack of hostility. She could clearly see that some of them were surprised to be aired out in the public this evening, though they carried themselves like her with much respect…
“What is a Banshee and her tending Maidens doing buying her time at a garrison!?” A high rise, elder voice whispered hastily into the drum of her ears, encroaching steps quieting at her curious turn for her to gaze upon a quizzical Outcast, the tip of his nose concealed beneath a press of cloth though his eyes emitted a mounting anger. Flawless matted cloaks hid the armor shielding his lofty form, nothing but large steel grey eyes peering back at her impatiently, though his manner reflected upon the one reading the actual report. Cropped between his clean shaven skull, a weathered white Mohawk towered above four thickly woven braids cupped in small, silver bracers. Holstered over shoulder, a slender long rifle swayed gently from his back, his grip lightly grinding against its sash, listening intently to the silent Banshee standing in the hallway. A wolfish grin rose sharply on his lips, acknowledging her once and gesturing to the errant messenger. “Are you an acquaintance of hers, Kiria?”
“The hall of Inesh is a few turns farther, Vagrant!” Lideth rolled her eyes once in apparent distaste, shying her face from the Elder in a reject full manner. “You should have no business with me!”
“Ah, be wary of insulting your Elders so rudely!” A venomous hiss sparked his tongue once, his long grin stifling at her gallant, pretentious tone that struck like a slap to his chest though he feigned a disheartened smile in spite of his boisterous snort. “What is a Banshee and her tending maidens buying her time at a garrison!?” Quganas studied the confused wench for one moment. “Why are you standing here so frozen, out of my way!?”
Lideth’s lithe form was clasped in a colorless beige armor that curved well with her, a fluttering jade sash falling to her ankles slightly draping the twin mirror swords dangling from her hips. Her noble features were snarling at the near presence of trash, lips frowning harshly and a gauntlet raised to her face to hide her baleful bronze eyes from his own. The other was twiddling long plumes of spiraled curled auburn braids of her hair and she dismissed the homeless fool once with a flick. “Aside from me, homeless drifter! Shamed ones shouldn‘t wander near the Guardian civilians, away from me!”
The four maidens kneeling beside her were dressed in flamboyant, folded robes of ochre and gold stitched with the symbolic marks of Yein-Nasi. Their own expressions mirrored their master, waving away the half dozen shadowed Outcasts aside in blatant disgust. Rune crafted jewelry and black laces hung from the lines of their ornate garments and rings studded along the very edge of their ears.
“Ladies.” A sharp, taunting whistle came from one of the cloaked vagabonds behind the others. A chorus of laughter followed the Outcasts and Quganas lowered his fist, stopping in his tantrum once to stare the women up again.
“Well, never mind!” A sly smirk crossed his frown, his voice quelling to a maddened cheer as he moved to step past them. The Lead Pathfinder easily circled around them, shouldering her aside one step and leaning in to the side of her reciting face. “You must forgive my forceful manner if you wished to breathe another word to me.” The hushed sneer in his tone provoked one of the women kneeling by her side to quickly jolt up, uttering something foul in her own tongue in enraged disbelief at the sudden acquaintance.
“Away, Outcast!” Lideth snorted an arrogant laugh at the fool’s encroaching presence, veering her narrow gaze, lips tensing for one moment before they spat in vehement disrespect.
“Careful, you!” One of the Guardians vented through the slits of his helmet, raising the butt of his long crafted rifle towards the belligerent trekker in warning caution. “Return to your business or proceed to leave.”
Scattered communication alerting variations of Mesh clad statue figures remaining erect amidst the serpentine vases beneath the walkways. Brazen jeers stalked the Guardian’s words from other groups of Outcast merely idling in the way’s path. Gazes from veteran Pathfinders cooled Quganas’ spiking temper, hardened scarred warriors from both genders of the same stature. Wild and overflowing silver hair marked their age and achievements amongst their own circles, alien trophies and exotic equipment flaunted around the corridor for other Aspects to envy. A decent contrast with the far younger rangers who appeared in far fewer numbers. Beginning recruits only now learning a life of adapting survival outside the hubs of civilization to journey the fringes of space. Matted cloaks draped the tribal clothes of the farther Exodite settlements they recruited them from, heads clean shaven save a few locks of hair and outfitted with an array of still impressive gear. Green Auspexes studied the sudden argument without interest, speaking softly between their leaders and other Guardians patrolling the area in light hearted discussion.
Unspoken vigilance from the pairs of Dire Avengers guarding the flanks of the Warlocks and Seers watched the masses moving about the counsel grounds with upheld contentment. Those who lacked helmets were smiling brightly at the activity, the glittering white sashes adorning firmer, sleeker, skin tightened fibro-mesh with a cyan paint and fiery orange soul stones adorning their chest plates casting their youthful faces in a nobler light that rivaled the women from the Howling Banshees in all their royalty. Holo-shields inactivated upon their wrists shielded the bottom of the Shuriken Catapults held upright in their arms, honor blades on their waste in the grips of some preferring to search for any signs of lingering trouble. Tall helmets with the mark of Asurman held long glares across the hall’s end in long hours for even the slightest hint to round the corners toward the Counsel to end them with a flick of a wrist. The Outcasts watched them from their own places in peaked fascination, somewhat impressed in the way they froze in their steadfast firing positions with Catapults leveled for entire shifts of their watch. It was half the reason some were openly smiling, freely trading polite words for complements from bypassers and satisfied superiors; the few with reason enough to look openly proud as they met real legends from the upper spectrums of Eldar society.
Regular troops in the Guardian cores respected them highly, remained erect in great columns amidst the blazing pyres in lax duty. Colors from Ise-Neyl, Yein-Nasi, and Bann-Beldeth were flying in every form in such a claustrophobic space. Banners were flying from the three entrances leading into the political arena, heralding another reunion between Space faring Craftworlds and colonies located across the Galaxy.
The atmosphere lent a presence to the throngs of civilian bystanders weaving into the pressing crowds pushing through the three massively gated entrances leading into the chambers. Plainly dressed Craftworlders wore their respected colors strictly and tended to migrate with them in spite of friendly tensions.
Quganas lifted his head for a moment toward the intervening voice, who nodded another warning at the strange veteran………
Why would anyone be arguing in such a bustling atmosphere? The suffocating press of bodies was enough to lament already, only Kiria’s boisterous voice reiterating the tragic news from the slaughter at Naphenneth after her lists of attending officials echoing over the dying confrontation playing out in front of him. The conflict was still slurred in the heavy billow keeping a scent of freshness over all the fires blazing along the passage from beginning to end and keeping the haze ventilated of smoke and ash.
Oceanic eyes alight with a contemptuous hatred for impudent children even gracing such a council peered through the loose screen of rangers forcefully stalking their way through the heavily defended waypoint. Sterilized oxygen funneled through patterns of turquoise colored tiling combing the corridors amidst the fragrance of scented lanterns and the ozone of witchery bubbling from smoldering pyres burning in large pits aloft the passage. Soft embers blurred and crackled in a heavy haze beneath the illumed runes inscribed amidst the expulsion of heat and burial décor shrouding faint azure crystals speared aloft the wraithstone barricades. Whirling clouds of smoke and ash wisped through the higher crevices encompassing the encampment, belched from the large serpentine vases smoldering beneath the walkways.
Belunen studied the crowds shuffling past him with some measure of resurfacing contentment, his sunken features calming slightly in his thourough scan for familiar faces. His woven garments kept his pale smooth skin warm and a glow in spite of his age, brown fur lining around the collar of his neck. Rich chestnut matted hair fell upon the thicken wool over his shoulders, not flowing enough to fall into his eyes and plain the way he preferred it. An ordinary walking staff in the palm of his hand tapped the reinforced surface beneath his feet repeatedly in patient wait. Imprints of exotic animals were grafted onto its crimson surface, the Zymbuni planted upon the small sphere on the staff’s edge his favorite.
The elder seer paused in his musings for one second to study the image with a knowledgeable thought. It was a cute and interesting creature… a four legged mammal with a flat face, orb eyes, tiny paws, and a small wiggling tale. A comfortable pet to keep roaming in your house, the fur of his matched the color of his coat. ..
“What is this happening over there, kin!?”
“Some scuffle between the soldiers, I don’t know why these Falgurca are getting so upset allowing us through the next checkpoint! They do not need to be pushing aside just anyone seeking the next conference!”
“Been far too many concerning the tension…” Belunen scoffed coldly at the passing patrol teams, who were passively casting their gazes in around the crowds.
Stoic, practiced tongues were rambling in elegant conversation in a mass of contradicting and intricate dialects competing sociably with one another. Spoken Iciu-Dann was heavy in the majority throughout the council chambers, throngs of red and golden civilians laboring diligently maintaining a friendly atmosphere for other foreign visitors treading by. Seers and other political figures were speaking great towers over lesser rabble, standing atop the great balconies and glistening drapes with keen eyes of judgement. More comfortable tongues were rambling endlessly in a noted excitement in a series of shortened and precise words around the soldiers who were separating themselves in strict, distorted Eldanesh.
All the high grace swept over the Elder Seer’s ears, though he couldn’t help but smile in appreciation to be present in such a cultural event: “The very fate of the future… another hundred years amongst the stars… of all the Craftworlds drifting the seas of alien empires, let Yein-Nasi be amongst them.”
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