Chapter 10.1: The first light illuminates, the second distracts.
Thousands of years before mankind had thought to touch the stars a man remembered an old story he had been told by his own teacher. The man had earned his name in history for his shoulders could spread as wide as his mind. The lesson spoke of the nature of the divine and that of man.
Man was wise, man was powerful and man was greedy. The perfect man made gods fear him and the King of Gods, a being of unquenchable passions and divine Lightning and Thunder cursed man. No longer will man be a full being of two minds, two hearts, four arms and four legs. It was now cursed, as gods feared his ambition, and now man was forced to live life as half of what it could once be, forever searching that which could make him whole.
It was a story among many that I saw, and one of the few common points between the Divinities of Man and those of Eldar and there were very few to find.
Both acknowledge the absolute nonsense a being of two souls and one mind could accomplish but this was not the purpose of the story of the man upon whose shoulders much of human thought stands.
For man, the Divine was a chain and a shield. The chain kept man united, yet weak, in order to ensure that his own ambition would not consume the word around him before he was strong enough to resist his own power and the results of ambition, thus protecting man from the consequences of the actions it had not yet done.
The divinities of man were meant to constrain and unite man, to ensure the engine that is the ambition of man was crippled so that it could not use one of two infinite power sources the human soul had access to before it was ready and thus transform them into infinite power across all that was and could be.
Love and Greed.
Divinity was meant to shackle greed, to dilute it and to do what it could so that man learned that love would not destroy him if he allowed it to bloom, for when it embraced love it would be whole and mighty again.
The divinities of Eldar did not exist to constrain us but to encourage. Each Eldar divinity represented a path towards obsession, each of their words were a lesson into how Eldar could embrace divine madness and achieve greater heights still.
In times past, there was a ritual to adulthood, where eldar would have to prove that they had left childhood and embraced the ability to feel faith. For each of the gods that the Eldar worshiped, any Eldar wishing to become an adult had to suffer a sentence of years equal to the number of divines eldar kind knew as true.
The sentence? They were to embrace a divine for said number of years and then abandon them willingly on the last day and without others telling him to do so. He had to do this for all the gods in order to earn his adulthood.
Many did not achieve adulthood until they reached their first thousand years for there was always a divine they could not instinctively let go of, one divine their mind and soul truly belonged to, thus requiring of them the one thing Eldar were not prone to do, to beg for guidance from those that knew better than them and learn their ways so that they would achieve adulthood. It was an attempt to teach humility to a race whose name the galaxy has learned was synonymous to Pride.
The Empire of Ten Million Suns has existed without this ritual for longer than the eldar had followed it. This was a mistake, but it gave my siblings and I the idea for the three stratagems. Each was less of a plan and more of a methodology to escape danger by mimicking one of the three divine that might pull us out of danger. A worship so farcical it turned holy.
The first stratagem was the Theorem of Cegorach.
We would pretend to be followers of Cegorach, to tell the stories of our people in song, dance and show but with a twist I did not see the followers of Cegorach ever using as I looked in the archives.
Cegorach's followers were still welcomed in most spaces they went to, their attempts at teaching used as the backdrop for the nights' activities.
We would do so poorly, incredibly so, hilariously so and most importantly noticeably so. We would abandon our pride with a smile and a bow as each interpretation of the values of the Eldar that the followers of he who laughed at the absurdity of existence learned what it was to be laughed at and do so knowing their lessons would be mocked. We counted on it, we exaggerated failures in our repetitions to make them even more embarrassing, to make it look as if a young troupe was trying something new in the hope of attracting attention by mimicking incompetence. We learned to quickly change the shape of our wraithbone armor, to match the various characters in the plays and the possibility that the first stratagem could be implemented was the reason we made our armors so bland.
It would make it easier to morph it to a new suit in the colors and design we desired.
The theorem was that if we would make the Eldar pay attention to us and make them laugh, the laughter would allow us passage to the next group until we could do so again, or perhaps give us the chance to stab those standing in our way when they were not looking.
We did not implement it because he had never had to deal with a large group of Eldar, for we had managed to place ourselves so well it was never needed, even if Aesan's warning did not force us to pick the second stratagem and its intricate maneuvering.
The second stratagem we named The Mission of Khaine.
I was born blessed by Isha, Divine Mother of the Children of the Stars.
When we were young it was her that taught us how to gather food, how to hunt, how to forage and how to look after ones' home. When we grew she taught us the importance of family, of the bonds we shared and we all accepted each other as siblings and children of the same mother. When we were to have children of our own she was what we emulated, the divine example of what it meant to be a mother. She taught us how to mend relationships, how to mend souls and how to mend flesh as we guided those younger than us into a prosperous future.
A sliver of that legacy was my birthright, mine to nourish and mine to live up to and perhaps learn to grow past it.
I discarded it with the callousness one gives a missed bullet among thousands, her gifts were not what I needed in my first hour of my second life. I took for myself a different gift, that of Khaine, the murder of one half of those from whose love I was born from ensured it.
I did not want their love and thus rewarded it with murder and the Bloody Handed god rewarded me in turn.
For this, I lost the ability to heal others as well as even the least talented Eldar, when before I had the promise of being among the greatest. I lost the ability to sing to Wraithbone using my voice, I could still use my soul and special instruments and enchantments upon my gloves to do the same but again I lost the opportunity to be anything but the least in such a craft. I lost the chance at truly molding the spirits of my people with song, for the Gift of Khaine does not allow one to create and inspire, only destroy and cower.
The Gift I had given my birthright for was Murder. My voice learned to kill, my speech needing to forever be devoid of psychic ability lest it slither itself into a position where it would kill my audience unless I gave it a target, then it would obey my will eagerly.
It did not suit me, yet it was my third most loved possession.
The Mission of Khaine was simple in theory yet horrific in practice. I would pretend to be one of Khaine's blessed, there to teach my wards the way of the Bloody Handed God. I would scare, I would bluff, I would pretend to mastery yet not possessed and instead of flaunting it I would be keeping it in reserve to allow my followers the chance to prove their devotion to the God of Murder and in the case that I needed to act I would turn the audience to Khaines' murderous ways or at least threaten to and while they ran in fear, so would I and my siblings run towards the Webway while my would-be foes tried to get their bearings.
The first stratagem required equal sacrifice from me and my siblings for all of us would shatter our pride for the chance at survival.
The second required my own sacrifice for to even pretend at a status I did not possess came with a price it took too long to prepare to pay.
The third stratagem required the same from my siblings which is why I swore I would do what it takes to prevent it, even as my siblings insisted it be added to our contingency list despite my protests.
The third stratagem was called The Toil of the New God. It involved my siblings selling the experience one would feel when having the full undivided imagination and servitude of triplets for a 'limited' amount of acts.
It would turn my siblings into prostitutes for the cultists so that we could pay for our passage.
I was thankful that when Aesan had given us the portent of doom it was not the third stratagem that we were forced to enact, even as I knew my own siblings felt the same despair I would have felt if it were so.
Despair and regret mends easier than divinely ordained scars or death but they always hit harder when it is for those we love to feel them in our name.
I do not regret what is to come, I cannot do so, for my heart refuses to feel anything but pride. It is the one time in my life said pride had been useful.
The craftworlders wish to play, believing their ramshackle technology and delusions of adequacy gave them some moral ground to do anything but piss on. It is time for them to see how much that is worth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'Fools and twins are born on the same day but they come from different mothers.'
I did not understand this saying when my own master told me of it. He told me it is his most prized piece of wisdom, something his own master shared upon him on his first day of apprenticeship and whose transcended wisdom guided his steps for ten thousand years.
I scoffed when I heard it the first time, believing it would be some form of test, a test I tried for twenty years to find the meaning of before giving up and treating it as simply the many centuries of combat giving my master one too many eccentricities.
To be Dilseth Aisse* was to be a fool that did not understand the wisdom of his master and wasted his first century of life not understanding the wisdom of his master and spending another century learning the lesson he tried to teach me the hard way.
Fools are a curse and a blessing, same for twins, but while the twins bless your people and curse your enemies, fools curse you and bless your enemies.
On my 230th year of life I renounced my Apprenticeship to my master and begged him to take me back so that I may learn again properly because I was a fool and did not learn properly the first time.
He did not laugh at me, he had not spat on me for my insolence, he did not beat me until my bones were dust for not giving his lessons the dutiful study and appreciation they deserved. He instead told me that he is proud of me and that I had followed the same footsteps as he and stood ready to one day give the same lesson to those I am to teach.
The lesson that without some shred of humility all eldar are fools.
I am now in my 4366th year of life. I have taken 50 apprentices, 2 of them had come to the same realization my master had taught me. The other 48 I have given up on, for they continue to be fools.
Of the sorry excuse of a warhost I lead today, only one shows the barest potential that I might take on as student and see if he can learn the lesson that took me 200 years to learn.
None of those that joined me were older than 500 years old. This was for many their first serious mission.
The mission was almost routine in how simple it is to be.
The farseer sensed some interesting individuals upon this world. Eldar around which fate shifted in unusual ways. Our goal was to go to the border world of the empire and see why.
We were not to engage with them, we were not to talk to them unless addressed to first and we were to just observe and try to tell the seers what we saw so that they may try to use this information to make sense of the farseers' madness.
It was the 55th such mission I have been a part of, the 55th time I went to a world of the empire, in search of something a seer thought interesting. It rarely did lead to much. The only reason such missions were noteworthy was due to the fact they happened in the worlds of the empire that the pleasure cults had taken over fully, thus turning easy missions into important ones.
I did not expect issues, I had given my warriors simple orders that I always give on such worlds. Orders that I believed a gyrinx would be able to follow.
1. Keep in formation until we are attacked, if we are disengage and await for orders before fully engaging in force. We need to know if we can take on whatever decides a host of 86 armed and armored eldar is an acceptable target.
2. Only kill the guardian of the gate if you have to, we would rather not anger the local prince if we can help it. We don't know if they still care for the sacks of crystal and bones they left there.
3. Do not start shooting randomly, we do not want to draw attention. We can't survive any serious attention if it does fall on us.
4. By all that is holy do not separate from the group. There's things in the shadows and dark alleys that think your screams are an aphrodisiac, do not give them an easy target.
They were simple orders, routine orders, things that should be obvious even to the newly born that one would be better served by following than by ignoring.
For some reason, the many centuries old wastes of food and Wraithbone I have been given command over had somehow failed to listen to any of my orders for one reason or the other.
The first order broken was the second. It was the only one that was excusable in hindsight. The dirt stain was planning to drink our souls to see if he can get drunk after failing for the last 300 years to do so.
The scout who did so, a woman I only knew by soul signature would have gotten only a screaming session for her insubordination. No write-ups, nobody up the chain would hear of her stupidity, farseer or not, to know of it and when she reached home she would be granted a transfer to a command of my non-failed apprentices who had need of trigger happy scouts. It was more of a reward than anything, but one I felt was deserved as she probably saved someone's life.
The second order to be broken was the third order I have given. For this order, the other scout had no excuse. The individual she shot upon had surprised us yes, but they showed that they were willing to parlay. The entire encounter could have ended up with us receiving local assistance or perhaps even new recruits. She decided to shoot the poor bastard that tried to greet us with an open hand.
I was more surprised she survived my desire to shoot her and that my self-restraint decided to hold more than the fact that her target survived and showed her a very rude one fingered salute. I was also far more incensed by the fact that what should have been an easy parley turned into a shuriken fight as the allies of the would be diplomat decided to start shooting at us to cover the retreat of their leader.
This turn of events lead directly to the breaking of my first order. My forces did not wait for orders before engaging. I was by this point so angry I lacked words to describe it or the ability to do anything else but follow my instincts and try to keep my warriors from killing themselves.
I have spent less than 10 heartbeasts on this world and I already wished my command was dead by my hand more than that of this worlds' inhabitants.
I was angry, not cruel.
The breaking of my last order seemed almost routine in comparison to what came before. The sort of thing one does as easily as breathing when looked upon it from afar as a fifth of my troops broke it as they tried to reposition themselves for a better firing position on those the rest of their comrades chased.
I realized then the difference between different types of experienced individuals. I was used to warriors that knew that things are extremely dangerous when the enemy is an eldar. I expected caution, I expected trust and fear, and instead I found myself having to teach these lessons to those who had only ever fought orks.
To fight orks is different than fighting Eldar, their passions run deep and to await for orders as they engaged you was to await for death. Spiritual connection and synchronization, superior firepower and agile movement were the ways to fight the green tide, not strict adherence to a chain of command and restraint.
'Mother I apologize for what I am about to do, I know you hated it when I resembled father too much, but I now need to scream so hard another world will feel the weight of that which I have earned as my birthright.
I'm sorry I keep reminding you of the first day as a guardian when you met father and of the last day you saw him before my birth. I am sorry that I swore I would never remind you of my fallen father and yet each day I fail my promise and become more like the father who died before I was born. I am sorry, but your unfilial son's anger is too large and my subordinates too foolish.'
My voice boomed across the soul of my command. Bloodlust fueled by anger washing across that which was born of ritual and experience.
"Do I command eldar or Mon-keigh! Red wing get back in position before I feed your souls to your children! Maybe they can use them better!"
My command panicked as they realized a small scout group was the least of the their priorities.
I did not let go.
They couldn't follow orders right but thankfully their ears could still hear the screams. I only needed them to focus on mine and not those of their stupidity guiding their actions.
"Vanguard, for the love of our mother Isha, if I find a single one of you with blood on your sabers I'll make sure you clean it with your intestines, I don't care by which hole I have to force it in but by Khaine I'll extensively test it on you in order to find out! One hundred years should get me the results I seek!"
They stopped and ceased hunting down the small scout group. Now to wrangle the other half of my idiots.
"Blue wing, I sincerely hope a daemon came and sucked at least one of your souls out of your assholes because by the time I'll find you, you will be begging for it to have happened! Get back in position you unsightly and dumb orks before I make you! The only eldar thing about you is your grace! Do you think you are in a theater to be hopping around? I doubt Khaine's consort taught you those moves or maybe Cegorach decided to play on prank on you to look at how foolish you are, but what do I know, I'm just your commanding officer trying to keep your sorry souls attached to your bodies!"
"Scouts, if the two of your half of a half brain continue to look at your weapons funnily and you don't do your damn jobs and scout out the area I'll make sure you go tell Cegorach what's so funny about them. I need a laugh and I'm sure the Laughing God will send me a troupe to cheer me up once he hears your jokes. You'll be giving him materials for centuries, and if the gods are kind maybe even cure his madness!?"
My voice continued my harsh retorts. My troops finally remembered that orders exist in this reality and that I'm the one issuing them.
"To all of you shit-brained washed up poor looking imitations of corpses not even thinking about disobeying orders before they do so, if I find any of you disobeying my orders again I'm throwing you into the warp to beg the gods to send you home or to the next life because while I'm not so cruel to leave you in the empire, the Gods smite me if I'm letting your stupidity pollute the Webway on the way back home! Your next life will teach you that you have a brain and how to use it because this life has failed you!"
My warriors finally listened. The two scouts that started this whole waterfall on incompetence and insubordination finally remembered that this is a scouting mission, one which ideally they shouldn't have been firing during at all, and started doing their damned duty.
The other two women and coincidentally only warriors besides my future apprentice that could do something as basic as following orders remained by my side.
There are exactly three individuals that did not disobey any of my orders. Two of them are scouts and are awaiting for orders, the other I am unsure if he is even awake for all he moved but I would assume he was, because unlike the half-souled sleepwalkers in my command he actually remained in his position as vanguard and stood as the rally point to which the rest of circus I lead could gather at.
"Taiacca, Curana as two of the three working brains in my command each of you pick a wing, you will be having command over it. I'm not expecting the gods to provide a miracle, just keep the fools from shooting themselves while picking their noses with their rifles. I'll settle for them not firing up when they do so." I continued.
I finally stopped screaming. My voice was harsh to them, perhaps too harsh, but compared to what I subjected the rest of my command to I might as well offered them my sons' hand in marriage for the kindness I held in my soul for them.
I only had one to give each but I'm sure the boy would find a way to handle it. He's not a fool.
"Yes mission leader." the two individuals responded at the same time, their voices clipped and short.
Finally some competence. I will thank my master for sending these two to me if I survive this mission, I'm sure I would have died from anger if I did not have at least one competent subordinate but having two of them had managed to reduce my anger.
The air stopped being red now.
The two even kept their mocking of their new commands non-verbal, instead allowing the smugness of their souls to chastise those they now could freely order around.
"Eadon, stop shivering in fear, you have lead of the vanguard, it's your job to make sure they don't die stabbing each others' asses." I spoke to the last member of my command. I tried to keep my voice the same as that of the new Wing Leaders.
I am not sure I succeeded, having someone finally follow orders managed to calm me down somewhat.
He came from the Empire himself, he knew what sort of things awaited us and yet chose to face them regardless. I had a bit of hope for him and his shoulders slumped, but he proceeded to follow my orders without comment, his acknowledgement being sent through a quick emotion burst. I felt my hope grow.
He did not gloat to his command, but instead just quietly started organizing them.
Once things started settling into a rhythm I finally remembered to breath again. I forgot I needed to do so even if my body's functions did not.
We might still survive this.
AN: Had to cut this chapter in half. Diseths' creativity got to me and his wisdom made it too long to fit In a single chapter.
Diseth=Dílseach →Dutiful
Aisse= Aigne → Mind
Taiacca=Go Tapa → Fast.
Curana=Go cúramach → Carefully.
Eadon= éadóchas → despairLast edited: Nov 30, 2025 Like ReplyReport Reactions:RedLeafPine, Ozekee, Corvus 501 and 455 othersVladicusOct 27, 2025NewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 10.2 New View contentVladicusSage of reason and incomplete informationOct 27, 2025Add bookmark#181Chapter 10.2 For the light blinds the brave, yet tricks the fool.
The eldar have danced across the stars for fifty million years, our song graced all but the furthest reaches of Great Wheel and some places beyond it across time and space.
From the Knight Legions of Terra and its Iron Tides, to the Green Whaaghs and Endless hordes of the Greenskins, from the Flesh Moons of a hundred species to the Machine armies of a thousand more, all that lived on the Great Wheel as it spins across eternity knew that the Empire of Ten Million Suns ruled supreme. Its warriors were the mightiest, it's fleets the greatest in both number and quality and its servants the most capable.
It is a pity that its inheritors are the greatest fools of 7 galaxies for I now commanded some of these fools.
"Have you been able to find the group we have refused the parlay of?" I asked as the half scouting party I have sent returned.
A normal scouting party of Anaen consisted of four scouts, two junior and two senior, lead by a fifth individual, usually a Master of the Hunt or a Master of Secrets or a Master of the Hidden Knives.
None such individuals were available for such a low priority mission. Instead they sent me, a Veteran of Fire, not yet a Master of Fire but perhaps in another thousand years I would be able to claim such a title.
I was the only one available that had any experience with the worlds of the Empire and the knowledge to lead raids, the rest were still dealing with the aftermath of a mission in another part of the Empire that I was not told much about.
I had 85 subordinates, an under-strength host for a normal mission in the empire as the only chance of any warrior from Craftworld Anean to return home was traveling in large numbers.
A normal mission would have five scouts. I started as usual with four.
I was not a scout.
Of those four scouts I had placed two of them as my seconds together with my future apprentice because it is quite obvious the seers had sent me something worse than novices for this mission.
They sent me veterans of the wrong type of war.
I can train novices, they listen well enough even if they don't understand the lessons you try to impart. I work with the failures, to triage the mission with their skills something I had had to learn and have become good at. I can even deal with those more skilled or talented than I, despite their egos and the open questioning of my orders or ability.
I do not know how to deal with veterans of conflicts other than those they were facing now.
'Perhaps this mission is also a test? The seers trying to see if I have what it takes to earn the tile of Master?' I thought bitterly.
I long since stopped trying to ask seers to explain their orders, as they make explanations deliberately obtuse just to mess with me.
I'd happily fail the test too, if it meant I could get my idiots home safe to their families. The title of Master means less than the well-being of those I have sworn to protect.
"No Mission Leader, we have their trail, but it feels strange. We have decided to return and report it in case it was a local trap." The other scout said.
"The first good decision the two of you have done today. You have one hour of rest." Was my cold reply.
The rest of my command staff was with me. There used to be more of them but because they could not follow orders I remade the plan of battle. There was me, there were those who could follow orders and then there were the fools that couldn't.
I only had three that could follow orders.
The junior scouts left.
We camped in one of the buildings near the Webway gate, we dared not take the Webway gatehouse lest whoever ruled this world decided it liked killing squatters.
"We're not in the best position, our troops instinctively follow the wrong lessons to fight the enemy we are dealing with, and we have little to no way of figuring out exactly how to accomplish our mission. Do any of you have anything to add to this?" I addressed my command staff.
"What lessons do we need to know? Maybe we can compensate and even if we can't now it might prevent them from doing the same in the future." The younger of the veterans sent by my master offered.
"All of you have only faced orks?"
"I faced Imperial civilians before, but never in a warhost, and Cresistauead pirates once, never faced orks." did my future apprentice answer.
"Only orks." The older scout, Taiacca answers.
"Orks and a machine empire."
"Right, so none of you know much of what to do."
I stood and considered my options and how to frame them.
"The Cresistauead pirates, humans as they call themselves, how did they fight?"
"They fought in groups and power armor, the ship I fought in too small for even the least of their knight warriors. They were small, weak, slow of reflexes despite acting otherwise but they fought with discipline and suicidal stupidity."
"Those pirates way of fighting is more appropriate to what we have to do than the lessons learned from fighting an orkish Whaagh. We are small, we are weak, our reflexes might be better than our foes and our discipline exists, something our enemies cannot claim."
"We cannot claim to be lacking in stupidity either." Was Taiacca's sly reply.
She tried to make a joke to lighten the spirit and rise our morale. It wasn't funny, it was the truth.
"Yes."
The silence my comment resulted in was deafening.
"What should be the paradigm we follow?" Asked Curana, she was trying to advance the meeting from its awkward spot.
All three of them were scared now, I could feel it through the bond of command. None showed it physically.
"My initial orders still stand, stay together, never go out of sight of others in groups smaller than five unless you are a scout and if something attacks us, we run first and asses danger after we are safe."
"Any advanced stratagems we could use? That won't save us if we catch the interests of a Mind cult."
Eadon's question had merit, the issue was that it didn't matter if I had or not. I couldn't use them with what I had available.
"None that I can do with the troops available to me. None of you have the mix of skills, experience or mentality needed to pull any of them off. While some might have one of it, you are deficient in the others."
"Can't we leave? We were sent here with too little information and improper tools to accomplish our mission." My future apprentice asked.
The former scouts shuddered in disgust, the very concept that they would not finish a mission repulsive.
"This is a mission the farseer decided we should accomplish. While it is not crucial, it would benefit the craftworld immensely according to his words and we have not yet suffered any significant setbacks. If the madman sent us here as we are then it means we have a decent chance of accomplishing our mission or that attempting this will benefit our people in some way. If that wasn't the case then after the previous poor showing we would already be on the road home."
It was the truth. I could do without the tests, I could do without bothering with strangers and putting the lives of my men in danger in a conflict they were ill-trained to fight in. I could not accept the idea that the farseer didn't know all that and still believed it would be better if we tried and completed the mission anyway.
Farseers are many things, wasteful is not one of them.
"Should we reattempt parley with the group in question? Also what do we know of the world we are on that could help our mission?"
"Yes, they are the most useful source of information available. Maybe the Maton might help us but depending on the orders of the local prince or they might just ignore us as we are not of this world, and technically not of the empire. We know nothing but the fact there are three other permanent Webway gates and that this one is the closest to our objective."
"I will find a Maton, and see if they can grant us any assistance." Curana declared.
"Do so after we finish our meeting." I ordered.
"How do we approach them? Their holofields are better than ours." Taiacca asked.
"We surround and offer parley. Holofields do not provide mobility, no matter how advanced. We give them no other place to be but in our weapon sights and they will stop running long enough to accept parley."
"And if they refuse?"
"We apologize and offer recompense, then ask again regardless of response. If they say no again we offer them the chance to come with us back to the craftworld if they are not members of another organization, I can't imagine they want to be here more than we do, if they say no we let them go."
"Why?" Curana asked this time.
She thought I was being too generous. I wasn't. We wronged them, apologizing is the least we could do to mend relations and not make enemies, especially if they did belong to another organization, but they wouldn't accept that explanation. They could follow orders yes, but they were still fools.
"The chance at local guides is too important for pride, especially if the Maton cannot offer assistance. If they accept to serve as guides we have better chances of finishing this mission with no deaths. If they agree to join us, we can leave with something to show for it the following heartbeat. If they refuse we lose nothing." I rebutted gently.
She had the decency of looking ashamed but did not respond.
"Who will approach them for parley if we do manage to corner them? What do we do afterwards if they agree to serve as guides?" Eadon asked after 5 heartbeats of silence.
"I will do so unarmed, if they agree we tell them of our mission and depending on their answers and knowledge we continue the mission or leave. I will accept no argument on this, we need assistance so we will grant them the chance to feel mighty and bear the indignity."
The three fools did not speak despite each of them wishing to protest. It continued for sixty heartbeats.
"What should we order our Wings and the Vanguards knowing their instincts do not match our foe?" Curana was the first to break the silence.
I turned towards her and addressed both Wing Leaders, they were to my left.
"The wings will divide in groups of 5 or 6, I leave their exact organization to you. Two warriors of each group are to constantly watch their backs for ambushes or unusual things, the rest are to focus on providing firing support and assistance to the two remaining scouts. If any possess the skill have them coordinate with other squads." My order given I then I turned towards the Vanguard Leader to my right.
"Vanguards are to divide themselves in 4 groups. One is to represent half of them, the other 3 will be divided equally among the remaining. First group is to be the largest, they will take the front and corral our targets. Groups two and three will serve as protection for the Wings, last group will respond to threats."
I then addressed all of them
"You three will do your best to avoid combat, your duty now is coordination, not glory."
The meeting ended. The maton were ignoring us and our attempts to gently ask for assistance. I had to make one of the fools trying to be forceful with them slap himself till he lost a tooth then apologize to the machine. I forbid him from growing it back until we reached home unless he wanted to find out what it feels like to have each individually extracted, multiple times.
His commander grew it for him unprompted when I was not looking. I was proud of the fool that did so and it reaffirmed my decision to take him on as an apprentice. He will regret doing so then.
There were no other incidents as we pursued our charges. They did not run far.
I wish they did, we might have had a chance at life otherwise.
What we saw was the picture of a master instructing his pupils. I had been a part of such lectures both as master and a student.
The master sat down and still and sang of the accomplishments and failures of his charge as said charges then accepted them and wrote them upon their very souls, one sword stroke at the time.
They were standing. Each sword stroke was both a character and a kata.
It was not a normal lesson however, or at least one would not consider it so if they knew who gave it.
The Chosen of the Bloody Handed God did not do such lessons, they learned as they killed, each stroke of their swords a new lesson, either gleamed from the blood of their victims or their own, or at least that's what I thought until today. I was obviously wrong because if any saw such lessons as that which I was witnessing now, then they did not survive to warn the rest of the empire of their existence.
My warriors knelt at my command as we saw the pupils of the Voice of Khaine listen to the wisdom of their master.
The two fools were brought to kneel by their own common uncle to prevent their stupidity from killing the rest of us.
I could feel where the shot of the scout hit, the Masters' face yet glowed but now the mask showed an expression I did not wish to know gods other than Cegorach could show. The Mask of Khaine smiled, its teeth the still burning plasma that my subordinate fired upon it as it tried to parley.
A chosen of Khaine, one of his own Masks asked for parley and we shot it.
Cegorach nor any of his followers could have invented such a play, the absurdity of such thing impossible to even comprehend, let alone accept as fiction, let alone reality. But reality did not care for what we believed it should be, it simply was.
'We are dead, the entire world is dead, if we don't find a way to atone or redirect its wrath our craftworld is dead too.' I thought numbly.
The Master continued to sing, I did not know the Mask of Khaine could contort into something other than hate and shouts but now I could hear it sing.
Song was the birthright of all Eldar, the one true universal constant that even the gods' decrees were forced to bend around. It seems even the followers of the Bloody Handed God did not hesitate to bend divine mandate to continue being able to sing. It was just that they did not let anyone survive to speak of it.
It did not sing with words it sang with the murder of the soul, the murder of our targets.
We were sent here for two individuals, two souls, one a blessed healer that our farseer claimed would be able to return those stuck as spirit-stones back to life if properly nurtured, for some reason believing that such a gift would be of great use. You didn't need a healer for that.
The other he claimed would one day be his peer, a fellow farseer, the second our craftworld would see. He claimed he could see the ripples of his future covering his own past, each attempt at divining their future showing the life of another.
The two were siblings, the two were meant to be on this world, the two were dead. The Mask of Khaine spoke in their deaths to us as it transferred knowledge of his charges' inadequacies through the memory of their days. It would show the memory, then kill it with profane precision until the memory of the words the two young souls spoke the words the master wished to convey to his pupils.
The Masks of Khaine could not speak without others dying, their very words murdered that which could hear them but the one before me had found a foul way around it.
'Kill someone then have their dying screams speak what you mean to say afterwards.'
It was ingenious, it was obscene, it was the most holy way to praise the Bloody Handed God when even your speech was the result of murder and others could hear to appreciate it. Doubly so when you could use it to sing.
A day of relaxation, the chance of an older brother to teach the younger one how to swim turned into the grim recollection of their 22nd victim and her songs of sorrow as she cried at the death of the son they had also killed.
It spoke in prideful tones of another one, the memory of one child learning to read physical characters describing how their Master was proud they did not need to hide as they killed their next target.
The three were one, they were triplets, the favored scions of the Mask of Khaine and his apprentices in the worship of murder and dealing death.
I could hear whimpers, my soul felt the world around me. The Mark of Khaine was slowly starting to appear across the city, it was painted by the locations the Mask of Khaine described in his charges murders. The air slowly gained a dark tint as the mark started to slowly attempt to form into reality.
It talked of how it was disappointed in them. It could not kill, lest his charges fail their training assignment, it spoke of our meeting and of the foes his apprentices now faced.
The first question was asked, did they accept failure? Will he have to kill in their name? It was willing to accept divine punishment for the sabotage.
The three who were one remained silent as their learning dance continued. I spoke before they could doom us.
"We accept the parley that was offered and apologize for the tardy response, we agree to offer our swords and my soul so that they may accept to resume their peaceful passage."
My fools used their psychic abilities and planted all their weapons in two straight lines with space enough for multiple Eldar to pass through, they did not reach it but pointed towards the Webway gate.
The mask retorted in amusement. A foolish offer, useless weapons of the craven, a meaningless soul. The memory murdered to create speech spoke of the death of an older sister.
"We accept. You will keep your life and soul in exchange for guaranteeing we are not bothered." One of the bodies of the three souled mind said. The dancing stopped.
It offered mercy, we could smell disappointment. Both smelled like piss.
"I thank you for your generosity." I said as I knelt.
My troops rose, I was the last to do so.
Weapons were reclaimed by hand and we walked back towards the Webway gate. The city continued to burn as it did before we reached it, the Mark of Khaine receded fully as we reached the Webway gate.
The triple bodied mind stopped just before entering it and stopped. They knelt at the entrance. They awaited for their master to leave first.
Their master did not, instead it headed towards one of my scouts.
The Mask of Khaine approached the fool who had shot him. His smile yet glowed of plasma. My warrior stood unmoving and looked at her murderer. It put a red hand upon her face plate.
It left a red imprint. She continued to stay standing.
The mask left her there and entered the Webway, its apprentices followed. She yet lived.
"Thank the gods we live."
I do not know who said it but I agreed and did so, fervently so in fact.
~~~~~~~~
Craftworlds started as the domain of trade princes and princesses. They objected to the creation of the Maton, the abandonment of money and tradition for leisure and free access to that which those that received it did not work for. They tried to prevent it, they failed miserably so they took their slaves and servants on grand ships too large for even the Webway to easily accommodate and left.
They were mocked mercilessly for one hundred generations for their stupidity. The trade princes eventually died, the descendants of their servants and slaves ruled the moon sized ships they created. They created the same system they had left from, only without the Maton to serve them.
They also were now forced to trade their skills in war and the materials they could mine to 'lesser species' in order to pay for passage and good will.
Their technology was less advanced, their psychic arts less refined, with them having to start back from near zero as servants and slaves were not on the top of the list to receiving the legacy of our people.
To be a Craftworlder was to be the laughing stock of the Empire, for even the Exodites have chosen their fate knowing fully well what it entailed and still stuck to it, stubbornness their one trait the rest of the Empire admired and respected. The Craftworlders failed in keeping to their own promises of living in the misery of their own creation.
Some even ran from them to join the worlds of the Empire or the Exodites.
This only fueled the endless fountain of mockery they were receiving, and now with my final act I had created one more grain of sand upon the monumental heap of insults given to those born in the failed dreams of failed princes.
Fooling the craftworlders was easy but expensive, a perfect metaphor to their own current existence. We had prepared what days to sacrifice of my memory in advance. We made copies kept by my siblings, and they would be returned once we reached safety.
Each cut I placed on myself hurt still despite the future promising healing. The present did not provide such luxuries.
My skin was flaky and dark, my veins a deep glowing red. I am unsure if I still had eyes, as I was not using them to see, I was not using muscles to walk for the same reasons either.
I am a Whisper of Khaine at best, the first step towards his murder priesthood and perhaps the chance of greater boons. I pretended to be on the last step. This has consequences I now pay for in full. I didn't care, it was a price well paid for freedom.
My siblings wept for my sacrifice, blaming their own inadequacy for my suffering as we ran while trying to find some safe space across the rainbow.
I laughed in joy that they did not need to experience it.
We had our freedom, now it was the time to enjoy it.
AN: Congrats everyone the prologue is over, I hope you enjoyed it.Last edited: Nov 30, 2025 Like ReplyReport Reactions:Polarix, RedLeafPine, Corvus 501 and 482 others
Interlude One: Of trickery and kind deeds
I inspected my newest sword forged. It was a good sword, not the mightiest and not the least of my arsenal and as all swords it would cut fools and test the worthy.
It had demands of me, as all newly born swords do. Unlike most, these did not involve death. I was unpleasantly surprised but sighed. Each sword had its eccentricities I suppose.
It wished for me to watch a play as its family would play its first and that it be allowed to see, it demanded for me to look over their travels and to seek if there is anything worthy to be found in it.
I agreed, I have been asked for worse things from those I loved.
I was greeted with two interesting ideas and a blasphemy from a play with sixty-three ways it could end and two acceptable means by which it could end there. The play was middling I suppose, it lacked complexity and death even as its scope was acceptable. Its audience; the fools and the craven lead by a half warrior half child rearer made it interesting. Perhaps it was a part of the show?
I gave it my smile, it would not do to be rude at a child's first song. I have seen worse and far more boring from those older and more experienced.
A middling blessing for a middling performance so that they may recover from it faster and perhaps make better ones in the future.
A kind gift was given by an older brother to a younger one, one which was given by said younger brother to his older one.
Said older brother laughed as a debt formed and the older brother was proud of his younger one and thankful for the small gift.
A kind boon for a kind gift, one which I shared with my servants and fools so that they too may enjoy the kindness of the family of my newest sword. They rejoiced for it was a song they could sing!
Life continues to be miserable, but it is now brighter.
My other half approves, my newest sword was happy, the fools were not. I smiled at their misery and I remembered that smiling could bring fun.
A new sword always brought good tidings!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
' I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die!' Was the mantra I took upon me as I followed the Warhost back home.
Followed was a misleading term for I was technically in the front as one of its two scouts, my duty to scout ahead for dangers so that my comrades could return home safely.
Our leader was older than any eight of us put together and it showed as it managed to negotiate our safe return home from the jaws of death, jaws in which I put myself in as well as my cousin, uncle and the other unfortunate souls that I found myself having to call comrades today.
When we left from home, none liked our leader. He was rude, he was standoffish and always seemed to look down on all that beheld his gaze, as if any common eldar was equal in his eyes to the lesser races. Now nobody did so, we were thankful the old cantankerous pit of insults, spite and the very rare wisdom was leading us back home.
We'd be dead if it was anyone else.
'Who heard of the greatest and most Murderous servants of Khaine to ask for PARLEY!?' I silently screamed in the privacy of my mind as my cousin and I finished scouting the Webway passages that branched from our route in order to ensure none would catch us in a pincer.
There was none to do so to us today. I like to think we were running too fast for anyone to even notice us. No, the truth was more likely that they could see the red hand upon my helmet and were running as far as they could. I would do so too if it was not attached to me.
"Nothing to report Mission Leader, no sighting in the branching tunnels." I reported.
My report was echoed by my cousin.
"Good, we are one hour from home. Once we're home you will come with me to report to the seers and the Masters." He said and I thanked all of the gods that we had managed to run so fast.
A trek that took two weeks from home to the world we met death in, only took five days to return from the same.
I was just happy I could return back home to my young child and my husband. I longed to hear their songs again.
The hour passed in silence, the guards welcomed us warmly until they saw my helmet. They stammered in fear. My Mission Leader plowed through their questions and fear and barked his orders in the same cadence he saved our life with.
"Inform the seers and any Masters, be they of war, dialogue or bone. I bring grave news. I will meet them in the Seers sanctum, please ensure that the farseer is there. Our mission failed."
The guards hesitated but my leader removed his helmet and gave them a look of despair that was mirrored by every single one of our warhost behind our helmets.
"Hurry, there is no time to doubt."
They allowed us passage, mobilization was called as the masters, the seers and the farseer were called to listen to our words.
The seers sanctum was filled. A room meant to handle fifty people at most held almost double that.
My own family tried to sing to me, their tones confused but glad I had returned. I told my husband to keep our son in-doors and be armed. Confusion met my statement, then conviction. My husband would do as I ordered for now but he expected answers. The alarms started blaring shortly after. I silenced our choir.
The rest of my relatives that sang to me were told to be silent and prepare.
"Why have you called for this meeting Disseth Aisse? You may be a veteran of fire with a mission from the farseer, but such meetings are not called lightly." A master of fire asked kindly.
The man was asking what all wondered but he got to vocalize it for he was Disseth Aisse's own master.
We sang with our souls in remembrance of what we have gone through. We started with the first few seconds of our passing through the Webway and my cousin's and I's poor showing followed by the poor showing of the rest of the War host. A third of the assembled snickered at our saviors' insults of his own followers.
They stopped once we showed them the Mask of Khaine lecturing his students.
Once we were done the farseer shouted.
"You were sent to retrieve a healer and a seer that might one day become my peer. How did you do this? Is this some sort of jest?"
"I will not bother with explaining what I have seen and felt as the Bloody Handed God smiled at me. If you wish answers you will check through the skeins of fate and confirm whether or not I speak the truth or I have been subjected to one of Cegorachs' most realistic pranks. I will accept any punishment if it turns out we were pranked. We do not have the time for posturing." the Mission leader responded to the farseers stupefied tone.
The rest of those gathered nodded in approval. If what they saw was genuine then the faster they confirmed the better, if it was not then punishment would be swift at least. I prayed we were pranked.
The farseer squinted his eyes but nodded, this would save time.
The seers came closer to their senior madman as their runes started to glow. The farseer started to burn black.
"A smile, I smile, a smile of blood and murder, a-a-a-a-a-a-a nod of approval. The brandishing of a sword, a laugh shared of Cegorach and Khaine, *aaaaagh!*" The farseer screamed as his skin turned black and he fell.
He still lived as the healers rushed to keep him alive.
The seers nodded at each other, a conversation of soulsongs and thoughts ensued. We were not privy to what was being discussed, none but the seers were.
The seers then turned to me after ten heartbeats of deliberations.
"We have come to a conclusion. The Bloody Handed God approves of what happened during your mission, and the decision of his Mask. Congratulations Taraithe Tagasta, you are now the first divinely recognized hero ever born on Craftworld Anaen." The eight seers said with little joy and even less compassion.
I whimpered, I wanted to hug my husband and give him many more children. Anything to keep me from leaving home or being in this room.
AN: Taraithe Tagasta ->Traoithe gasta- quick feet.
I did not lie, this is not a chapter, this is an interlude.Last edited: Nov 30, 2025 Like