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39. Of Khrave, Aeldari and Necron
🕑 Added 2024-06-13 09:29:52 +0000 UTCArchdeacon Majun was a very busy Khrave. His position as the head of the most pious faction of the Dark Coven demanded that from him, and he was happy to oblige, giving his body, mind, and soul to the Lord of Magic. The God he and his kind swore their very existence to and their savior from destruction as a mere forgotten primitive species was the highest honor.
Their ancestry was not hidden or forgotten knowledge. The simple notion that it would be as heretical and worthy of disciplinary training in and of itself. What they once were was known as what had happened and the conditions surrounding their fate. Naught was a secret. It was known that their existence would have been a blink of nothing, an unimportant casualty between forces above their meager comprehension.
And yet their God on the day he was born, the sun had been dark as was their bleak future stirred them from an ultimate end, the dusk of their existence. He brought the dawn, overshadowing the darkness by his dark presence. One far too great for them, as was his divine voice, and they had been the first mortals to have heard it, to have their souls bath in its essence.
So magnificent was it and unworthy they were, death claimed them by the millions, culling the feebles for only the strongest to be given his blessing. Gone was their mortal coil of unchangeable flesh and enslavement to a greater will. Freedom was given to them in all of its forms. Physical, magical, and mental.
In recent times, he had been ever more busy; the creation of Avatars had alleviated his burden and that of all in the Ark of Life, their alliance with other sophonts. But the two manifestations of the sealed God were not omnipotent or an answer to all problems. Their worth was immense as they used the Keys of the Flask for mediums. They couldn't be dispatched carelessly.
Even without this, aspects of theirs, Majun and educated Khrave, were not led to misunderstand the ability of their Sire. Powerful and knowledgeable as Hoopa is, his influence was limited or costly to use, such as the Blackstone Fortresses of Yuggoth. Firing them was a last resort.
It befell him as the Archdeacon to put his effort into the project to his status, and one of these moments was as he walked out of a black tear in reality to a place of the most bizarre of exhibits.
He was the strongest authority here and would act accordingly.
He wasn't unfamiliar with Necron, their cultures, philosophies, or current state of existence as echoes of souls imprinted on artificial puppet bodies. It was a sad one if he ever were to say it. More so with the current state of affairs, the generous offer to Orikan had yet to bore results as most Tomb World simply were no more and the contradictory nature of the act itself.
The largest factor, the Silent King, having fled the Milky Way, did not assist in the matter. Still, even if Majun's experience with these unliving automatons was limited to the Diviner, he wasn't ignorant of how eccentric this Necron Overlord was as he took on the place.
It appeared to be a collection, though calling it that didn't do it any favor and was somewhat untrue to the grandeur and scale of the museum before him. Objects were put into evidence, some of simple clay made by primitive lifeforms, while others were weapons of mass destruction.
But those pale compared to the images of history frozen in time put on display like mere pictures or of living specimens in stasis fields such as ancient and seemingly intact Krorks currently transported by eight-legged creatures of green light and necrodermis toward the coordinated given.
"What manner of creatures are you?" A decidedly synthetic voice with a masculine quality called from his right, and Majun turned to face his host.
Trazyn the Infinite, Necron Overlord, and Master of the Tomb World known as Solemnace were currently on and were under the assault of the Aeldari Empire.
An eccentric individual with a passion for permanently borrowing events, objects, and people without permission and for an underestimated amount of time. The ultimate goal was quite noble, the safekeeping of history, but the methods used were debatable, not that Majun was one to play on morals.
It was a horrid concept that hardly made any empirical sense. He preferred the Five Pillars, the edict of the Beast. There was no need for overly complicated and contradictory codes of conduct to exist as a method to justify one's own actions.
There were several more descriptors to this individual of significance, but as they came from Orikan, their unbiased nature was heavily debated.
Regardless, he decided to answer the future second Necron to join the service of his Lord, that the one concerned was ignorant of the honor. This position was related to the Vault, the divine coffer of Hoopa, as a guardian and treasurer was unneeded to be voiced either.
"Well met, to begin would be appreciated, Necron, but manners and decorum are of little importance, are they not? As to what I am? An honored Child of the Dawn, descendants of one of the countless casualties of your little war of the past with the Old Ones, fucking frogs, piece of shit destroyed. I'm known as Archdeacon Majun." Majun stated matter of factly, oblivious to the meaning behind the last few words beyond that it was a pejorative description of the Old Ones by Hoopa in many of their communions.
The visceral hatred so deep and hot it would awe both Gods dedicated to that emotion may have sipped in the Khrave minds, though it wasn't blind, and what was hated was more of the species' mindset than its actions or creations. As such, it was present in Majun's voice and sensed by Trazyn to the latter's shock.
"Isn't your master the Devil?" The Necron questioned curiously. The turns of events didn't quite add up with his present set of information. Indeed, he only chose this option given by Orikan out of desperation and that he understood the Diviner's inability for anyone but himself to end him.
"Yes, if that is the erroneous locution you utilize to describe our Lord, your lack of understanding is understandable. Time is short-" The sky of dimensional realities fractured further Majun's arrival, only accentuating it to an immense degree, as predicted, "-as you can see. But I can reveal that the relation between him and them is not antithetical to yours and the Star Gods. One of forceful servitude and chains."
"Fascinating." Trazyn hummed; the inane babble from the foolish cyclops began to be worthy of consideration here if what was said was true. Considering the annihilation of the Old Ones after the Magician's illogical action and subsequent explosive suicide resulting in the Aeldari Gods decimating every remnant of the Infinite Empire, if not for a sudden existential urgency, then what was said likely wasn't a lie. But as the winged creature reminded him, time was lacking.
"I must inform you to remain passive toward who will pass those gates."
After those words, Khraves walked out; that was to no surprise, but the smaller figures within them were. Their faces remained hidden by helmets, but sensors encompassing the room they were in told the species hiding behind those armors.
Aeldari.
The immediate connection that these were from the one attacking was considered a possibility but only briefly in Trazyn's processor. The idea of Orikan associating himself with them wasn't an impossibility, neither for the Khrave, but for the Aeldari of the greater Empire to lower themselves was where the idea died.
Those were a different breed—either clones or recruited from the less hysterical portion of the knife-ears population. However, the presence of five-pointed stars indicated who they worshiped.
Their supposed extinction proving to be suppositions put ablaze the brazier of collection in his non-existent heart. The same was true for their more brightly colored cousins as the third 'group' to come out. Trazyn, despite his best effort, didn't manage captu-er safeguard at least one of them for the firsts and the others in scarily low numbers with only three specimens, none troupe master.
As to who these were? The Harlequins and Magi, or in Aeldari the Rillietann and Qualistar'quan, the servants who only laid loyalty to their respective Gods, the Great Harlequin for the first and Archdjinni of the Rings for the second.
Otherwise known as one of the biggest pains to fight for, it wasn't their raw power that was their greatest strength but their trickery, swiftness, adaptability, and abilities to function as one entity. They had been the epitome of annoyance made manifest.
As for Majun, the progress shown by the Magi was not a source of jealousy compared to Khraves. The Aeldari's greatest talent was in that domain, partaking in their uses of psychic power and virtually the only significant advantage they had over his people.
Experiencing anything but satisfaction was a lack of logic he was alien to. He had assisted them as the ultimate authority of the Church of the Beast to form a structured organization with the purpose of developing and understanding the foundation of their society: magic.
Each species had its ups and downs. None was perfect, and saying so was empirically inaccurate, impossible, and a show of arrogance and ignorance to be viciously stomped down.
The Khraves embraced certain aspects of the Archdjinni of the Rings, as did the Aeldari and other species. Most particularly, one that his Lord was exceptionally fond of for some mysterious reason his mind was unworthy of comprehending. One tied to a project not even he was privy to have the secret of but knew its importance.
It was to say that it was not a battle of ego, a foolish endeavor, though he also understood that as one of the if not the strongest psyker of the Dark Coven and their ally, he might be slightly biased in that regard. In the end, it mattered not; their loyalty was equal to that of any of the Khrave, and as such, they were trusted and treated equally.
Not that any other options would have been approved by their God as long as proof of their willingness was given. Hoopa was not a distant nebulous creature pulling strings and expecting exact results. He was more direct and less pointlessly subtle in his approach. His presence was in the life of all; none could hide from his gaze, and no darkness was unknown to the master of them all.
"After this fiasco, would you appreciate visiting my curated collection? Or what remains of it from this uncultured curs!" Trazyn requested, waving an angry, closed fist to the sky as if it would fix anything.
Majun chirped in amusement at the Necron's odd behavior, aware of the danger in the words of such a being, but it mattered not. He knew he was not eternal, and when the time would come, he would become part of his Lord.
"I will see to it when the time is ripe, Necron." Majun snorted curtly, his focus switching to scenes of immense arcane unfolding. Runes were drawn by dancing clowns as leathery wings fluttered, their owner weaving webs of energy while between the two, the less extravagant of the Aeldari began to channel spells for the ritual.
A ritual that would take time to be completed, time they lacked.
"Excellent." Trazyn hummed pensively, "I wonder… What are your goals? Or the Devil, your master, if I may be permitted to ask. I scarcely understand the true reasons for your presence, yet I know it lacks goodhearted charity. You desire what is mine; that is evident."
"We do not seek destruction that I can promise; however, your view is right, Necron. You have in your custody certain objects of great value to our Lord. This invasion of a common foe is merely convenient for us to obtain them, though we're not vulgar pillagers, and you are to win in equal measure." The Khrave explained plainly, a lack of shame or emotion for that matter sipping through.
In reality, it was more of a matter of haste. Diplomacy would have been preferred over brute force, but if the result didn't differ, then the paths taken were inconsequential. Trade would have still been at the forefront, but alas, reality wasn't as pleasant. His Lord saw species and individuals for what they were and acted accordingly, and this led to the present situation.
"Of course, of cours-" The ripple across space and time from the dimensions shattering further interrupted Trazyn sarcasm's sarcasm-filled answer as entire swathes of his museum were permanently destroyed, to his dismay.
"Oh… Is that the two of the fabled Dark Muses?" The Archdeacon mumbled, staring unblinkingly at one of the hundreds of holes that had opened and from which, like a swarm of insects, Aeldari and their cursed constructs, both of flesh and wraithbone, poured. Their ships were too large to enter… for now, but by Majun's knowledge, he doubted they deemed it worthy of the efforts.
"The 'what' now?" Trazyn almost parroted, hating to the deepest recess of his energy-generating core to be out of the loop. However, what he knew was that those two floating down were extremely potent psykers, potent enough to be the top echelon of elite troops within the War in Heaven.
If that wasn't a scary prospect, raw power wasn't the end and be of it all if it wasn't in astronomical quantity, and even then, it didn't mean invincibility. But he wouldn't put much faith in them turning out incompetents. Arrogant as Aeldari were for lesser beings, they were annoyingly cunning, it wasn't unwarranted; very little could thwart them.
The first 'Dark Muse' was a female Aeldari by the look of her unprotected face and body-tight armor in an elegant robe of scarlet ribbons. It also didn't hide her age or what she wanted to show. An aged figure with scintillating vermillion red lips and eyelids followed by an ever-flowing mane of the same color.
It was her that spoke first as she gazed down with a homogeneous mix of visceral disgust and ecstatic chagrin at them, though the attention of her proper focus was the Aeldari.
"I became aware that naive ignorance ran deep in your misguided souls… Guiding you to enlightenment was a destiny given, and yet it proved to be an impossibility. Redemption is lost. I'm heart stricken with sorrow, but I fear there is no remedy for your ailments of treachery and supine nature but through the gift of martyred destruction." She exclaimed in hurt, sweet grandmotherly love oozing like syrupy venom as if the sight physically wounded her body, mind, and soul.
The genuineness was so intrinsically authentic in her tone and body language that it appeared as both it and its opposite, and none could tell which was which. However, the truth of the matter was void of lies as the second Dark Muse followed in, voice strident like the sound of blade clashing on steel.
"Your gentle solicitudes are wasted on these traitorous swine, Hekatii. Nevertheless, they would not appreciate or even comprehend the immaculate virtues of the Dark Prince's divine ways." Her body was no less exposed, showing a hardened visage lacking the unnatural symmetry of her kind as scars adorned her. Blades of many shapes and sizes adorned her lithe, muscular figure, numerous ones deep in her flesh yet leaving her unmolested and unfazed.
"I fear that your eyes are capturing the veracious nature of their fall, Qa'leh." The first spoke with finality, neither making it a secret of their conversation. After all, why would the Red Crone and Mistress of Blades possess the needs to.
"And little Shaimesh was correct in his report of those creatures…" Qa'leh added with cold shimmering fury as, with a flick of her hand, a blade flew, shattering the local sound barriers multiple times over, to only be deflected by her upper right clawed hand.
"Though this shall prove interesting."
Comments
Scarletmenace
Titles such as “fucking frogs, pieces of shit.” That fact that he doesn’t even know what that means is honestly funny as hell.
