Thick argon-heavy air sweltered in the heat of the young sun high above the surface of XGN-T29. Rumbling clouds overhead heralded the coming afternoon ammonia-storm, the lightning streaking across the sky, thunder muddling the sound of distant combat. Ranks of corroded armor and half-consumed flesh slogged through the mud and primitive foliage, their fleshy bodies and burbling tanks leaving trails of sickness in their wake. They were less than a mile away and closing rapidly over what would otherwise be impassable terrain; hundreds of corrupted mon-keigh bloated with the power of Chaos.
Watching this deadly formation from atop a ridgeline were dozens of slender, shadowy figures, their pointed dark blue helmets disguising varying looks of disgust and apprehension. Nervous fingers caressed the triggers of weathered splinter rifles, their owners by now well acquainted with their lot in these raids. A pair of anti-grav carriers, their battered Raiders, hung in formation behind them. They were both shorn down to bare metal, the paint long since worn off by countless deployments. Mis-matched colors of "loaner" Venom gunboats clashed with the Kabal's heraldry and took uneasy aim at their allies' backs, lest a coward amongst them should get any ideas. Further down the ridge behind them all, a hideous floating creature the size of a tank hummed almost motionless in mid air, seemingly unaware of the danger lurking below.
Standing on ridge before them all was an imposing figure in old, sturdy dusky-blue armor. Her spiked fist clenched an old orange and brown blaster with the words "RUSTY" scratched into the stock. Her tall and spiked helmet's eyes glowed a faint red as its respirator scrubbers tried desperately to salvage what oxygen it could from the caustic atmosphere, the residue dripping onto her breastplate like saliva from a hungry dog. Infrared sensors and data links fed her information on the mass of creatures below as the commlinks opened.
A low masculine voice sounded in their helmets, "Kabal of the Iron Maiden, the aliens are getting within range of the main raid. Engage your sector."
"Affirmative," the poised figure replied, her tone strong. The Kabal behind her instantly latched themselves to their respective gunships, their chain-belts clinging to secure metal hardpoints. A few re-checked their poison loadout, ensuring they had the right toxins to combat the plagued soldiers. The buzzing behind them grew louder as the Talos roused from its slumber, its lethal tail rising into the air. The Archon however held her position and returned to monitoring the formation of creatures below. At least fifty marines, five corrupted Predator tanks, a dozen Rhinos, and Khaine only knew how many daemons and plague zombies were haunting between their ranks. She watched motionless as they lumbered closer, uneasy about giving the order to strike just yet.
"Archon Irons, deploy!" Her comms commanded. Pain synapses wired to their helmets snapped like a shock collar, lashing them all with nerve-rending jolts. The warriors behind her spat and cursed under their breath but the Archon merely twitched, still belaying the order.
"Mistress, we must attack, we'll be overwhelmed if we don't get moving now," one of her Sybarites insisted.
"These warp-touched aliens can't hope to catch our Raiders," she replied, still not taking her eyes off the enemy.
"I was not talking about the mon-keighs, my lady," he reiterated, pointing towards the flanking Dark Eldar craft coalescing to the east.
Taken aback, the Archon looked up and glanced in their direction, "Shit."
"Erinyes Irons," the voice shouted, "get your half-born ass and that cesspit you call a Kabal out there!" A second zap of pain pierced their helmets.
Archon Irons grunted as she raised a hand to her metal-encased temple, "Hail the Reavers and tell the Razorwing to get in the air. Looks like we can't wait for the storm to give us cover."
Thunder overhead rolled over the raiding party as their engines roared to life. The Sybarites grabbed their helmets and began shouting on various channels as strike crafts lifted into the air. Blades on the Talos whirred to life while the pumps on its back churned its thick poisonous blood. Its liquifier gun dribbled a noxious payload onto the ground in anticipation. Archon Irons grabbed onto the side of her Raider, the Naglfari, climbed onto the bow, and secured her chain-belt. With one hand in the air and the other clutching her blaster, she waited. Thunder rolled across them once again, shards of lightning scattering over the now dangerously close advancing force of Chaos. Then a second boom came, the tell-tale pop of a supersonic blast. The foe below them tensed immediately, bringing their bulky human weapons to bear as they searched the leaden skies for some sign of the cause. Four bolts of lightning struck the ground in catastrophic thuds, their explosions petrifying and shattering the corpses of the Chaos-infused aliens like frag grenades. Moments later the ear-piercing shriek of the Razorwing's supersonic engines tore at their ears.
"Attack!" The Archon threw her arm forward and braced her legs against the front railing of the Raider, leaning back to pull the chain-belt taught. The craft surged forward with frightening speed, going almost parallel with the cliff as it plunged towards the earth below. Erinyes held tight, one hand on the sturdy chain and the other on her weapon, already taking aim on her quarry. The helmsman pulled up at the last second and the Raider craft leapt forward, boosted by the pent up anti-grav field. The Venoms followed a safe distance behind and the chatter of their splinter cannons hailed their arrival, bits of crystal flying into the side of the Chaos formation.
Like a banshee wail (no not that kind) a trio of jetbikes sped across the field to a symphony of bolter fire. The pounding thuds of the human guns echoed off the surrounding cliffs, missing every shot as the bikes slashed through their ranks, bouncing and jinking in mid-air over their heads, dropping explosive caltrops as they went. The Archon could feel the noise reverberating in her chest as the Raider neared, filling her with the exhilaration of battle. With a flick of her hand the helmsman turned the craft broadside to the foe, slowing down as the Kabalites unleashed rapid fire salvos into the former Space Marines. As soon as the fiends turned to face the Naglfari it sped up, the built-in night shields projecting an inky black outline as it bounded towards the line of escorting armor.
Archon Irons cracked a shot off, a bolt of darklight blowing a hole in the chest of a marine, smearing his insides in hyperactive radiation. At the same time the dark lance on the front of the Raider blasted a hole in the glacis of an oncoming Rhino. The metal box's left track shattering as it wheeled around on its right, blocking another two lanes in against a low cliffside and halting the formation. The Reaver jetbikes swirled overhead, coming in for another pass as the ammonia-laced rain began to fall, drenching the field in an acrid chemical smell.
The sun became muted through the building cloud cover as the second Raider made its pass over the infantry. Flashes of lightning gave a flickershow of the Talos ravaging the enemy ranks, its liquifier gun melting those that stood before it into thick mucus as its heat lance burned through the chest of another Plague Marine. Erinyes watched with satisfaction as the face of plague zombies melted in the caustic sludge her pet dispensed. The crackles of the bolters grew into a deafening roar as they rallied against the monstrous creature, the corrupt humans finally having a stationary target to fixate on. A wall of splinter shards fell on them like so much of the corrosive rain as the Venoms desperately tried to give it come covering fire. The rattle of a disintegrator cannon on the other Raider shattered another squad of marines, their armored bodies crunching like insects.
The Naglfari circled higher as Archon Irons grimaced under her helmet at the turmoil she saw. These Nurgle-slaves knew neither pain nor fear; they were the most contemptible of all the foes she'd faced save perhaps the malignant force that was She Who Thirsts. She lined her blaster up for another shot as a thick beam shot from a Predator, shattering the hull of a Venom across the field. The Archon could only watch as the warriors within were engulfed in the explosion. Two were impaled on shards of metal from their own craft while the remaining crew were trapped, pinned beneath the wreckage. A horde of Nurglings scrambled from the muck and ooze towards the wreck as agonizing wails rang through their comms, begging their comrades for help before the wet slapping of disease-ridden claws ended their lives. Now, the Archon thought, that was more like it.
"Close ranks and concentrate fire on the heavy weapons. Get that Razorwing to do a pass on the Rhino line," she ordered, the comms sputtering as her helmet discharged a load of ammonia from the air ducts.
"Confirmed," her two remaining Sybarites replied in unison. The loss of their lend-lease armor and warriors seemed to have raised their spirits, that or the combat drugs were kicking in. At any rate they seemed more enthusiastic now that there was some proper anguish on the field. The second Raider shot forward to flank the humans' sluggish armored line, its disintegrator peppering the side of a Predator tank to no effect. This earned it a shot from another lascannon, its lethal bolt missing the gunship by mere inches as its helmsman jinked back, swinging the disintegrator wildly out of aim. The warriors were tossed around but kept up fire on the mass of Plague Marines, the bolter shots pock-marking the already dulled finish on the Raider's fragile hull.
A handful of Plague Marines within range of the Raider chucked disgusting globs of flesh onto the open deck and Erinyes tapped her helmet to get a closer look. Warriors stopped firing momentarily to watch as the things rolled around the deck. They were human heads bloated with disease and capped with wax, churning and bubbling with every jostle. One exploded in an eruption of diseased pus, setting the other plague grenades off in a cascade of toxins. The warriors on board caught in the blast began tearing their armor off frantically, their pallid skin stretching to burst as their welting flesh crawled away in sickening burns. A warrior peeled the slough from his cheek as he fell from the deck into the melee below, only to be eaten alive by the tiny nurglings running underfoot.
Archon Irons snapped her attention away from the terrible but enthralling spectacle as the Naglfari swung low. Its dark lance planted a shot into a hulking slab of armor but merely glanced off, doing minimal damage. She frowned as she turned to the gunner, his helmet drooling much like her own and slobbering moisture all over the controls. As the Raider swung around to continue circling the armored line she unhooked her chain-belt, falling a dozen feet onto the hull of a Rhino below. Holding her blaster out with one arm she popped a shot off into the fighting compartment, the vehicle suddenly lurching forward at full speed as the dead driver jammed the controls. A handful of corrupted Space Marines were crushed as the half-melted dozer blade on front ran over them like so much brush. Taking a hint from their leader, the two Raiders drove their reinforced shock-prows deep into the ranks of the enemy. One's engine caught fire as a bolter shot straight through the lightly-armored undercarriage but it pressed on, the helmsman forcing the ship forward on the remaining two engines. Kabalite warriors on board stabbed and shot frantically as the relentless marines attempted to board their vessels, apparently unimpressed with their tank shock tactics.
Erinyes fired at a Plague Marine trying to climb aboard her commandeered Rhino, the blaster tearing the slovenly creature's arm off. In the distance, the Talos pain engine was beginning to buckle under the constant small-arms fire. The spinning drums of spikes and barbed wire it called a hand were jammed with the thick plates of marines and its toxic blood was exhausted. The heat lance on its tail lowered slowly as a bolter shattered one of its conductive tips.
"Eddie!" the Archon cried, leaping from the back of the human machine. She sprinted towards her Raider, the anti-grav ship now thoroughly beaten by enemy fire. It lowered just enough let her catch on before the helmsman slammed the controls forward, launching the ship so hard it took the arms of several groping plague zombies with it. The second Raider struggled to keep pace with the Naglfari, its damaged engine now joined by its flaming brother. Smoke trailed behind both craft as the lethal lascannons of the remaining Predators took aim. Bolter shells surrounded the fleeing Dark Eldar in a concussive hail.
The Reaver jetbikes swarmed over the marines once more, making another pass to cover their escape with their razor sharp bladevanes. One marine planted a shot right in the grav-drive, bringing the jetbike down into the midst of his daemonic allies. The helpless rider had only moments to scream for his life before the plague zombies tore him to pieces. In their unholy fervor the wych rider's body parts went flying through the air only to be caught by other zombies and devoured on the spot.
Night shields danced around the outline of the Raiders, distorting their image under the dark clouds as they charged full steam away from the carnage. A bolt of las energy scorched the hull of one, just narrowly missing the vital components underneath. As both grav-ships neared the struggling Talos an explosion reverberated behind them. Archon Irons glanced back to see another Rhino in pieces, the holes of two dark lances prominent in its rear armor. A gust of wind rushed over them as the Razorwing Jetfighter made its second pass, the nose-mounted splinter cannon giving the enormous torture device and its struggling Kabal some breathing room.
"Fall back to the portal, we're done here," the Archon commanded in disgust, hoisting herself up onto the deck of her ship. There was no response verbal response, the thrill of battle quickly giving way to the morose swell of defeat as the Kabal scrambled to withdraw with their lives. With what power remained the two flying skiffs made for the cliff again, engines sputtering under the strain. The Plague Marines were in hot pursuit but couldn't hope to keep up with the speedy Dark Eldar, damaged ships or not. Even the Talos managed to stay ahead of the spray of their guns as it followed its mistress away from the throngs of fleshy meat puppets it so enjoyed playing with.
The webway portal opened like an extension of the sweltering cloud cover as the Razorwing darted straight through it, the massive arch shimmering under the clouds. The jetbikes followed, tailed by the decrepit Raiders barely clinging to the air. As the strike force emerged into the cold tunnel of the webway, Archon Irons took stock of their losses. Both Venoms were missing in action though she only saw one fall. Several of her warriors were dead, and both Raiders would need serious repair. They lost a jetbike, a skilled rider, and an entire squad of warriors. All this to come away empty handed.
"My Archon," her remaining Sybarite said, "We should close the gate, the mon-keigh—"
"Not yet," she interrupted, tearing the now useless breather off her helmet. The corroded scrubber hit the deck of the Raider as she reached into a pouch on her belt. The Archon pulled out a thin paper rolled around high quality grave lotus and placed it between her burgundy lips. The glowing red eyes on Erinyes' helmet scanned her warriors as she patiently secured the pouch again. She wasn't leaving without her pet.
Her anxious warriors looked to one another as the Sybarite unhooked himself from the Raider, "Mistress, if those Chaos-touched make it to the webway—"
"Not. Yet."
"But!"
The crack of her blaster going off chilled their blood. All eyes shot up to see a hole torn through the reality-fabric ceiling of the webway many stories above them. The warriors collectively looked down to see the lit cigarette smoking from their Archon's lips, the blaster positioned just below. With this, a hulking form emerged from the other side of the portal.
"Eddie, you certainly took your sweet time," she said, cigarette hanging limply from her mouth.
The Talos merely groaned, its body sundered and bleeding from the combat. Patches of its flesh were sloughing off from the Nurgle plague but it wasn't anything that a haemonculus couldn't fix.
Archon Irons shouldered her blaster and pulled her helmet off. White locks of her hair cascaded around her wide pauldrons as she snapped her armored fingers, "Alright, shut it down and let's go home."
Her Sybarite closed the portal immediately as the Raiders' engines fired up once more. It was half a day's journey back to the outskirts of Commorragh, plenty of time for the rank stench of defeat to fester in their nostrils like the plague they fled from. Or maybe that was the smell of leftover ammonia. Whatever the case, by the time the raiding party limped its way back to port the Archon was fit to be tied.
The Kabal of the Iron Maiden was small, even by lower city standards. It didn't even have its own lair, instead laying claim to the foot of a much larger Kabal tower. Payment for this location was extracted on the Archon's nerves and in the lives of her men, usually by demanding the Iron Maidens act as cannon fodder for the larger raids their landlord hosted. The owner of the tower, indeed the owner of the entire city district, was the Kabal of the Gypsy Road. The Archon who ran it, Salendrid, was an upstart trueborn hell bent on creating a name for himself in the inner rings of Commorragh. He had dozens of smaller Kabals such as hers under his purview. Most were run by half-borns and paying him tribute in souls, loyalty, and men. United they might have matched the Gypsy Road, but individually they were barely strong enough to hold their own block of the lower city. This mish-mash of dubious loyalty was most apparent after a raid such as this when a thronging mass of quarrelling lesser Kabals vied for their overlord's approval, the docks filled with their various trophies.
As the Raiders of the Iron Maidens buckled and lurched into their respective docks the shouts of bitter Kabalite rivalry gave way to sneers and laughter. The chain-hooks lining their boats, what few hadn't been blasted away or torn apart, were empty. Only a few scattered zombie limbs adorned Archon Irons' grav-craft, and those were only there because they weren't scraped off yet. As the disheveled Kabal of the Iron Maiden disembarked they were met with shoves and scoffs from the trueborn of the Gypsy Road, their purple and red armor glistening in the twilight atmosphere. While any other Dark Eldar would have slit their throats for such an insult, especially against an Archon, Erinyes knew where she stood. Her title was for all intents and purposes just for show. Her more seasoned warriors knew it too of course but they chose to follow her for different reasons, granting her a modicum of loyalty that the other Kabals lacked.
Salendrid stood by the displays of the howling Kabals, dispensing praise and disdain in equal measure. His thick purple armor seemed more like the imposing plates of his Incubi guard than those of his warriors. After a satisfied nod, Plague Marines and foetid zombies were escorted to the wych cult arenas he sponsored while the heads of Chaos champions were prominently displayed on the prows of Raiders and Ravager gunships. The Archon of the Gypsy Road beamed as Erinyes approached, motioning for her to come closer. The other Kabalites chuckled to one another as she walked forward, the clomping of her boots on the steel floor soon washed over by a hundred whispers.
"My Lady Irons, a pleasure you could join us," he said, the deep tone of his voice like a silken sheath.
Erinyes bowed with a flourish, her disheveled hair touching the ground, "My Lord, it is an honor."
He motioned for her to rise with a flick of his hand, "Please show us your magnificent bounty."
Archon Irons glanced back at her warriors, most of whom were still slimy with the discharge from their masks. Her Talos humming lazily in the background began to move forward, the tense warriors being pushed aside by its enormous armored carapace.
"My Archon," she started, "I'm afraid the only thing we have to show for our efforts is—"
A wet thump caused her to turn around, the Talos spitting out the half-rotten corpses of Chaos marines, amongst them a Plague Champion in full regalia. Erinyes looked back to Salendrid with poorly concealed surprise, awkwardly gesturing to the monstrous creature, "…Um, this squad of Chaos?"
The Gypsy Road Archon gave her a look of withering suspicion but nonetheless held his hand out. In it were the writhing souls of the lesser human species, a dozen fear-laden personalities ready to feast on. Erinyes accepted them with a gracious nod, backing away to join the ranks of her men. Salendrid watched until she was enveloped by her remaining warriors before turning back to the rest of the Kabals vying for his attention and praise.
Her Kabalite warriors gazed at the frightened souls with hungry eyes, some taking off their helms to size their payment up better. The Archon gave them a moment to wet their appetites before throwing them the lot. The once dignified and civilized Eldar she'd fought with turned into the feral Parched of the undercity, clutching for the screaming souls to gorge themselves and slake their long-standing thirst. She gave a wicked smile, making sure her men knew who the hand that fed them was, while hiding a faint disgust welling in her stomach. When she was through watching their reveries she left them to their meals, patting Eddie on its misshapen arm as she left and slipping him a well-concealed soul treat.
As she peeled away from the crowds, Erinyes scanned the line of gunboats docked at the Gypsy Road tower. The haphazard displays of most of the Kabals were nothing like their genuine counterparts but made for a good show. The bile rose in her throat as she contemplated just how thorough this pyramid scheme Salendrid was running really was. She'd fallen for it, as had thousands of others amongst dozens of smaller Kabals, and now she was in deep to an Archon all too willing to throw her in harm's way. A familiar Razorwing Jetfighter caught her eye and she took a deep breath, the annoyance of the day seething from her nostrils.
Its diminutive pilot stepped towards her, his silver helmet still in place. Kylendris was one of the most utterly loyal members of her Kabal but also the most taxing to deal with, and his absolute refusal to remove his headgear was just the start.
With a deep bow he addressed her, "My Lady Irons, how faired your raid?"
"Rise, Kyle," she said shortly.
"I saw the vicious mon-keigh climbing on the sides of our Raiders, but I knew better than to doubt your battle prowess."
"Thank you."
"Still, I like to think my skills were of some use. They were reeling after my shatterfield missiles went off, did you see? Reeling I say, for seconds, maybe even minutes!"
The Archon gently placed her hand on his helmet, his head coming up only to her shoulder, "Yes, Kyle, you did your part well."
"Thank you, my Archon!" he said, bowing slightly in appreciation of such praise. "Might I say, I have been studying our battle tactics and I might have come up with some improvements after this last encounter."
Erinyes fought the urge to rub her temples, the visible display of irritation would be too much for the other Kabalites to gloat over. Instead she remained silent, walking further down the docks of the Gypsy Road tower.
"I must admit, our Raiders are most excellent and of course your Talos is an absolute testament to your ferocious leadership!" he squeaked, hurrying beside her.
"Get to the point," she replied, not looking at him.
"I think if we had something else, perhaps a melee contingent to sow confusion amongst the enemy ranks. That would complement our raiding party so well."
Archon Irons paced the rows of Raiders and Venoms as she desperately tried to ignore him. Further down she spotted what she was looking for; a dull red Venom seemed out of place amongst the line of purple Gypsy Road vehicles. The borrowed vehicle must have been quickly docked in whatever port was available. A handful of blue-plated warriors loitered around it, among them one of her Sybarites.
"I was just thinking, you know, some of the bigger Kabals will take Harlequin troupes on their raids," Kyle blurted out as she increased her stride, his shorter legs having to jog to keep up. "If we could convince them to join us—"
"We are not going to invite the clowns on a raid, now beat it," she said in a firm tone. The Kabalite warriors noticed her approach, the Sybarite unshouldering his splinter rifle as she took her blaster off her back. He stepped forward, the warriors behind him uneasily bearing their own arms.
"My Archon!" the Sybarite exclaimed, "I didn't expect to see you again-uh, so soon."
"Nisgarien, the surprise is mutual," she replied, pulling another grave lotus cigarette from her hip pouch. She snapped her fingers and lit the fag, taking a draw as she stepped towards the nervous warriors.
"When the other Venom exploded we thought that was it! Please, you have to understand," the Sybarite said, backing away.
"Explain it to me," she said, moving closer. The smoke on her breath billowed against his helmet as she slung her blaster behind her neck, both arms stretched behind it. She arched her back, pressing against her weapon as her posture seemed to heighten.
"That mission was suicide," he stammered, the other warriors all raising their splinter rifles now. "You said it yourself on the way there, Salendrid just throws us into meat grinders for his amusement."
"Uh huh," she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet a couple times.
"So… then why did you lead it in the first place?" he asked.
Even without psyker powers she could read him like a rent soul. He was confused, terrified, and ready to turn on her at a moment's notice. The Sybarite was a rabid animal and she was the farmer with a shotgun. She'd already given away all the souls she received in payment, and if there was one thing an Archon needed, even a fake one, it was gratification. She tasted the tense emotions hanging in the air and smiled, her lips curling around the paper of her cigarette.
"My Archon?"
In a flash she spun the blaster over her shoulder and pointed it at his face, a click engaging the darklight generator inside. The warriors behind him frantically glanced back and forth, unsure to whom their loyalty truly laid.
"Drop your guns, boys, and I'll make sure it's painless," she said, the smoke curling from her nostrils as the grave lotus hit, lighting up her eyes. She heard the clatter of splinter rifles against the cold floor as she stared her quarry in the eye. He slowly lowered his own rifle and placed it on the ground, the red eyes of his helm not leaving her face. Relaxing a bit, she lowered her own blaster.
"What will you do with me?" he asked, his tone low. The warriors behind him backed cautiously away.
Erinyes gave a half smile and pulled his helmet off, revealing the scarred and nicked face of an Eldar who hadn't sated his thirst in weeks. Taking the cigarette from her mouth she pressed it against his forehead, watching his expression screw up as it singed his pale flesh. While he was distracted she squeezed the trigger on her gun, blasting his armored foot into dust. The Sybarite cried out as he fell to the ground, gripping what was left of his missing leg.
"Stop moving, you're making it hard to aim," she said absently as she awkwardly aimed her blaster with one arm. With a crack the Sybarite's arm was blown clean off the edge of the docks, flying into the abyss below.
"You stupid halfborn bitch!" he swore, rolling over as his wound seeped out, "Salendrid will have us all killed!"
"Only if I miss and hit his precious docks," she said, kicking him over, "so stop moving."
He opened his mouth to speak again but she shoved her armored boot in his face, crushing his head against the steel floor. She drank in his suffering as he struggled to move her foot with his one remaining arm, his leg kicking furiously as she dug a plated heel into his throat. At last she pulled her boot away, letting him gasp for precious air through his collapsing windpipe. The other warriors knew better than to interfere with their mistress' punishments, each of them soaking up the pain she inflicted almost as much as she was.
"Beg for mercy, Nisgarien," she said, lowering her blaster once more, "make me believe it."
"I will not beg to a haallllf—" his words were cut off by her gun barrel pressing against his windpipe.
"What's that?"
"Merffy! Merffy my Archhn!" he cried, his lips bleeding from the heated barrel. "I bgh ofh you!"
Erinyes nodded appreciatively, "Very well, Nisgarien." She pulled the trigger and his head exploded, painting the walkway with a spray of blood. It was what he asked for after all. She looked up to the four warriors cowering behind the corpse of their former Sybarite, their armor coated in a thin film of his blood and pulverized bone. Tapping the snuffed end of her cigarette against the tip of her blaster the grave lotus lit again, smoking against the heated metal. Archon Irons took a drag and, her will enforced, placed the gun on her back once more.
"You four, clean this mess up and then meet me back in my lair," she said, pushing what was left of their leader with her toe.
"Yes, my Lady!" they shouted in unison.
The Archon turned around to see her pilot, Kylendris, still standing behind her. His mask obscured his expression but his trembling hands gave away his nervousness. Erinyes breathed deep, rejuvenated a bit after such a vulgar display of terror. "Kyle, have the rest of the Kabal assemble once their festivities are through."
"Y-yes, my Lady!" he stammered.
"And no more clown talk, alright?"