Craftworld Ulthwe
Standing before farseer Helonin, he was once again reminded of just how powerful the farseers felt. Even here, surrounded by the Infinity Circuit, he could still feel the farseers potent psychic powers pulsing. Having just finished telling him of their vision, he stood in careful consideration, while they waited for him to give voice to his thoughts.
They currently stood in a chamber utilized by the farseers to divine the meaning of prophecies. The chamber was spacy, holding enough room for advisors to assist the farseer, if needed. Sitting commendations were available, grown out of the wraithbone floor.
"Are there any more to this prophecy?" the farseer asked.
Amorar felt the psychic energies projected from Ilnera as she shared the vision they had seen. Helonin closed his eyes, giving the vision all of his attention, looking at every single detail, searching for any hidden meanings they could have overlooked. The farseers had centuries if not millennia of experience and a unique relationship with the art of divination, so having a farseer look over a prophecy would always be a boon.
"I know this planet," Helonin finally said. "It was a sanctuary for the Great Enemy until it was wiped out by our kin of Al-Samah. I cannot see how they tie into this, but it seems our cause of action will be to wait for their arrival. "
The two warlocks bowed to the farseer's wisdom and left the farseer to search for more clues.
Sword of Khaine
Sleep. She just wanted a . She had gotten a small window after the meeting with the exarchs, yet she had been unable to sleep. Too many echoing screams of the dying. Now she was on her way to another meeting with the remnants of the ruling council. She was going through the corridors of the ship, trying to not look to beaten. The mariners and guardians gave a small bow as she went by, before carrying on with whatever they were doing. She wondered if they hated her. Would she blame them? She hadn't reached a conclusion when she arrived at the meeting room.
It hadn't been built for this purpose. It was intended as a place to talk with delegates of foreign powers. Now it would be used to discuss their own safety.
The others already here looked just as tired as she felt and she spared a quick thought as to whether she had the same hopeless look. She greeted the others as an equal and took her seat.
With her sat the Supreme Admiral Oralath and the farseers Menyl and Onesya.
"Admiral, how close are we to the gate?" Menyl asked the admiral.
"We are nearing the webgate and all ships are prepared to transfer, honoured farseer." Oralath answered him.
"Good. Are the exarchs ready?" Onesya asked Yldaleth.
"The exarchs stand ready to defend the fleet from the drukhari. However, many aspect warriors are having trouble donning their war-masks. They will need rest to reignite Khaine's hatred." She were about to add something but held her mouth.
"Something you wish to say, autarch?" Menyl inquired. Never could hide much from the farseers.
"I spoke with my old mentor, exarch Gilfarion. He blames you for what has happened. He's chosen to leave us. He believes he will avenge the lost."
"And what do you think, autarch?"
To this, she was confused. The farseers should already know what she thought. Was it a test? To see if she was honest?
"The wayward exarch has chosen a path that will destroy him. I'm more concerned about the other exarchs. If they too will begin questioning your decisions."
A smile crossed the lips of Menyl. It was a smile she donned when someone were in need of guidance.
"Do not worry about them, Yldaleth. They will understand our situation, and they will serve our people in our time of need. As for your old mentor. As you yourself said, he will only bring destruction on himself. He has burdened you for too long with his distrust. He thought you weak, yet he is the one leaving. Now go, see to the preparation of the exarchs."
"As you wish, honored farseer."
Yldaleth left the room. They were right. She had a job to do, and contemplating the decisions of Gilfarion would only get in her way.
He knew he had to travel light. He would need a vehicle as well. Something fast. Preferably, something like… that! As he approached the scout jetbike, he quickly went over the things he had packed for the journey. On his back, he carried a bag filled with food and water. Though he might be lost in Khaine's sight he still needed sustenance. On his belt he carried plasma grenades and spare ammunition for the shuriken catapult mounded on his armors vambrace. In his hand, he carried the power glaive he'd used since his tutoring under the phoenix lord. Quickly loading his bag and fastening his power glaive to the side, he looked around to make sure the vehicle bay was empty. Everything should be ready for transit, but there were always someone behind schedule. Not seeing anybody, he finished loading and mounted the bike.
He'd only used a jetbike once, some two or three millennia ago, but he'd like to actually get somewhere. Booting it up, he took out a map of the webway. He didn't know where his prey was, but everything he knew about it spoke of looking back at what they might have missed in the past. The craftworld has faced the Great Enemy's worshippers only a few decades before their attack. Hopefully, there'd be some clue there as to where he could begin. Packing away his map, he activated a webgate and set off.
Unknown
Dead bodies. Dead bodies everywhere. Fallen, yet laying in a beautiful pattern, ancient stains of blood working into the pattern like the coloring of a painting.
"You're just gonna stand there and enjoy the scenery or are you coming?" A voice called out, though the source were nowhere to be seen.
The first figure headed off and once again, the land became quiet.
A/N
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That took some time. School mostly. Otherwise something was always in the way.
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I don't own 40k, only my own characters.
SD signing off...