Tessarl crouched next to two broken corpses. One, a daemonette, lay headless, with one of its claws sheared cleanly in half. It's disembodied head grinned despite the emptiness Tessarl saw in its eyes. The daemonette apparently found enjoyment in its death. To the right laid the daemonettes mount. Tessarl's warp beast had torn a ragged wound into the things long neck to take it down. She made short work of the rider afterwards. Her beast however had not come out unscathed. The mount had kicked out defensively with its legs, eviscerating her warp beast as it tore out the mounts throat. She watched as the beast rested amongst its own looping entrails. It would be no use to her now.

These hunters had been on her trail ever since she egressed from the lost battle. Seekers they were called. Their mounts could home in on ones desires; namely her desire to escape. How did one mask their desires? Tessarl had asked herself this question when she realized her peril. She simply accepted that she couldn't, and decided to turn the tables on her hunters and hunt them. They weren't fools though. At best, Tessarl could only hope for an equal fight. Taking them by surprise was nearly impossible. Her warp beasts bore the brunt of the punishment, and now she had none left.

She was close now. The gate was barely two miles away, and she didn't get the feeling that any more seekers were in the immediate area. This could change quickly, but for now she had a reprieve, a chance to clear her mind for a moment. Staying aware for so long was mentally taxing, even for her. She took a moment to take a knee, to feel her surroundings. She glanced at the dispersing corpses of the daemons. They were slowly being absorbed back into the warp. The light in the eyes of her warp beast had faded also, its life expended. It's body would not disperse however, since it was built from the bones and tissue of once mortal creatures, and then possessed by a daemonic essence. She ignored these things now, as they were little more than distractions. She took time to listen, to smell, and to look. She had to make sure there were no more threats. Impatience was the enemy.

Satisfied, she began to formulate the last leg of her escape. Two miles to go, give or take a few yards. The terrain was hilly and arid, with scattered rock outcrops. It would slow her, but it offered great cover and concealment. She was hungry, but not significantly weakened. Her thirst represented something more urgent. Without water she would be dead in hours. She regarded the dead warp beast, crouching next to it. She produced a blade from a sheath on her boot, and cut across an artery in the beasts neck. She drank what fluid was left, a little trick she had learned from previous raids. It would keep her hydrated long enough to reach the gate. It was time she got moving. Rising, she began to move in the direction of two large stands of rock. She would travel between the pass, and about a mile past that, the gate should be waiting.

Hours passed, and she had reached her destination. She scanned her surroundings for a long time, choosing to hide near the base of a ridge. This would be a perfect place for her to be ambushed. Most of the daemons that had pursued her exhibited a habit of tracking directly to her. They didn't show any inkling towards thinking ahead and springing a trap. They didn't have the patience. Still, the thought of her simply walking up to the gate unscathed seemed to good to be true. She couldn't rule out the possibility that a smarter, more patient seeker couldn't have made it here before her, even now waiting for Tessarl to misstep. Another fight may prove to be one too many. She was weak now and had the added loss of all her warp beasts. In the end, she supposed, none of this mattered. She would have to expose herself in order to activate the gate.

It wasn't visible of course. All gates were well concealed with cloaking. But she knew where it was, she could feel it. And it rested out in the open, completely exposed to anyone watching. She had to venture out there eventually. It was dark now, and that would help. She was resolved, she would simply have to make a break for it. She broke from her cover, dashing behind any rock big enough to conceal her. She moved like this until there was no cover left, and sprinted to where the gate was. She immediately settled into a crouch, trying to control her breathing and take in her surroundings. Nothing came charging at her, no unholy screams of the damned followed by scything claws and a violent death. Wasting no time, she began the ritual of opening. She made rapid hand signs, muttering the necessary phrases that would activate the gate. Only those of considerable power and influence amongst the dark kin knew how to open webway gates. How Tessarl had come across such coveted knowledge? She kept that a closely guarded secret.

She completed the ritual, and waited. It didn't take long for the gate to open. It wasn't anything flashy or obvious, no light show or catastrophic ripping of time space. Eldar technology was of course, more subtle. All that anyone would notice was a slight, vertical ripple. It was easier to see if she looked at it through her peripheral vision. The device itself always remained cloaked. Everything was geared towards concealment and subterfuge where eldar were involved. Tessarl stood up and headed toward the open gate at a jog, her deliverance close at hand. She wouldn't reach it.

She felt it before she heard it. It felt like something blunt struck her back, almost knocking the wind from her lungs. This was quickly followed by a searing pain that she could distinctly feel as it quickly spread across her back and into her limbs. She looked behind her, briefly trying to see what struck her. There was nothing. She still kept her forward momentum, she was so close to the gate! But she stumbled, spasms overcoming her motor functions. She lay on the ground, now all but helpless, her muscles violently contracting all over her body. As she writhed, she noticed something glinting amongst the splatter of her own blood. It was a small shard of crystal. No, more like a crystal splinter. Through gritted teeth, she let out a howl of rage. Betrayal! Of all the way she expected to die on this world, it was the last thing she considered. She thought all of the rest of her kin had died in that last, desperate bid for escape.

A familiar form coalesced out of the surrounding gloom. Tall and lithe, clad in the typical black armor of his profession, the warrior slowly approached the paralyzed wych. Tessarl laughed bitterly at herself. She was a peerless warrior. It was she who had bested Acacia the skin-flayer in only her fifth arena bout. It was she who hunted and killed the Autarch Nasirin, along with his entire bodyguard. It was Tessarl who defeated the herald of an entire daemon host in single combat! And now she lay here, defeated by a mere warrior! It didn't matter that he had stalked her, striking from the shadows like a coward. It's what she would have done. That he displayed a greater ability at fieldcraft and patience than her gulled Tessarl to no end. She was the consummate hunter; nothing hunted her, ever! Even when they believed they were doing so.

"Warrior…your…name…I would have it." Tessarl said, with great effort.

Ghost regarded her for a moment, considering the question. He saw no reason to answer. She would be dead soon. He moved passed the wych, a growl issuing from her as he passed. He had known where this particular gate was located, but not how to open it. He was content to wait for the Archon and his forces to push through the daemon horde and open the gate. Instead, this wych showed up. Apparently the Archon was not successful. Wychs were dangerous, unpredictable. She was just as likely to kill him as allow him to accompany her on an escape. He didn't take the chance. Death was simply not an alternative.

Ghost moved quickly towards the waiting gate, when something else happened. Something was emerging from the gate. Not just one, but many. Lithe sinuous forms, sporting elegant arms that ended in long, curved claws. A pall of musk reached Ghosts nostrils, a familiar smell. Behind him, a ragged laugh rose from where the wych lay. Ghost ignored her, turning his attentions back to the daemons, who so suddenly dashed any hopes of his escape. They apparently infiltrated the local web tunnels. There was no way out now. Ghost wanted to face down his death bravely, head held high and defiant. It felt shallow. He knew what was next…what awaited all of his kind when they died.

The daemons advanced, sprinting excitedly at the doomed eldar. Each leered at Ghost and Tessarl with lewd, lust-filled eyes. Ghost wasted no time in opening fire with his splinter rifle. He would never kill them all. He was resolved, however, to go down fighting. They would not take him alive. He refused to be their plaything, some object for them to torture before they ended his life. No, he would never allow that. He had an eternity of torture too look forward to when he was dead, after all.