Arhriban sat cross-legged atop one of the the pinnacles that naturally spiraled up from the set of caves the Harlequin Troupe was using as their temporary headquarters. Though only given a two day advance before they would be moving out, the high warlock didn't possess very many belongings that couldn't be carried on his person, and so packing for their travels was of his least concerns. For now, the sorcerous Eldar simply wished to be left alone.
Before Jester's assembly could even come to an end, Arhriban retreated back to the den he was currently using as his private chambers. He attempted to meditate inside the secluded alcove, but found it difficult to concentrate. The warlock went pacing about the dark cavern, his steps echoing with every fall, when it finally occurred to him that he was restless because of the cave itself. Being cooped up inside the same glorified hole for nearly three months had nearly driven him insane, and Arhriban worried that he may eventually become as mad as Jester. Furthermore, it seemed as though he couldn't get a moment to himself no matter how hard he tried. With Jester running off somewhere - as was his usual routine - as well as his chief officer, Countess nowhere to be found, most of the troupers came to Arhriban's cave to pester him with their questions.
The high warlock's eyebrow twitched in agitation beneath the mask. This was what really frustrated him the most about traveling with the Troupe's enigmatic leader. He would convince dozens of Harlequins to follow him at any one time, but he was hardly ever around to actually lead them anywhere in the first place; that he left to those who had been around the longest, as well as his officers. The only time Jester ever came forth to lead the troupers anywhere, was when they were heading into battle, and that was only because he wanted to rack up the highest amount of kills.
When he finally had enough of being cooped up inside his cave, as well as dealing with whiny pests, Arhriban made for the upper levels of the pillar he and the other warlocks and seers were using. Looking out over the entire desert, the high warlock was pleased with the amount of sight this new elevation afforded him, and being surrounded by nothing but the open air was refreshing for his mind.
Arhriban took the mask off and put it down at his side. The features of his face were sharp - much like a bird of prey - and his eyes were narrowed into a dark stare. Just as was the case with Jester and Countess, his skin was flawless and his tone jaw hinted at a strong physique as well; unlike them however, he was a darker shade of grey, with purple eye and smooth white hair that was drawn back into a tight ponytail. With a miserable groan the warlock put his hands over his face and lightly fell onto his back to stare at the empty sapphire sky above.
He lied there for some time, allowing the gentle breeze to caress him as though it were a tender lover. His own breathing was slowed, for fear that he may break the fragile moment of tranquility that he finally managed to find in the desert wasteland. Meanwhile, Arhriban's thoughts were turned toward his time on the planet.
Three months, three whole months and this fool hasn't done a damn thing to secure us a passage off of this miserable planet; all he's done is kiss up to that pathetic Mon'Kai. I swear, if I didn't need to eat as well, I'd have stopped organizing the hunting parties weeks ago! And it's not just Jester either! These mindless imbeciles are just like children, it's as though they need their hand held for every little thing they do. No wonder Jester takes off without warning; all his troupes are good for is soaking up bullets while we do all the real work… What happened to the days when we could take pride in being an Eldar? I dare say that the Imperium has finally achieved a level of greatness our people could never strive for. At least they've formed a successful empire, and their people are loyal to their emperor.
I was hoping Jester would have been more eager to come into a position true power - he certainly has the aptitude for planning that would allow him to obtain such goals. I thought he was simply playing the part of the fool for appearances sake, but the idiot truly seems fixated on destroying everything! The Harlequins following him are lame-brained and can't think for themselves; they may as well be the living dead. Countess is the only other Eldar here who's shown an aptitude for being useful, but she's only interested in helping our leader…but what's the alternative?
The Imperium despise our kind just as much as the Orks and Chaos, and the rest of my people are utterly senseless! The Harlequins are fixated on just surviving and doing their damn plays, the corrupt are too busy fucking their own brains out and pleasuring that whore goddess Slaanesh, and the rest of the Eldar are obsessed with tradition and terrified that they wouldn't be able to control their own temptations - cowards, of course I couldn't stay there. We were, and still are, the rightful rulers of this universe, but nobody has any ambition to reach out and claim that which belongs to us!
The Orks, Chaos, Imperium, Slaanesh and the other fallen gods…all of them should be bowing down to us! It's a disgrace that we've fallen so far that I need to scavenge around with these aimless wretches!
A loud boom of thunder rumbled from somewhere in the distance. As Arhriban sat back up, the pillar beneath him started to lightly shake as what sounded like a dull and constant grumble caused him to perk up. No, not thunder, it was an explosion, and a powerful one at that.
The high warlock looked off into the distance where he presumed the noise to have been. Several miles away was a mess of ravines and stalagmites, which, from a distance, almost resembled a dried out thorn bush. One of the great stone pillars sticking out from the midst of the ravines was presently collapsing onto its side, which explained what as causing the slow rumble. Even from this great distance, Arhriban could spot plumes of dust and dirt flying into the air, and pouring into the desert wastes surrounding the massive rock formation. The warlock rose to his feet and placed both of his hands around his eyes as though he were looking at the ravine from one end of a stretching tunnel.
His vision suddenly shifted closer to the area, and he was able to move about more freely as if he were a bird. Arhriban was initially worried that the explosion may have been caused by some military attack, but quickly tossed that idea out the window since the Troupe had done nothing that would have warranted the Imperium's attention - for the settlers on this planet possessed no artillery that he was aware of. He strained his mind to pick up the presence of life, and quickly caught on to the energy signature of two Eldar he was greatly familiar with.
So that's where those two went… Great, I hope they realize that I'll have to settle things down over here now thanks to their games.
The high warlock returned his free conscious to the confines of his body. He walked to the edge of the pinnacle he'd been lying on for the last several hours in bliss, and jumped off; however, rather than fall, he gently floated down to one of the lower levels where the other warlocks would be. Once he touched down it didn't take long for one of the seers under his command to seek him out.
"High Warlock Arhriban, we heard the explosion. Was it an enemy attack?"
"No, it was only Jester and our leading officer. They've holed themselves up in some ravines several miles away from our position."
"Why would they have done that?"
"So am I to understand that you'd prefer they held their combat practice in the place that we're staying? If so, I can tell them your wishes upon their return…" Arhriban shook his head at the lesser sorcerer as the man stammered to recover from the idiotic question. "Now, if you're finished asking me senseless questions, feel free to tell the others that there's nothing to worry about, and to continue packing up so we can move out on schedule."
Before making his way back into the miserable confines of his den for the evening, the high warlock looked out past the ridge. The setting sun cast an orange glow over the desert, and the sand glistened as if it were a sea of gold. Admittedly, he was almost touched by how beautiful the sight of it was…but not enough for his mood to be lifted.
While Jester awaited the return of Countess with his hat, he had taken to spinning about in circles on one foot and then the other. He was particularly enjoying his efforts to balance on the very edge of the ridge that he'd taken his officer by surprise on when she finally did return, her manner of entrance most unpleasant. Grabbing him by the cuff of his collar, the Eldar woman tugged hard on his coat and brought the master mime falling flat on his back.
"Damn it! What makes you thi-" He was cut off as Countess dropped the hat atop his face and he let out a high-pitched squeak of joy. "My hat! You actually found my hat!"
Jester plucked it from his face as he sat up and turned it over in his hands. While brushing off specks of dirt he came across the bullet hole, and gently rubbed his fingers over the frayed opening. "A little worse for wear, but nonetheless still part of my ensemble! Was it difficult to locate?"
Countess crossed her arms before shaking her head. "Not particularly. I remembered where I first shot at you, and, luckily for me, most of the upturned rock and dirt fell in the same direction that the pillar new lays. Still, I am more or less shocked that you actually sent me to go fetch that hideous thing."
"Ah, ah, ah," he said while wiggling a finger from side to side. "Let's not go name calling now. Sleeping together tonight would be much more of a hassle if we were at each other's throat - actually, that sounds like a bit of fun."
"Who says we're sleeping in the same cave?"
"Ooooh, Hide and Go Seek?"
"I need to get a better jump on you…" She said in an irate tone.
"Hey, we weren't going to do another ambush scenario, that's not what we agreed upon! You need to get better and hand to hand combat, so that's what we'll be doing tomorrow."
"I personally think you just want to do something you know you'll win at."
"Perhaps, it would certainly be easier, but we're going to have a huge party soon and it would be in our best interest if you brushed up on your close quarters combat ability."
"Is fighting the only thing you take serious?"
"Who says I take it serious?"
Countess sighed as she unsheathed the sword on her back. It was a dark and curved blade with several additional points extending close to the pommel of the handle. Initially the blades design made little sense to her - and it still didn't - for she wondered what such teeth would be doing on a sword meant for slashing and cutting. That's exactly why I think it suits you, because it isn't traditional. The mime's words that he spoke upon presenting the sword to Countess rang through her head as she held it up in the dying sunlight. She found the sleekness of the metal almost mesmerizing, a pool of perfect black ink; as dark as tar, yet capable of reflecting the gleam of the orange sun…like oil dumped into the and set ablaze.
She spent so long musing over how best to use such a blade that she didn't even realize that Jester had abandoned her. She walked over to the edge and peered over, where, sure enough, the mime was already down at the bottom levels looking back at her with that smiling mask.
She shook her head and holstered the weapon before beginning her descent into the ravines.
