After some time, Anderos went to the back of the ship to see Dolen.

Dolen looked up as the other Eldar entered, already in the process of re-donning his armor. The damage had been thankfully minimal, and his own skills at coaxing the wraithbone of which is was constructed were sufficient to the task.

"A new development?" he asked simply, sliding the gauntlets back into place and curling his fingers to test their fit and fitness.

One had nearly been seared through in his unorthodox distraction of the marines, but the wraithbone had regrown to replace the gentle lines with little complaint.

"It appears that they believe that they know wherein this Aviel may be found," Anderos said. "We are presently en route to a universe called 'Star Wars'. We should arrive there in two weeks, so they say."

Anderos glanced back toward the door to the cockpit uneasily, brushing himself off and shrugging a bit.

"Excellent," Dolen replied absently.

Thoughts of what may transpire in the many weeks it would require to return to the Karzan Empire taunted him. Chaos was not likely to rest in their pursuit of their prey, and the events which passed in the meantime might well turn any hope to ash in such a short span. He shook the melancholy musing off, not having missed the unease in Anderos but preoccupied till now.

"What troubles you, Anderos?" he asked simply. He could make wild guesses and assumptions, but there were advantages to dealing with another of the Eldar, foremost among them being a shared appreciation and understanding of the forms of interaction.

"That Tarna woman. I do not know why she is helping us," Anderos said, lowering his voice somewhat and stepping away from the door and further into the room. "Was she not the one who Sedder had said had escaped?"

"Yes, she was," Dolen responded quietly, understanding the other's unease all too well. "We do not have a multitude of options at this point, however, thus shall we be forced to rely on the unpredictable and unreliable until the situations change." He sighed. "I am no more fond of the idea than you, believe me, but I honestly see no other path to follow. Be wary and ready for any betrayal, though, we are desperate, not fools."

Anderos sighed softly. "This will be a long voyage, I believe," he mumbled. He went back to get some rest as the ship flew on.

"Indeed," Dolen answered with amusement, leaving the other to his rest and moving forward to observe the actions of the other two. Blind trust was not something that grew well in the tainted soil of his own home, the rivers of blood and bitter salt of tears poisoning that ground beyond hope of reclamation. He offered a quiet greeting to the two and settled to wait in as unobtrusive a spot as possible.

Tarna was curled up in the pilot's seat with her legs crossed, her hands outstretched and glowing slightly, appearing in a deep concentration. Theodore was eating popcorn and watching inane cartoons.

Were it not for the knowledge that they already were aware of where next they needed to go, Dolen would likely have rampaged over the seemingly oblivious and lazing pilot. The impulse passed quickly, though not any hint of the distaste associated with the fool, but he did take some pleasure in interrupting his viewing, "We are underway, or soon to be, I presume?"

"Yep," Theodore said over a mouthful of popcorn, bits of it falling out of his mouth, "Tarna's getting us on track with her spiffy Dream Magic. Popcorn?" He offered Dolen the bowl of buttery white stuff.

Dolen glanced at the bowl as though it were some lethal serpent reaching out to strike him, then proceeded to ignore it completely in preference for observing the woman working at the console.

"Very good," he replied shortly, having little inclination to pry into the matter further, at least so long as progress was indeed made in short order. Were it not, then the influence of Chaos would need be assumed, with obvious and violent repercussions.

After a few minutes, a tunnel formed around the ship like the proper wormholes that it tended to create, and Tarna returned her attention to reality.

"Okay, there we go," she said. "I got the wormhole up again so I don't have to get out and push at least." She glanced back and noticed Dolen. "Oh, hello there. I am Tarna Tanson, Dream Ninja, Raven Demon, Death Dancer. How do you do?"

Dolen's attention shifted immediately to the screens as instruments began to chatter their success with the mindless excitement of any happy computer. The woman's return to reality did not immediately register until she moved, and his hand dropped casually to the butt of his pistol as he listened to her greeting. He tilted his head fractionally in acknowledgement, eyes never wavering in their suspicion.

"It is well that you arrived in such a timely manner to aid us," Dolen responded with the faintest hint of suspicious sarcasm. "Particularly seeing as you had vanished from the Eyes of Truth entire while the Chaos infestation was contained."

Tarna stretched luxuriously. "I came where I was needed, where Tzeentch directed me to be," Tarna said brightly. "I don't think I would have managed to find you otherwise. You were quite in the middle of nowhere."

Dolen's eyes narrowed at the mention of one of the names which were not to be spoken, his expression hard and unyielding. "Do not speak of the Foul Ones in my presence, Chaos spawn," he replied with deceptive calm. "Your kind have plagued mine far too long, and it would not distress me greatly to see another of their number returned to your vile master's embrace."

That might yet come, but the tool would not be broken until such a time as he was absolutely certain that its usefulness was ended.

"Geez, what does everyone have against them, anyway? It's better than working for Jami, at any rate," Tarna shuddered a bit. "Not that Jami has really done anything of late but sit around in his basement and stay out of everyone's way, which is probably fortunate all things considered, but he isn't the third worst person in the universe to impersonate for no reason."

Dolen allowed a bitter laugh to escape him, mocking her question. "Why does the universe hate them, you ask? Have you seen what the Foul Gods have done in pursuit of their unholy appetites? I have. Entire worlds have needed cleansing in the wake of their taint, no other option save extinction as they warp and destroy anything within their path. Yet you would have me believe them to be acceptable as a lesser of evils?" He shook his head, "No, there can be no acceptance of evil in any of its forms, spawn. That it is evil is sufficient enough to be eradicated for the greater good of all worlds."

"Clearly you haven't met Jami," Tarna said wryly. "Most Elkandu tend to count only Rhuan and Sardill as being worse than him." She chuckled softly. "But it's not like I exactly decided to follow either of them by choice."

"You dance about the heart of the matter," Dolen replied scornfully, "And I would expect no less of a pawn of those ruinous powers. It matters not that there may be greater evils, that they are a bane of life itself is sufficient cause to deny them any acceptance. You would, I presume, find the devastation which lay in the wake of their arrival upon Sedder's world wholly within reasonable limits. I do not, and never shall."

Tarna shrugged a bit and said, "Suit yourself." She reached over and grabbed some popcorn to munch on.

While she did so, a translucent guy wearing equally translucent clothing vaguely reminiscent of the Renaissance on Terra appeared in front of Dolen. "Greetings!" he said. "I am Duke Rudolf von Milvenhauer, of the world of Wegana. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance!"

"Does no one think to knock?" Dolen asked with facetious exasperation, this place seeming determined to armor him against surprise by inundating his existence with the bizarre. At least it gave him reason to turn away from the subject of Tarna, a most thorny issue indeed. "And to what do we owe the pleasure of this unexpected arrival, Duke Rudolf von Milvenhauer?"

"What? Oh, but I was already here!" He pointed vaguely at the sword Tarna was carrying. "I must say, it's definitely amusing to be seeing more action while I'm dead than I ever did while I was alive! Tut tut..."

Tarna sniggered a bit and ate popcorn.

Any sign of tolerant cordiality vanished at the revelation, Dolen' eyes narrowing as he looked past the new arrival to the woman at the console. "I see. Yet another of the bountiful gifts of the Foul Ones of which you were speaking, I presume?" He shook his head and looked away. "I've no issue with the dead, as we use them as our defenders, but the stench of magic grows wearisome."

"What? I have nothing to do with them!" Rudolf said, looking a little insulted. "I have been dead for hundreds of years. For I had angered a powerful sorcerer so that when he slew me, he bound my soul unto that blade Tarna carries there, so that I may not know rebirth!"

Dolen sighed quietly and allowed the specter to regain his attention. "Regardless, I fear that my opinion is quite influenced by your affiliation with that Chaos spawned abomination. To be in the service of Chaos unwillingly is perhaps the greatest horror of all, one which my own people are sure to rectify should our own ancestral protectors fall in battle against them."

"Tarna is a fine woman and a brave warrior," Rudolf said. "She would never do such as you describe! But regardless of mine own opinions, I could do little even if I so wished to fight against her..."

"There is no gift without price," Dolen retorted. "The Foul Ones may well allow some glimmer of a humane nature to exist for a time, but know that their path leads farther and deeper in the depths of the abyss. One day soon, if not already, you will find yourself beholden to a monster. Does that please you, spirit? If not, do you think your master or her vile brethren care in the least?"

"And what do you expect me to do? Pop up in front of her and say 'Boo'?" Rudolf sighed, shook his head, and faded from sight.

Tarna just looked at Dolen quietly. Theodore finished up with the popcorn.

Dolen offered an edged smile to Tarna's quiet appraisal. "Does that worry you? It should. You may think yourself the master, or at the least a servant with free will, but there is no such thing when dealing with the Foul Gods. You shall find that soon enough, as countless other doomed and twisted souls have found over the ages. Perhaps we shall even meet across a field of battle someday, and I shall not recognize your form at all."

"They would have killed me otherwise," Tarna murmured. "Or worse. I didn't choose to be a demon, either, but after being imprisoned in the Abyss, there wasn't any other way to escape... The demons would have held me there as a sex slave until they got bored of me. I wasn't willing to accept that. Don't think I was mad or power-hungry like certain others were..."

"Then in that, you have my pity," Dolen said with sincerity. "Your tale, though perhaps more extreme, is no different from the fate of millions who have fallen to their foul hungers. It may seem harmless at first, the first mutating 'blessing' may even be useful, but Chaos does not play well with its toys. We Eldar have gone to great lengths since the Fall to assure that we do not so end as prey." He touched the stone at his breast. "We know the damnation waiting for us in the Warp, the horror of the Devourer thirsting for our souls. I warn you not to speak so glibly the name of the foul ones, lest you draw their eye and their favor."

Tarna looked at him oddly and said, "I already told you. I'm a raven demon. Do you know what this means, to the Elkandu?" She closed her eyes for a moment, and transformed into a black demon with a barbed tail, razor-sharp claws, horns, and clawed wings. She opened her eyes again and looked at him. "And that was two years ago!"

Dolen was kneeling in an instant, the pistol he'd idly toyed with appearing in his hand and pointing steadily at the aberration. "Then you know of which I speak," he bit out, restraining the impulse to attack by only the thinnest thread. "Yet would have me believe that their caress is harmless? Deceit of self and others is second nature to those forces, but I know the truth of their lies and shall not bow to them. Ever."

Tarna looked at him quietly for a moment, and concentrated, turning back into a human with clearly more effort than it took to turn into a demon. "Did I ever claim anything was harmless?" Tarna sighed softly. "I would not be so foolish."

Dolen did not fail to note the difficulty in returning to a normal form, watching unmoving until it was complete and only then slowly rising and returning the weapon to its holster. "You have my pity," he reiterated, "But you have nothing more than that. Better to be destroyed or tormented for eternity than to succumb to their vile blandishments. At least in that, there is the possibility of holding onto yourself, and honor."

"Ascended Elkandu have a natural form to which they can shift with only the slightest effort, on a moment's notice," Tarna explained slowly. "Angels, demons, and a few other types that are much more rare. But that's neither here nor there - It's been so long before Chaos came to our worlds." Tarna looked off at nothing. "You underestimate, however, the resourcefulness of the Elkandu. There are ways..."

"If they may truly destroy the Chaos Gods," Dolen replied with little evidence of belief, "Then shall I grant that there may be ways." He fell to silence for a few moments, perhaps drawn to some compassion by the sense of regret in the woman. "There is evidence that even Gods may die, as did the greater number of those which my people followed, devoured by the greatest among the Chaos Lords. Take what hope you may out of that, if it is your desire. Seek to retain your grasp upon what remains of yourself and outlive them, if indeed that may come to pass. I do not know, for such workings are far beyond the ken of a simple soldier."

"The Elkandu have destroyed the universe, and rebuilt it again. They've changed time itself. They can create life out of nothing, and restore life to the dead. One Elkandu cursed me on a whim for knocking over his beer, to constantly attract trouble and to be instantly healed and teleported to another world upon death. When it was finally broken, I had died countless times..."

Dolen settled wearily back into a chair with a sigh. "Then perhaps they may yet destroy the Chaos Gods, though one must wonder when even this place's gods of life and death are supplanted by the Fiends. Did they remake the Chaos Gods in their working of the universe, or did they simply recreate the same physical existence while greater powers lurked and waited in the Warp beyond?"

"Gods of life and death?" Tarna wondered in confusion. "Oh, the Karzan gods. The Elkandu gods are fucked up, I tell you. But the only one anyone hears much about anymore is Shazmar, and he's a nut. Always dropping dildos and giggling at people randomly. Strange chappy."

"There is reason to doubt their omnipotence," Dolen mused thoughtfully, remembering his conversation with the doubtless insane Emily. "I have heard it said that a number of these Elkandu's greatest power bound their powers together to work the remaking of existence, but the best which they could accomplish in the case of the Foul Gods was to bind them from setting it all to destruction once more."

Mortality was a little considered topic among the Eldar, their long lives ending most often in a most violent fashion, but pondering the mortality of Gods? A most interesting avenue of thought.

"Who then, are the true Gods?" Dolen mused. "Are there, in fact, any such 'true' Gods, or is existence merely varying degrees of the mortal coil?"

"That's one topic the Elkandu have been pondering for some time, especially as many of the more powerful Elkandu would easily be called gods by some. Such as Sardill," Tarna muttered bitterly. "I don't even know what the limits of his power are... He tends to do what most people would consider impossible with just a wave of his hand..."

"To the primitives of a lost world," he replied distantly, memory surfacing, "Faced with fires from the skies and strange beings clad in impenetrable garb, they look upon those newly arrived as Gods." He returned from the distance, smiling sadly. "I remember such a world once, long ago, one of the lost colonies of the Mon'Keigh, forgotten in time and rediscovered only by chance. The experience was quite unforgettable."

His expression hardened, the remainder of the memory surfacing.

"But the Gods are not always beneficent, as those descendants of our long-time foes found at the end of star cannon and bright lance, their numbers decimated in an orgy of destruction, gluttony in the name of 'survival'."

The last was nearly spat out, orders given and obeyed tarnishing the spirit from the distant past. He raised a hand, sweeping it aside in a gesture of dismissal.

"More to the point," he continued, "The gods are rarely infallible or truly as omnipotent as lesser beings may think, and even the more powerful my be splintered and their essence devoured as was the Avatar of my people. Perhaps such shall arise here."

Tarna listened absently, staring off at the floor but not really seeing it, paying more attention to what he was saying than in the pattern of the floor panels. "Legend has it that there were other gods... I don't know what happened to them, though. They might still be around, waiting, or sleeping... Avatar?" she wondered, hoping for details.

"Yes, the Avatar of Khaine the Bloody-handed," Dolen replied grimly, "We Eldar yet use the ritual to summon him forth in times of direst need, surrendering the life of one of our own that a nigh unstoppable engine of destruction might awaken and stride before us into battle. More than one incursion of Chaos has been staved off by that might behemoth, a jagged swath cut through their hearts by his burning blade. It is said that long ago, before the Fall, Khaine guided and watched over us, and when the Devourer and the other Chaos Gods spilled forth as a plague he stood against them. Countless tales are spun of the battle which ensued, though I am quite certain that none who might have witnessed it survived. In the end, Khaine was overcome, splintered into shards which each Craftworld carried with them that he might walk once more."