Addendum 4: Character profile.
Leon Wolfgang Hauptmann/Valentine Windsong (Valenthinel Shelwereth in Eldar Lexicon).
Faction: Grey Knights. Despite being part of the Grey Knights faction, Valentine Windsong can be fielded as a detachment on his own. In which case, he neither is Scoring nor can he join another unit.
Cost: 300 points.
Force organisation slot: Lord of War.
Unit type: Jump Infantry (Character).
Stats: WP6, BS6, S4, T4, W6, I4, A4, LD10, Sv2+.
Wargear:
Dragonscale Armour: An Artificer Armour that can self-repair, giving the user ability to re-roll one armour saving throw per phase. Due to its immense weight, Windsong loses 2 Initiative points (already included in the profile) and cannot benefit from Fleet Special Rule.
Kusanagi the Spirit Breaker: A Diresword carrying the soul of Valentine Windsong's deceased mother, this weapon was lost in the Warp after it was used to banish a Bloodthirster. As the fickleness of the Warp would have it, Kusanagi materialised a century later, still embedded in the heart of the dead Bloodthirster, and was recovered by the Grey Knights who then reforged it. Kusanagi is a Dire Sword (see Codex: Craftworld Eldar) with Force Special Rule. Attempts to manifest Force by the wielder cannot be denied, and once Force is activated, the weapon gains Shred Special Rules.
Meltagun.
Personal Teleporter.
Frag grenades.
Metla bombs.
Psy-out grenades.
Psychic Hood.
Storm Shield.
Universal Special Rules: Counterattack, Eternal Warrior, Fearless, Hammer of Wrath, Hatred (Kharn the Betrayal), Hit-and-run, Move through cover, Preferred Enemies (Dark Eldar and Daemons) Psyker (Mastery Level 3 - Pyromancy and Santic Daemonology), Rampage.
Unique Special Rules:
Psychic imperviousness: Through blessings from his secret patron and extensive, if not dangerous, mental training, Valentine Windsong is immune to the ill-effects of the Warp, making his gift as a psyker harm-free. He gains Adamantium Will and is unaffected by Warp Storm. Additionally, all Peril of the Warp result is treated as 5.
The bigger they are, the harder they fall: A one-man army, Valentine Windsong needs to find ways to take down colossal foe from gigantic Tau battle mechs to renegade Imperial Knights with what resources he has at his disposal. When Valentine Windsong inflicts D3 Wounds or Hull Points against Gargantuan Monstrous Creatures or Superheavy Vehicles, the result is always 3.
All doubts in the White Hero dissipated from Levantia's mind seeing how he had been thorough in clearing a path for him and his men. The corridors ran red with Dark Eldar blood as bodies, pieces of bodies and what seemed to have been once pieces of bodies laid scattered in the wake of his destruction. Not all of them had been cut clean, however, as quite a few looked like they had been ripped out or squashed with tremendous force or burned to crisp even though the walls, floors and ceilings still felt cold as ever. Before, the carnage hung on these walls spoke of cruel artistic and sadistic pleasuring, trophies of past victories taken to inspire as much as to entertain those who walked along the hallway; now, there was nothing but untamed violence on display. For whatever reason, while he had not truly appreciated the crude forms of arts that foot soldiers of the Dark Eldar could come up with, utterly inferior to what Crox showed him, there was a part of him that felt sad that they had gone.
Perhaps there was still a way to salvage this. If only….
Levantia snapped out of it, realising his men were looking at him with some concern. His attention to details sometimes left him distracted from other matters. So many things were happening and so little time left. How could he be so foolish as to indulge in art at a time like this?
"Are you all right?" asked Dividus. "You seemed to be dozing off there."
"I am fine," Levantia replied as stern as he could, though his voice was visibly shaking.
"You do not sound like that," said Dividus. "This is hard for you to accept, isn't it? We follow you because we have no choice and even I was sceptical at first. I was wrong. You are a true believer, aren't you?"
Levantia sighed deeply. His arguments so far with Dividus had not been in his favour, so he conceded, "It is. Before coming to this place, my thought on the Dark Eldar was that they were the lowest scum anywhere in the universe, with concepts of mercy and honour all but unknown to them. However, my time here had changed my opinion. When I made to Sybarite, my dream was to show the Dark Eldar that humans are not inferior lifeforms like they always thought, that we could fight and bleed and die and revel in destruction alongside them. I trusted the Archon. I had other friends among the Dark Eldar as well. And now…now I do not have them anymore."
"You still have Yanarr and me," Darelyn cheered him up. "And the others as well." She indicated the twenty or so humans and Dark Eldar who had switched side.
Levantia nodded. She was right. Regrets would get him to nowhere. If he had been able to finally break free his mind from the Imperial Creed that had for decades been shaping it, then this was an easy task. There was no reason to despair over this. Just as he had traded his forgiveness for Felia to stop lamenting about the damage she caused to the races of the universe by revealing the future to the Dark Eldar, this was another situation where Levantia knew he could not win it all. He just had to win what mattered. As long as Darelyn, Felia, Bruno, Yanarr, Dividus and all of his friends with him, everything was going to turn out fine.
"True," Levantia admitted, steeling himself. "Well, I guess I got a bit out of character back then. Will not happen again."
Darelyn leant over to kiss him. "Sure it won't. So, what do you want when we get out of here? Large or medium size?"
"How about we discuss that until after we get out of here?" said Levantia.
"That's no fun," Darelyn pouted. "I suppose it would give you the motivation to do your part better if you know what is in store for you. Large size it is."
Before Levantia could protest, Darelyn kissed him again, silencing him. She then broke off with a mischievous smile and headed over to the front of the formation. Levantia was stunned.
"You want a relationship like that?" asked Bruno, eyebrows cringing. "Being dominated by a xeno female?"
"Love can be painful sometimes," Levantia replied. It went without saying that Darelyn's meek and shy nature when he first encountered her was gone for good. His conversation with her in the elevator during the Tyranid attack must have awoken her inner daemon like the sunflower blooming under the sun. It was a splendid thing too, as he needed a strong personality to help him with Felia who had yet to recover from the obscenities she was subjected to by the Archon. "One day when you find that woman, you will understand, Bruno. That is if you do not accidentally smash her to a thousand pieces first."
"If she can be smashed into a thousand pieces so easily, then she is definitely not my type," said Bruno.
The platoon matched through the scene of ruination facing no resistance whatsoever. Even most the traps had all but been disabled or already activated. Nevertheless, Levantia could never be too sure and ordered his men to remain in formation and advance with caution just in case they were in for a nasty surprise, something that occurred all too often on the Eternity of Torment. Some of the Dark Eldar could not resist themselves and began plundering the piles of corpses for some loot, until Yanarr re-established discipline with a few bangs on the head and ear-pulling. Better weapons and war accessories, however, were picked up here and there, and that was the only thing allowed.
Looking at the bloodbath, Levantia realised the claustrophobic interior of this ship which was made to give an advantage to the side with less number but more elite troops had unwittingly lent the White Hero the edge in this fight. Considering how fast he could move with that arcane device allowing him to teleport, there was no way the Dark Eldar could catch up to him and he would simply pick them off one by one. Even if they gather a large enough army to threaten him, the White Hero still had the option of avoiding them and sabotaging parts of the ship that had been undermanned as a result of the gathering.
Tactically, the Eternity of Torment, while proving effective in stemming the Tyranid advance, would now become the grave for the Kabal of the Shadow Talon. There was no doubt about it.
But still, there were so many questions remained that Levantia had yet to find an answer to, and the fact they existed made him uneasy.
One, how long had the White Hero been planning for this? It must have taken weeks or perhaps months to come up with something so elaborate and all meticulous.
Two, what was he really after? If he only wanted to wipe out the Kabal once and for all, he could have just destroyed the ship. But instead of that, the White Hero had asked to rendezvous with him at the command bridge. What kind of unfinished business he had with the Archon Levantia was dying to know.
Three, how was Darelyn involved in this?
And four, after escaping then what? Would the White Hero help him get the happy ending he wanted with both Felia and Darelyn? Would all his men enjoy the same?
Levantia was surprised at the zeal with which he was chewing on the White Hero's motivation and a genuine meaning of his presence. Back then, he had accepted the Archon's offer with little issue, though that could be partly explained by how desperate he was to get not just himself but also Felia and his overseer comrades out of their deplorable situation at that point. Of course, making deals with the Dark Eldar tended to backfire, and in this case, it finally did when Felia failed to live up to the condition. Even if she had not, it would be only a matter of time before Feharuln showed his true nature as a power-hungry maniac, and sooner or later it would have to get ugly. Such was the thing with powerful figures who (rightfully) considered themselves above and beyond others. And so, despite all the love and admiration he had for the White Hero, Levantia could not help but gaze upon him and look only for clues that might indicate he was not as benevolent as he appeared.
A Wrack walked right in out of nowhere caught everybody momentarily off-guarded. Where he came from did not matter, for there was only one way he was going out of here, and no coffin would be offered. As the rebel Kaballites prepared to shoot him down for his audacity, the Wrack raised his hands, all three of them, and pleaded, "Wait, I am unarmed. I would like to meet Carlos Levantia."
"You," Levantia exclaimed, recognising it was the same Wrack who treated him after the battle against the Tyranid. "Where is Crox? Is he…?"
"The master has fallen fighting the child of the Dragon," said the Wrack. There was a hint of sadness in his voice, though whether these creatures could genuinely feel any emotion at all was not clear, his masked visage as grim as always. "Destruction has come to us like the wrath of Khaine from the heaven. All other servants are dead, but I am spared for a little while because he told me I would be most capable of convincing you."
"Convince me of what?" asked Levantia.
At this point, the Wrack produced a tome from under his robe. It was something that caught Levantia's notice before when he was in the Haemonculus's chamber, yet never grabbed his interest. The book was twice the size of an encyclopaedia and was made from what looked to be processed Greenskin fresh with what was written on the cover undoubtedly blood. As the Wrack pressed this into Levantia's hand, he told him, "This is the master's legacy. All of what he adores and all of what he is. You have been chosen as the one who will continue his work and make sure he shall live forever."
"What?" Levantia snapped. "I-I cannot accept this. No, we all need to get out of here and you are coming with us."
The Wrack shook his head. "My life is already forfeited," he explained. "Within hours I shall suffer a painful death when my time limit expires. Only the Master can prevent it using a special drug."
"There has to be something we can do about it," Levantia insisted. To be honest, he had kind of expected something along the line of that so Crox could make his personal army so fearlessly loyal to him, whereas the Archon's own bodyguards needed to be looked upon with caution even by their master. That, however, did not make it easier to accept the fact someone he knew and who had helped him before was about to meet a tragic end.
"Though your sympathy cannot touch this dry heart, I have some admiration for you," the Wrack replied. "But this is the end of the line for me here. You, on the other hand, will live on. Indeed, you will live forever, and the master's legacy will be preserved within you."
As Levantia hesitated, Bruno stepped in and snatched the tome from the Wrack. He opened it, skimmed through a few pages and then said, "I do not understand what this stuff is about, but I know for sure whatever knowledge in here is bad stuff. Very bad. I say we burn it."
"Burn it? Is that the only thing your tiny brain could come up with, Mon'keigh?" Yanarr was outraged. "Boss, this is important. That book contains immense power accumulated over thousands of years. It is literally a heritage of the Dark Eldar race. We cannot waste it."
"Both of you, cut it," Darelyn snapped. "Carlos, he is addressing you. It is only fitting that you decide for yourself. Do you really want it?"
Levantia knew he did not have much time to think. His rational side told him to leave behind this abomination and allow it to rot for the rest of time. Bruno was right. Whatever knowledge in there could be more damning than beneficial, much like the power of Chaos which many Inquisitors still claimed to harvest to counter itself. His run-in with Vrok and his deranged experiments consolidated this belief. Not only that, given his lack of understanding of the Eldar language, there was little he could do even if he had the tome at his disposal. On the other hand…
He could not refuse it.
His relationship with Crox had been brief and sketchy at best, but during the hours which they create artworks together, Levantia could feel genuine liking between the two of them, no matter how he tried to ignore that. To let the Haemonculus down was to let down a mutual confidant, something Levantia was loathed to.
It was either his conscience or his rationale.
At this moment, in the belly of the Eternity of Torment, surrounded by the people who loved him, Levantia decided to follow the latter.
"I accept."
"Splendid," the Wrack said. Without further words, he brought the blade up to his throat and slashed his head off, leaving Levantia standing dumbfounded. The rest of the platoon reacted with a mixture of shock and disgust. For a Dark Eldar to commit suicide, it was a sign of either total despair or supreme hope or extreme stupidity. To die was to invite She-Who-Thirsts to consume their very soul which they had spent their entire lives shielding from.
"Let us move on," said Yanarr at long last. "We have a meeting to catch."
At length, the platoon encountered a number of Dark Eldar in armour the colour of bleach setting up barricades in the next open hall. Too busy were they in their task that they did not notice the rebel coming.
"Prepare to attack," Yanarr ordered, and the others readied their weapon. The plan was simple but perfect, with one-hundred percent rate of succeeding: take the enemy down using the element of surprise. These bastards were unlikely to recognise them as rebels due to poor overall communication between parts of the ship and would be caught completely off-guarded.
Even if they were prepared, it was still one against three. Those pitiful barricades made up of furniture and dead bodies would provide them little protection against superior firepower from Levantia's platoon.
Even if they were prepared and had the same number, the reserve troops would stand no chance against the core Kaballite force who were not only better armed but also professionally trained, not to mention Levantia was leading them.
But that was not the plan.
"No, wait," Levantia demurred. "Let's do this another way."
"Should we ignore them and move on?" asked Yanarr. "I believe there is a way around."
Levantia shook his head. "I think we should try to negotiate with them. If we tell them of the imminent destruction of the ship and that following us if the only way to live, I believe they will listen."
"Did you hit your head at some place in the last fight?" Darelyn pressed. "We are all renegades, remember? Our blades and souls are no longer on the same wavelength as theirs."
"True, but they are desperate," Levantia explained. "I know for a fact that a desperate Dark Eldar would do anything to save their skin, no offence to all of you here. We can ask them to join our force as well."
"Why must we lend them aid?" asked Yanarr incredulously. "What could we possibly hope to gain out of this to make up for the wasted time?"
Levantia was at a temporary loss of word. He mulled over as to how to phrase his intention without sounding too outrageous or too difficult for his men to comprehend. The death of Crox and the Wrack who had been treating him had influenced him in this decision. He looked at Felia who was still unconscious on his shoulder and said, "It is not about gaining anything. Those poor bastards there are going to die if we do not help them. After all we have been through, I am loathe to leave them behind like that, not when there is another way. The White Hero does not need our help in any way. With such prowess at his disposal, he could have easily abandoned us all to our fate and gone about on his separate path unabated, but he did not."
"We are in a grim and dark time where we have to conduct monstrous things to survive on a daily basis. However, I refuse to become the monster like so many other good souls have, especially with that time soon to pass for good. You all agreed to help Felia back then. What is the difference now?"
"You are one heck of a person, you know that?" commented Dividus.
"Is this an order?" Bruno drawled in a challenging tone. "Are you going to have us all executed if we disobey?"
"Just a suggestion," Levantia replied. "If you all wish against it, then I will have no choice by to comply."
"Let's just get this over quickly then," urged Darelyn. "Time is lost as we stand around here bickering. I will see that my persuading skills are still relevant on someone not a human."
The platoon finally met up with the group of eleven Dark Eldar who were manning the barricade with a sense of abandon Levantia was all too familiar with in the Tyranid incursion. When Levantia's unit approached, the defenders seemed somewhat relieved, though an expression of disdain was clearly written on them. The rivalry between core troops and reservists persisted even in difficult times.
Yanarr spoke with whoever was in charge and reported back to Levantia, "They say there has been a revolt among the slaves and some parts of the ship has been overrun. No communication has been established with the leadership. Everything is going to hell. They are trying to set up defensive position here for a last stand." The last part seemed a bit unbelievable, as the concept of die hard should be completely non-existent among the Dark Eldar; not only did they lacked the bravery to commend their very souls to She-Who-Thirsts, but their combat tactics which relied on speed and stealth also made this inappropriate. Nevertheless, there seemed to be some form of logic in it given the current state, their lack of understanding of the ship's interior, poor training and overall confusion.
Nothing made sense anymore. It was all mad on board the Eternity of Torment now with all things ugly and stupid about the Dark Eldar exposed, courtesy of the White Hero.
"I do not care what are they planning to, just tell them this ship will not last and they need to come with us if they want to live," Levantia commanded briskly.
"As you said," Yanarr replied dispassionately and went on to negotiate with the reserve troops.
"Let me help," Darelyn chimed in.
As it turned out, the parley did not go as well as Levantia has anticipated. The Dark Eldar manning the barricade responded to the revelation in the most irrational possible manner by attempting to raise arms and fight back, not that it would change their fate even if they somehow managed to come out on top anyway. Whether this bunch was particularly stubborn or idiotic or both was beyond him who could not understand even the slightest of what they were saying, and let his second-in-command and Darelyn took care of business.
Eventually, the reserve troops calmed down from the initial shock, their weapons lowered and their voice more collect. As the situation was made clear to them, they seemed to accept the deal. Unfortunately, before Levantia could give the order to move out, an humanoid high-pitched scream pierced the air like a cannon ball penetrating a drum.
"What the heck is that?" asked Bruno, concerned.
Footsteps could be heard outside the hallway. Lots of them. Like an army of rushing their way. But not the Tyranids, these were humanoid feet.
Coming in fast.
"This looks bad," said Darelyn.
"We should leave this place," shouted Levantia urgently. Overstaying in such a parlous place in the middle of turmoil was a bad idea, but Levantia had let his instinct to help out others get the better of him. He hoped it was not too late to pull out. "Now. Right now! Yanarr, get the men to move. These reservists too."
As the platoon prepared to head to the next hallway, the enemy showed their ugly faces. To call this a rebellion by the slaves would be as total a misunderstanding as calling the entire Horus Heresy a family conflict. These were human slaves they were dealing with all right, but at the same time, they were not those intimidated and broken souls they used to be. One look in their face and the immeasurable rage was palpable. The eyes were red as blood and no sign of humanity was left on them. This reminded Levantia of the plague zombies he had fought before in the cleansing of a Nurgle-infested world. Where zombies shambled at a pitiful pace, these moved with inhuman speed for such frail bodies, literally throwing themselves forward like a swarm Tyranids.
This was definitely not the slaves taking advantage of the turbulence to conduct an uprising; not even in the Tyranid invasion had something remotely similar taken place. The use of some sort of drug to induce this horrific state on them was obvious, just as Felia had been subjected to so that she would fight Levantia to the death. However, it did not look like true love kisses would do these bastards any good right now. Since releasing the slaves at this point would only add further obstacles to the Dark Eldar, there was no doubt the White Hero himself was behind this. For a glorious being, a member of an Astartes Chapter, he was not above using underhanded and despicable tactics to achieve victory.
"Establish formation and open fire," Levantia shouted. He placed Felia on the floor and readied his weapon seeing that they could not outrun the mob of onrushing maniacs, at least not the human Kaballites. "Cut them down. Do not let them get close."
To his relief, Yanarr must have done a superb job training his men using Levantia's method during his absence because as soon as the order was passed and translated, the troops got to two firing lines and let loose volleys after volleys of splinter fire at the foe. To kill his fellow humans did not feel right to Levantia even when he still believed he could begin a career in the Kabal, but these were no longer humans by any definition and slaying them was to bring their abhorrent existence to a merciful end.
The first wave of enemy was cut down quickly. For all their fury and speed, these maniacs were nowhere as resilient as zombies. The second wave fell to the last just as they reached the barricade. The third and final wave hit the barricade like a storm. Though dozens were killed in a matter of seconds, they broke through the makeshift barrier which had been inexpertly constructed (the Dark Eldar being no good at last stand and all) and clawed at the Kaballite soldiers with hands and teeth and whatever blunt objects they could get their hands on. Some of them wielded guns, but they seemed content to use them as no more than clubs.
"Hold fast," Levantia cried as he smashed the jaw of one of the attackers with the butt of his gun. To his left and right, his men were also engaged in vicious close combat against the incoming horde. "We have stared into the maw of the Great Devourers and still live to tell the tale. We shall not die this day, not at the hand of these pathetic degenerates."
As the melee ensued, Levantia could hear intelligible (quite) blabberings amidst the incessant moaning and screaming.
"Hungry. Fresh. Food. Must eat."
"Join us. Feels good."
"Death to traitors and xenos."
"My cabbages!"
For the most part, the Kaballites help the upper hand with the first line holding off the maniacs while the second providing supporting fire. The enemy was getting thinned out, pushed back and Levantia could finally see the end of them.
Suddenly, an explosion somewhere else on the ship shook the entire area with its shockwave and almost everyone was thrown flatly on the floor, Bruno literally crushing one of the assailants in his descent. As the Kaballites scrambled to regain their balance, their foe wasted no time falling upon them like predators. In seconds disciplined defence Levantia had set up become a chaotic brawl. The Kaballites still had better training and close combat weapons, but the ceaseless ferocity of the enemy meant a few were dragged and torn by mobs of raging humans. By the time their comrades cleared enough of the maniacs to reach them, it was already too late and their bodies mauled beyond recognisable.
Levantia shot an enemy in the head with his pistol at point blank and with a back swing, decapitated another with the Wych spear he still had from the arena. Next to him, Darelyn moved among the foe with grace, hacking and cutting at vital spots. The precision with which her blows were struck would have put an Astartes to shame. Between the two of them, no maniac could reach Felia.
"YOU!" A bellow caught Levantia's attention. To his terror, the one addressing him was a familiar face. Much paler than before, but the expression of righteous anger was still there. The face belonged to the father whose son he once tried to feed. "Traitor. I kill you. I kill you all."
For a moment, Levantia froze as the flush of memory overcame him.
"Levantia, watch out," Darelyn cried.
Momentarily distracted, Levantia did not notice another maniac hitting him in the flank. The fighting was simply too hectic to see exactly what was going on and who was doing what. He doubled over as the butt of a splinter rifle was bludgeoned into his stomach. The maniac prepared for a second strike, but Darelyn intervened and rammed her knife into the back of his head and through his mouth. Two more maniacs appeared behind Darelyn and dragged her screaming back, leaving Levantia in too much pain to do anything to help.
The father charged at Levantia with a murderous rage. Unable to move his body, Levantia braced, expecting to be thrown over and pinned down by the charging foe. Before the father could reach him, however, another figure tossed himself into the maniac and knocked him sideways. Levantia could faintly see it was Dividus, but he was soon lost as the foe swarmed him.
"Dividus!" Levantia cried. "Dividus!"
No answer came, only the sound of screaming and things banging together. As the pain subsided, Levantia picked up his halberd and cut through the enemy, hoping he would reach Dividus in time against all odds. As it turned out, there was no need to help out Darelyn who dispatched her assailants with ease and moved on. Maniacs hurled themselves in Levantia's way, but the weapon was masterfully crafted and Levantia hacked them apart with ease. Once he got the hang of it, it became almost too easy.
With the last enemy in the area defeated, an air of silence permeated the hallway. Levantia eventually got to where Dividus made his final stand. His heart sank: he was too late. Dividus was still alive but badly mauled and it did not take a medic to know he would not make it; his innards were all over the place and one of his legs was gone. The man made a good account for himself, however, with no fewer than eight maniacs lying dead beneath him, the father included. For a moment, Levantia wondered if his son was among the maniacs in here. He sincerely hoped not, for it was better that the boy died from starvation as soon as possible to spare him from further suffering and dehumanisation.
"Levantia," Dividus managed as Levantia approached. "I told you…those lower-class were…no good. You…should have listened to me."
"I…I am sorry I could not keep my promise to you," Levantia stuttered as tears flooded his eyes. To see another friend perish after everything they had been through together, this was too hard for him to accept. "It is all my fault this is happening. I should have listened to you. I should not have stopped. How could I be so stupid?"
"Don't…blame yourself," said Dividus, his voice growing weaker. "You did it…because you thought it was right, just like me…when I betrayed my friends." He coughed. His eyes were dimmer now. "I could not protect my loved ones. Live on. Do what I...could not."
As Dividus took his last breath, Levantia felt devastated by what just occurred. Yanarr quickly filled in the report as always, and according to him, fourteen Kaballites were killed in the previous battle including six reservists. Most others took only light injuries but two were seriously wounded and needed to be carried for the rest of the journey. All in all, the gain from this engagement could not justify the loss. Levantia saved five but at the cost of eight men, not to mention those that were injured. Given the number of maniacs dead at the hand of his platoon, in another time this could have been declared a victory, but since this engagement should not have taken place and any death inflicted meaningless, Levantia could not see it as anything other than a complete and total defeat. under his leadership.
A defeat under HIS leadership.
The most terrible casualty was the morale. All the men now looked at Levantia with doubts on their faces. Even the Dark Eldar looked exhausted by the ordeal and did not enjoy looting the corpses and searching for survivors to torture anymore. Levantia could see what his wrong decision had done to them. He had led them to great victories, but this was a reversal they were not accustomed to.
"Carlos, don't take this too hard on yourself," Darelyn soothed, her hands gently wiping the blood on his face like a mother cleaning her child. "Mistakes and misfortune come to all of us sometimes. It was also partly our fault for not trying to stop you. You said yourself you would follow our opinion." To this, Levantia simply nodded. He could not show weakness, not at this critical moment where the lives of so many depended on him.
Turning back to his men, Levantia said with as much rigour as he could muster, "We should move on. There is no time to waste here." He picked up Felia who, at this point, had gotten the habit of sleeping when big fights were happening. If only she could pull her weight on this, then this fight might have been elementary.
Yanarr did the translation. There were no arguments against, no complaints, not even any whining. The platoon was tired and depressed, but they remained stalwartly loyal to Levantia. With that, the march continued.
To ultimate freedom, no matter the cost.
Eventually, they met up with the White Hero who was standing in wait in the corridor leading to the command headquarter on the ship. Upon their arrival, the White Hero's eyes focused for a moment on the exhausted and defeated face of Levantia and the frail body of the Farseer still on his shoulder. His gaze shifted to the rest of the platoon all wearing the same expression, paying particular attention to Bruno, or the massive tome he was carrying. Making no comment on that, the White Hero turned to Darelyn and asked, "You are late. A minute later and your tardiness can this whole operation at risk. To you, of course, not to me."
"It was not her fault," Levantia raised his voice but was immediately silenced as the White Hero's stern stare fell on him. He was too ashamed to say anything. The White Hero thought highly of him and he had failed him just as he had failed the Archon.
"We ran into some compromises," said Darelyn coolly.
"There seems fewer of you," the White Hero remarked. "And there are new faces around, not enough to make up for the ones missing, though."
"One of the compromises was costly to us," Darelyn replied.
The White Hero paused for a brief moment before saying, "Very well. We are close to our final destination. Hold fast, stay behind me the whole time, and you will get out of here alive. I promise."
A minute later and they stood in front of the entrance to the Archon's quarter which also happened to be where important decision-making by the Kabal took place. Looking at the doors on which the story of the Eldar's fall was told, Levantia felt the same trepidation he once did when he first entered this place, not knowing what kind of turn would his destiny take.
The White Hero opened the doors and walked right in as though it were his home while the rest followed him with caution. Within the chamber, the Archon, flanked by his Incubi bodyguards and members of his staff, stood ready.
"Feharuln," the White Hero began with an uncharacteristically cheery voice. "You are a sight for a sore eye, are you not? It is great to see you have risen high, but that only means your descent will be even more painful."
"I have no idea who you are or why you have an axe to grind with me," the Archon hissed. "But this is MY ship. You entered without MY permission. Your actions harm MY crew and affect MY interest. Do not think you will be leaving this place alive."
"Your ship?" the White Hero laughed. "That is a wild claim. I do not remember assigning it to you."
The Archon's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?" he asked. There was fear in his voice, no matter how he tried to conceal it.
At this point, the White Hero took off his helmet and let his waist-length blond hair flow down freely. Where Felia's yellow hair was the colour of gold, the White Hero's had a much deeper tone and felt more like a field of wheat on a bountiful year. His face was handsome like any other Eldar but some of the features looked rather rough, if not human-like. The eyes were purple and his ears were sharp to the point they looked like they could be used as a weapon if aimed at someone's eyes. A cruel smile ran across his face as he drank in the Archon's horror.
"It...it cannot be," Feharuln stuttered as all signs of self-restraint abandoned him. His face spoke of a level of horror Levantia had never seen before, not even when the Archon was losing his fight against the Hive Tyrant. "Slavara?" To which, the White Hero nodded.
Levantia was as appalled as the Archon at the revelation. When he thought he had so much in common with the Archon, he never realised they were idolising the identical person all along. When Felia made her prediction about the one no one expected coming to destroy the Kabal, she was right for both him and the Archon.
Because the White Hero and Archon Slavara were one and the same!
Author's notes: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you all. I hope you are having a great time with your family and friends because I sure do.
This chapter features several characters who had appeared once before in the story and not seen ever again. With everything coming to a conclusion, I decided it would be best to give them some proper ends in grimdark manners. This chapter also contains information that would justify a bromance between Levantia and the Archon, or perhaps even a threesome if the White Hero is interested (or four if you count Crox).
Recently a game called Space Hulk Deathwing was released and I do not like it from the playthrough. Both the gameplay and the environment feel very repetitive. The haunting atmosphere does not fit a game where you are an invincible god and shoot down hordes of enemies. There are no xenos vessels to discover. The Genestealers lack variety. Co-op is poor compared to Star Wars Republic Commando and Left 4 Dead. The badass music in the trailer is not even there. All in all, I recommend Legacy of Dorn: Herald of Oblivion over this.
There is also a reference to Avatar. Can anyone spot it?