Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! here.
This chapter is co written by Deathwatch Razgriz. I suggest you go check it out
*cough* shameless promotion *cough*
Anyways, have a merry late Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa and have a happy new year!
Klaus hated a lot of things. Hate was a rather peculiar word in his mind. It is very easy to dislike something. Stepping in poo, getting your clothes wet, losing a round in a match, tripping. Those were things you disliked. But when you hate something, you must dislike it VERY strongly to use such a word. And without a doubt, Klaus could say that he hated a new thing, next to Xenos, Heretics, and Mutants. Snow.
Snow was the reason that he had to spend three more weeks in Dalaran. Three more weeks then he wanted to, or needed to. With a horrendous blizzard outside in the world that was actually killing people who stayed out for too long, Dalaran was completely snowed in. With the cold grey sky outside, Klaus sighed, taking a sip of hot chocolate. He saw the peculiar 'elementals' doing their best to clear the streets. Floating torrents of flame, lava and magma spewed out fiery bursts of flame at the climbing mountains of snow, desperately trying to stem the tide of powdery white snow. However, it only worked to keep it back, but not to gain any ground. He supposed that this was one disadvantage of being in high altitude. He took another sip from his mug. The warm liquid was poured into his mouth, where he swished it around a little bit, before he swallowed, and sighed. He appreciated these moments. Where he was alone, and had nothing to worry about. Nothing to think about. Nothing to do. He took another sip, and sighed, listening to the fire roaring in the heath, filling the air with the sound of crackling wood. He looked into the fire, seeing twisting figures within the embers and sparks and ashes. He took another sip, and put his mug to the side, and shifted in his chair, as he went to his satchel, and pulled out his journal. He took out his trusty pencil, and started to flip through the pages. Each page was a memory of a life far simpler, and he wished he could simply go back to those times. But that couldn't happen. Not anymore. He continued to turn, page after page, until one in particular made him pause. It wasn't a sketch really, but a table full of numbers. He glanced at the table and read through each one, and then he paused, and realised something. Tomorrow was his Birthday. On the Terran calendar, December 24th.
"Salutations on living for another year. Let's see if you can get to the next one." He mumbled to himself, as he clinked his mug against the wooden wall, and finished it off, wiping his mouth of light brown sludge.
He looked back at the data table, and continued to read through it. He started to remember why he even had this data table to begin with. It was homemade statistics. Enemies encountered, confirmed kills, shots fired, times wounded, and comrades lost under command. Of course, all of them were estimates, though times wounded probably wasn't. He looked through the statistics, and sighed, as he flipped the page, and started to draw a new one.
"Let's see if you can do better this year." He said aloud. He then heard footsteps. Heavy ones. Klaus slowly inched his hand toward the Gilded Bolter, which was on his lap. The door was kicked down, and Bluddflagg entered the room, his green skin coated with animal furs and pelts.
"Zog its cold." He said, as he opened the door some more, revealing Lofn, who was carrying a…
"Is that a tree?" He said in confusion. She nodded, and he could practically see her smile underneath the Ghost Helm, as she, along with Bluddflagg, placed the tree in the corner of the room, next to the window.
"Yep." She replied, as if to validate it even more. Klaus glanced at the pine tree, then back at Lofn, and then at Bluddflagg. Bluddflagg glanced between the two, and stifled a chuckle. Ever since their 'dinner' together, Bluddflagg had been laughing his ass off at it. He considered it to be the funniest joke he had ever heard, and it didn't help that Bluddflagg wouldn't shut up about it either.
"Can I ask why?" He asked, still confused.
"Iz a sekret." Bluddflagg retorted, doing a quoting gesture with his remaining hand. Obviously, he wasn't as excited about the so called secret as Lofn was, as she was grinning like a lunatic, and it started to worry him. He adjusted his journal, so that the others couldn't see, as he continued to sketch the data table. Bluddflagg glanced at the journal, and snatched it from Klaus's hands.
"Unhand it now, vile beast!" Klaus demanded, as he went to get it back. However, Bluddflagg pushed him slightly with his powa klaw, knocking him back into his chair.
"Settle down ya grot." He growled, his flaming eye giving him what appeared to be a death stare, before he glanced at the journal again.
"Give it back." Lofn demanded. Bluddflagg snorted, and shoved it into Lofn's hands. Klaus expected her to hand it over, immediately. But then as she looked at it some more, her face changed completely.
"Tomorrow was your Birthday?" She asked, joy creeping into her voice. Klaus rubbed his face. This was exactly what he did not want for her to find out. Dear Emperor… what had he gotten himself into?
/
Nebetaruk's systems had been slowly rebooting over the past few weeks, the explosion he had been caught in unfortunately knocked a few of his critical elements out...but now he was awake again. The ancient mechanical warlord's eyes started to glow a darker shade of green, while going over the sensor data that his body had gathered while he was incapacitated. Besides the blizzard out that would kill any organic not adapted to live in that level of cold, the only thing of note was that his Ork companion had been kidnapped by a group of undead.
Whether they were bound to the Lich King or of the Forsaken was almost inconsequential in the long run. Either way he WOULD liberate the Mek Boy, if only to repay the debt he owed him (as the Mek could have let him be destroyed in the explosion)...But first he had to find the now slumbering Flayed Ones; as while he was superior to anything he might encounter, he could still be defeated if he was overwhelmed by sheer numbers, as such his kin would be invaluable to an assault on either force. However, he knew of the danger of the Flayed Ones, and in particular, the Flayer Virus. He knew that he could not risk being infected. No! It would not come to that. If it happened, then no one would be around to stop not only him, but the C'tan. It was a very deep, and very serious risk. But one, that he must take. As soon as he was done with the Flayed Ones, he silently vowed to destroy them.
However, as he tried to rise he noticed a small obstacle to his plan… the cold of Northrend and the blizzard had frozen his joints. And not only that. His skin was coated with a semi thick layer of ice and snow. A deep mechanical growl emanated from his core as he calculated that it would take an hour for his internal gauss generators to warm up enough for him to defreeze himself and keep from freezing up again.
Despite this setback, Nebetaruk consoled himself by reminding himself that the other Necrons had been dormant for much longer and his Greenskin companion had been in captivity for longer than an hour...So in the grand scheme of things, another hour before he could enslave his kin wasn't that much of a hinderance.
An hour later he rose to his feet as his Gauss generator shattered the ice that had encased him, and made his way towards a side passage in the side of the hill. It would have seemed a random choice to an organic to go down that route...but organics, well... they lacked the eyes of a Necron, which were modified to see the invisible directions, ancient glyphs and runes that were engraved in the walls by the Necrons; and the way he was heading was to the activation chamber, to the Old Kingdom once more. They glowed softly, letting out a shimmer of green energy, that rippled across the stone walls.
However, as the Necron Lord was highly intelligent, he knew there was a chance he would not be able to instantly enslave them. As such he decided that before he tried to hunt down the Flayed Ones, that he should acquire more powerful wargear that could still have been hidden within the ancient Necron tomb. From what he recalled in his fractured memories there should at least be a Veil of Darkness (a device that would allow him to hide himself from nearly everything) and possibly, a Rod of the Covenant (which would allow him to destroy the Flayed Ones much easier when the time came). Of course, such Rods came from the Triarch Praetorians, the law keepers of Necron society. However, a permanently deactivated Triarch wouldn't be needing it anymore. And perhaps more coincidentally, as he turned a corner, a shortcut to the armory glowed softly, illuminating a shortcut through the winding tunnels. A low and menacing chuckle escaped his vocal processor, as time slipped by, like sand through his fingers. Now... he wouldn't have to waste any extra time finding any wargear he could use to improve his abilities. And soon, he would have an army of his own...
/
Mista Nailbrain woozily woke up, his head banging and screaming and cursing. He went to rub it, when he realized that his hands were bound. Then he noticed something else. He was naked. Well, partially anyways, as he still was wearing his pants, which were now notably scarred. Holes and scratches and rips were found everywhere. He would have to get new ones. But first, he had to figure out where he was. He looked around the room he was in. The stench here was awful, and it smelled like a rotten corpse down here. Small droplets of green liquid dropped from the ceiling, splattering against the old grey stone. He opened his mouth to scream, but then he noticed that it was gagged.
"Oh zmmog." Mista Nailbrain mumbled quietly, as he tried chewing on the cloth that was rammed in between his teeth. However, it didn't seem to be working. Where was he anyways?
The past few weeks had come by in a blur. Everytime he woke up, another few wacks in the back of the head knocked him out again. Apart of him wondered if skull surgery was necessary...but a larger part was reminded of the way Painboyz and Mad Doks would treat their patients, and as an Ork that freaked him out and caused him to start struggling even more.
"Don't bother. Those bonds were designed to hold Trolls and Tauren. You won't be going anywhere." A voice said. Mista Nailbrain stopped struggling, as he glanced around, his red eyes darting from corner to corner. However, it was far too dark, and the only thing that gave any light was several torches, that were placed strategically around the room. They were dim, and only produced enough light for visibility, but nothing clear. He heard footsteps. One after another. They were slow, and methodical. It was behind him too, but he couldn't physically look behind him. He only got glimpses, as the figure strided behind him. An edge of a black cloak. A sinister red glare. Soft grey skin, and ruby red lips, glistening with wetness.
Mista Nailbrain thrashed again, straining the leather and steel chains that held him down. However, it slowly dawned on him that these things weren't budging. Suddenly. He had an idea. He tried as hard as he could to reach into his pants. He had something for a situation like thi-
"We searched you from top to bottom. I am rather surprised one with a body frame as yourself kept twenty pounds of explosives like pocket change." The voice added on.
"Go zmog ymorsmelf." Mista Nailbrain mumbled, his speech slurred by the gag. Finally, the figure took several steps to his side, revealing herself. It was Sylvanas Windrunner. The Dark Lady. She looked him up and down. One of her fingers slowly reached for his chest. The elongated, silver nail, traced swirls on his scarred, bare green chest.
"Dmont even fmink about mit." He snarled. Sylvanas smiled coyly, as she yanked the gag out of his mouth. He took a greedy breath of air, before he gave her a fiery glance.
"When da Kaptin hears bout dis, he'll have yer arse on a silva platta, yoo hear me?!" He shouted in pure anger. To this, she only shook her head.
"I'm afraid an event like that will not happen. No one but me, and a select few even know where you are, my friend." She replied. Mista Nailbrain shook his head, refusing to believe her.
"Dat aint possible ya twat! Da kapn… he… he wuldnt furget bout me…" He mumbled, slowly starting to question it himself. She grinned, as she began to exploit his uncertainty.
"Yes he would… he left you and your fellows for dead. It was only a miracle that my Dark Ranger's had found you. And you were lucky too. A rather… fatal… blizzard was on its way. If you were not finished off from your wounds, then you certainly would have been exterminated by the cold." She pointed out. Then she leaned in close, only a few inches away from his face, in which she could see the emotions and thoughts dancing in her eyes. The schemes being formulated. The torture being planned. The manipulation being drawn out.
"So in a way… you owe me your life." She said, giving a small smirk. It was fake. All of it.
"I dun… I dun believe ya." Mista Nailbrain mumbled. She took a step back, clearly displeased.
"I didn't want to do this, but you leave me no choice. Perhaps you should see what could have been you if I didn't save you..." She said, and clapped her hands once. Two Forsaken came into the room, opening a door that was previously hidden by darkness. They dragged in something, and threw it to the floor. There were multiple pieces of… whatever… it was, and they began to roll it forward, prodding it with their shoes. Mista Nailbrain gasped, at what little of a view he had.
"Spookums…" He mumbled in horror. They wouldn't DARE defile his body with their filthy, pestilent touch. But they did. They rolled what little remained of Spookums right to the table that Mista Nailbrain had been strapped too. Now he was angry.
"YOO BASTARD! I'M GUNNA RIP YER GUTS OUT, N FEED IT TOO YA!" He screamed in anger, as he flailed at the bonds that held him down. Sylvanas clearly wasn't impressed, and merely crossed her arms.
"Tell me something. Where is the rest of your crew?" She asked. Mista Nailbrain ignored her, as he desperately tried to break free. She was quiet for a whole minute, before she shook her head.
"Clearly, you need to be taught some manners." She mumbled, before she glanced at the two Forsaken guards, who still stood at attention, their rusty swords drawn.
"Take him to the Apothecaries. Tell them they can do whatever they wish to him, as long as he stays alive, somewhat intact, and preferably not lobotomised. Bring him back here by the evening. It is after all, the eve of Winter Veil." She commanded. They obeyed, and began to push him away. It was only then that he realized something. If no one knew that he was here… then no one was coming to go get him. He realized that with his defiance, he had very well sealed his fate. He screamed in realization, only before the disgusting rag was shoved back in his mouth.
/
Bluddflagg watched with mild curiosity as the twig brewed up some sort of concoction. He was getting sleepy, and it didn't help that pitter patter of snow outside was so… well, soothing. He needed something to kill. He tried to get up from his spot on the floor, but he didn't make it that far, before he fell down again. Eh. He would do it later.
"Ah. Sloth. Quite the sin, do you not agree?" The voice asked. Bluddflagg narrowed his eyes, and refused to respond.
"Silence won't help you my friend." The voice said again.
"Piss off would ya?" He mumbled, keeping his voice soft, as the twigs instructions. Klaus was sitting in his chair, far away in the room of the hotel they had rented, who was quietly drawing.
"Hm. I think not." The voice said quietly. "Do you know what time of year it is?"
"Er… probably not."
"Of course not you half wit." It responded. Bluddflagg furrowed his eyebrows, slowly closing his Powa Klaw.
"I said. Piss. Off." Bluddflagg growled. The voice stopped harassing him for now. Finally, Lofn was done with… whatever she was making. She gave Bluddflagg a quick wink, as she walked over to Klaus. Bluddflagg suddenly smirked, a feral grin slowly spreading on his face. He just may yet win this bet against Mista Nailbrain.
"Klaus. Could you try this?" She asked. Bluddflagg grinned even more. Any second now…
Klaus put down his book, and put his writing stick back into it, as he glanced at the steaming cup in her hand.
"Why?" He asked in confusion.
"It is a seasonal drink that the locals made. I wanted to try it out, but I want to have your opinion on it." She stated. Bluddflagg began shivering in excitement. Any second now…
Klaus chuckled. "So if it tastes like grox shit, then your palette would be spared?" He retorted. Lofn shifted to the side.
"I'm sorry… scared?" She taunted. He snorted, snatching the cup out of her hand.
"I'm not scared of no damn cup, or some damn drink." He growled, as he downed it in one go. He stood up, and put the small cup in her hand.
"See? I'm not scared. Tastes like shi-"
Klaus stopped talking for a moment, and glanced at his hands, before he slumped back into his chair, his eyes completely closed. Bluddflagg snarled in anger, smashing his hand into the floor. Damn it! They were so… so close! Lofn glanced at Bluddflagg, studying him for a moment, before she grinned wildly.
"It worked. Help me get the 'boxes' in position." She said, as she quickly ran out of sight. Bluddflagg scratched his head, confused.
"Boxes? And da hell did ya doo to him?" He asked in confusion, glancing back at Klaus, who was now snoring.
"Gave him a bit of a sleeping potion!" She shouted, as she started to bring in colorfully wrapped boxes in. Ah. Those boxes. After yesterday's debut, she had dragged Bluddflagg through the snow to go shopping for… stuff. Really, all he did for her was provide transport, as he was large enough to get through the blockade of snow outside.
"Yoo drugged him?" He asked in confusion. She poked her head out, as she started to carry/levitate a box in front of the tree. "I wouldn't call it that. I would call it… adding a bit of pizazz to the mixture."
"Welp. Tell me if ya zog, cuz den I win da bet." He said loudly, as he stood up, and began to ferry the boxes, which were left outside. Lofn blushed heavily, as she stopped moving.
"It's not like that you know." She said, rather annoyed. Bluddflagg stifled a chuckle.
"Dat so? Wot about da dinna yoo two had?" He retorted. She stamped her foot in anger.
"He started it!" She protested.
"But dat didn't mean ya had to stay." He countered.
"It was a nice gesture! It would have been rude to walk out!"
"Ah, so druggin him, dat's not rood, roight?"
"It was the only way I could get these through without him knowing. He's way too much of a light sleeper. I want it to be a surprise."
"Da hell ya doin dis fur anyway?"
Lofn stopped, and took a deep breath.
"Because, Bluddflagg, 'holidays' as the locals call it, is something I have never experienced before. We don't have anything left to celebrate for, so celebrating an event that doesn't remind you of your inevitable doom is a refreshing change!" She snapped. Bluddflagg whistled.
"Hm. Wot if he doesn't wanna do it?" He asked.
"He doesn't want to do anything that doesn't involve killing, purging, or spit shining. Like you." She replied.
"So ya force dis on him?" He asked.
"Why do you care?" She retorted.
"I dun kare bout da humie. Long as he's still breathin, and in foightin cundition, den i'm an happy ork. I leave da… fondling… to you." He chuckled.
"I said, It's not like that." She growled. Bluddflagg chuckled.
"Sure sure." He giggled. They were silent for a few moments.
"Did ya get Mista Nailbrain and Spookums sumfin?"
"No…"
"Bah, nevamoind. I'll get it meself. Spookums always lookin for a bigga knife, while Mista Nailbrain luvs him some shiny bits. Bet I can find it round here.
"You're buying it. Not stealing it."
"Bah. Foine." Bluddflagg grumbled. He stopped, and wiped his brow of sweat.
"When we leavin dis damned place? I wanna kill sumfin already!" He growled.
"Soon, soon. As soon as the blizzard lets up, we head straight to the Argent Tournament."
"Tournie eh? Dats a good place to kill."
"Well, its more for Klaus. To train him, you know?"
"Wot, ya dun fink he's capable?"
"I think he is perfectly capable, but it's better to be prepared then to be sorry."
"Yeah yeah. Long as da humie can hold a choppa da roight way, he's trained enuff fer me."
"We face a whole army of undead creatures and abominations. He will need all of the training he can get."
"Speaking of which, how da hell are we gunna kill all of dem pasty gits anyways? I mean, I am a mirikal wurker, but I aint dat gud of un." Bluddflagg boasted. Lofn smiled coyly.
"Dont worry. We will win this. Reinforcements are already on the way." She stated. Bluddflagg raised an eyebrow.
"And who's dat?" Bluddflagg demanded. Lofn smiled slightly.
"Oh, merely an old 'friend' of the Ulthrans. to provide the way."
/
Ahriman watched over the mass army of undead, slowly marching and massing underneath him. He stood on an elevated balcony inside of Icecrown Citadel, looking over the horde of zombies, skeletons, abominations, and other unholy abominations that lurked about.
"It is beautiful, is it not?" Ahriman asked softly, glancing to his prized new slave. The Lich King.
The Lich King stood there silently, watching. Ahriman narrowed his eyes, as he amped up the mental domination on The Lich King. The Lich King began to twitch, shake and quiver, as it desperately tried to fight off the waves of psychic energy. Ahriman had to admit, The Lich King was a powerful psyker. Ahriman struggled to keep The Lich King under control at nearly all times, and this made him slightly paranoid. To be sure, he had taught himself the dark arts of Necromancy. Though it reeked far too much of Nurglite Magic to him, he could not deny its usefulness. He had scoured many previously abandoned battlefields, and had always found new recruits, either willing or not. The Cult of the Damned also provided a steady stream of new recruits, especially of the back breaking labor he had subjected them too. The kingdoms of mortals still stood. For now. But he had bigger problems to attend to.
Ahriman heard footsteps behind him, and he turned around to see a shivering cultist. It was an old decrepit man, with corpse white skin, covered with thin black robes, laced with bright purple fabric. He had yet to change the coat of arms from the icy hammers and skulls to the soothing sun of the Thousand Sons, or at least the mark of Tzeentch. Though he never considered himself a champion of tzeentch, or chaos in general, he found their tricks… useful.
"Master… an army belonging to Chaos threatens to march to us from Sholazar Basin." the cultist reported, his voice jittery. Stale fear reeked off of him like an awful perfume. Ahriman turned to face the wretch.
"Numbers?" Ahriman asked calmly.
"In the thousands, my lords. The daemonic scum have managed to manipulate and corrupt the local tribes of Tuskarr, Wolvar, Ice Trolls, and Gorlocs against us. Their touch has desecrated the basin, and they march to the Avalanche." The cultist reported. Ahriman grinned. The Avalanche was a long and winding path up the mountain range that separates the basin from Icecrown. It was also rather narrow. It was like they were playing into his hand...
"They march right into a choke point. Excellent." Ahriman chuckled, his unholy laughter echoing through the halls of Icecrown Citadel, getting lost in the howling blizzard. He stopped.
"And what of the Lich that was assigned to oversee the Basin? Artruis the Heartless? What did he do to stop this?" Ahriman demanded. The cultist shuffled his feet.
"Artruis was slain before word got out. If we do not stop the army of chaos now, they will be able to siege the Citadel." The cultist replied cautiously. Ahriman snorted.
"Useless scum. Find Lord Marrowgar. If you survive, tell him to take eight thousand of our undead and meet the forces of chaos at the avalanche. Tell him that he shouldn't bother returning unless the last of their cultists are slain, and the last of the daemons are ripped from this plane." Ahriman growled.
"But what of the armies of the living? They still sit on our doorstep, at the Argent Tournament.?" The cultist asked. Ahriman waved his hand.
"We will deal with them later. Now go." He commanded. The cultist nodded, as he ran as fast as he could. Ahriman sighed, as he looked back at the plain of undead below him. Yes. An army that bowed to his indomitable will, did not demand a paycheck, and smelled somewhat tolerable? Yes, this was quite the army indeed.
"Now, Lich King, where was I?" Ahriman asked, chuckling lightly. "Oh yes. Isn't the view beautiful?"
The Lich King spared him a glance full of hate and anger and rage.
"Yes. The view is lovely."
/
Klaus stirred from his slumber, rubbing his head slightly. It ached. Then, he immediately rose up, snatching his sword from its sheathe. Where was that treasonous, deceitful witch? He looked around, ready to gut that filthy, disgusting xeno, when he paused. It was obvious that no one was here. It also seemed to be morning, due to the daylight that streamed in from above. It also seemed that the blizzard had stopped, as the howling wind no longer senselessly smacked and beat the windows outside. However, that wasn't the thing he noticed. It was the tree.
Colorful decorations peppered the pine tree, from small glass balls to brightly colored ribbons made from paper and other materials. Their was a note on the tree too. Klaus glanced around, as he quickly slipped on his gasmask. Just to be sure, anyways. He grabbed the note, and unfolded it, ripping off the small little bowtie that held it together.
"Dear Klaus.
Sorry for drugging you. I wanted this to be a surprise!
Anyways, as you can probably see, the blizzard has let up for now, and we are now ready to travel once more. Meet us at Runeweaver Square.
Of course, after you open all of the gifts Me and Bluddflagg bought for you.
Convincing him to cooperate was hard, so please have some decency.
Sincerely, Lofn." Klaus read slowly, as he glanced down at his feet.
There were four boxes laying at his feet, each one carefully wrapped up in brightly colored paper. Klaus slowly put his sword back in his sheathe, his previous anger pushed aside. For now, anyways. He certainly wouldn't trust her with her drinks ever again. He kneeled down, picking one up.
It certainly was the largest of them all, and thus, probably was the heaviest. And has he shook it in his hand, a small pointed tip stuck out of the box. Fearing the worst, Klaus put it onto the ground. He took his power sword, and started to cut the box open from as far as he could reach. Finally, the box fell into pieces, revealing a crossbow and a dozen bolts. There was also a small piece of paper in the jumble of metal and wood, lodged between the string and the flight groove. He took it out, and looked at it. It was less of a note, and more of a poster. Klaus looked at it for a few moments, before he crumpled it up and tossed it away. This was Bluddflagg's gift for sure, and emperor knew that not even the most gifted Magos Biologis could translate THAT text. Klaus grabbed the crossbow slowly, and spent a good amount of time looking it over. The ebony wood was recently polished, and the golden trimmings around the edges of the bridle, showed that this gift certainly costed some coin. A quiver was also included, which held the bolts to the crossbow. Klaus considered thanking the greenskin, but then he immediately banished the thought. Taking this was one thing, but thanking him for it was another thing.
"Interesting how this has played out." Legion said. Klaus twitched, glancing at him from his shoulder.
"You just LOVE to sneak up on me, do you?" Klaus growled. Legion shrugged, his fiery pauldrons giving his head a quick bath of warp fire.
"Consider it a hobby while we are inactive." Legion replied. Klaus narrowed his eyes.
"Did you know about this?" He demanded.
"Yes." Legion plainly said. Klaus narrowed his eyes even more. Legion's fiery red lenses were proving difficult to read, but his voice was plain as day. He wasn't lying.
"And you saw what happened? About how they drugged me? And you didn't even bother to intervene?" He asked. Legion nodded again.
"Yes." He added on. Klaus was confused.
"Why?" He asked. Legion stood up, and began slowly walking around the room.
"Klaus, I have been watching you since we first met. I have always been there, silently observing every interaction, listening to every word, and noting every action. I have learned quite a lot about both you and your companions, only by listening and watching. I have seen their every action, and I can guess their intentions far better than you ever could." He stated, as he stopped pacing around, and slowly reached down, grabbing one of the presents. He then pushed it into Klaus's hands.
"If they were planning a mutiny or treason, I would have found out far before you ever even considered it. And as so, I was not worried about their actions. I knew that their intent was non hostile." Legion added on. Klaus glanced down at the present in his hand.
"But that does not explain why you would not even warn me about such things." Klaus retorted, though he knew that he wasn't winning this argument.
"Why should I?" Legion retorted. Klaus raised an eyebrow.
"I am your protector, yes. But, that does not mean every now and then I can sit back and watch things happen. I protect you from death. Not discomfort or awkwardness. That is not my job." Legion stated. He then took a step back. Klaus glanced down at the present in his hand, and began to open it. This one was small, roughly the size of his fist. As he ripped the wrapping apart, and slowly opened the wooden box, he found his next gift.
It was a small wooden carving of the aquila, the size of his palm. He did have to admit, they put a great amount of detail into it. He looked it over for a moment, rubbing his hand across the surface of the carving. He then shoved it into his sack.
"There's one last one." Legion stated, as he waved to the final box. It was very small as well, this time fitting directly into his palm. Klaus slowly took the wrapping paper off, and opened the box.
It was a gold and silver pendant, a charm hanging on by a small chain. The pendant itself was a gemstone, that was split into two, equal halves. One half of it was a deep sapphire blue, while the other was a light grey. It refracted the light that came through the window, making a bright spot appear right on his greatcoat, roughly where his heart was. The gemstone was held in place by a silver and gold bracket. The chain flowed through his fingers, as he tried it on. It fit his neck, eerily perfectly. Not constricting, but not loose either.
"Whose gift was this?" Klaus asked Legion, before noticing that the Legionnaire was long gone.
/
Dal'yth. Dal'yth was a Tau Sept, one of the first worlds that was claimed by the Tau Empire during the first expansion period. Dal'yth was a metropolitan station of trade and luxury, where not only Tau, but their alien allies and other species lounged in relative comfort. The perfect hiding spot for a fugitive.
Eldrad Ulthran didn't need a disguise, as simply covering his head with his ghost helm was good enough to keep suspicions off of him. He personally did not like being near the Tau. Though they held good promise, they were unbearably naive and young, to the point where it sometimes made him sick. If the eldar thought that humanity was young, the Tau did not even come close.
The busy streets of Dal'yth were full of aliens, both familiar and well, alien. He saw a wide variety of species as he walked in the shadows, keeping himself concealed. Tau, Kroot, Vespid, Humans, or as they were called, Gue'vesa, and even orks, though they were in extremely low number. Speaking of orks, he was looking for one in particular. Wanted by the Inquisition for twenty mon'keigh years, this ork was constantly on the run. And it was time Eldrad called up on a favor that he was owed.
"These Tau reek. I thought that such an advanced race would at least invest in a better smell." he mumbled to himself, as he looked at the slip of paper that was held in his hands. It was the last seen location of his target. In an abandoned drone factory, that had been given up to his target, after a certain hefty bribe. He continued to walk slowly, trying to avoid as much attention as possible. His trap was ready to be sprung.
Half an hour later, he stood outside of the door to the drone factory. It was rather isolated, and Eldrad had to take a detour in order to get to it, as several Fire Warriors had been patrolling the streets. He slowly opened the door, pushing it slowly and quietly. He could hear disgusting music deep within the factory. It sounded like metal shredding against one another, along with the sound of primitive drums slamming against each other. Eldrad was disgusted, but he put aside this disgust, as he continued to walk deeper in. He noticed a quick red glare from above him, on one of the support beams. Good. They were here.
"Oi! Ora'nesh? Dat yoo! Did ya get da parts that I wanted?" He heard someone yell. Eldrad heard footsteps come his way, and he slowly drew out his witchblade. An ork came into view, turning a corner behind a stack of metal bars, bumping right into Eldrad. The ork was dressed in a filthy uniform, similar to a mon-keigh commissar. With the peaked hat, and filthy coat and ripped and patchy pants, the ork's defining characteristic was the cyborg eye that covered the right side of his face. The red light showed brightly, cascading Eldrad in the light. The ork gasped in shock, and stumbled back, pulling out a gun. Eldrad casually swung his witchblade, slicing the gun into two molten pieces.
"NO NO, NOT YOO AGAIN!" The ork shouted in panic, drawing a knife, and throwing it at Eldrad. Eldrad lifted his hand. The air began to feel cold, as the knife levitated in the air. Slowly, it was turned to the ork, and it was thrown. The velocity of the knife lodged itself straight into the orks uniform, right above the shoulder, and pinned the ork to the wall. Desperate, he shoved one of his hands into his mouth, and whistled.
"NIBBLA! KILL DA GIT!" The ork shouted. Eldrad heard heavy footsteps, and the sound of a behemoth shrieking. One of the walls crashed, spreading concrete and other metals flying.
The Hive tyrant let out a screech, a wailing cacophony that probably could be heard for miles. It's malevolent glare settled on Eldrad. But he had planned for this.
"Come now Unkle. No need for such violence." Eldrad said calmly, as he waved his hand, revealing his trap.
Two Squadrons of Fire Dragons and Warp Spiders revealed themselves from the shadows, pointing their weapons at the Hive Tyrant. The Tyranid glanced around, sparing each eldar warrior a hateful glance.
"Now, if you were wise, I would tell your… pet to stand down. We wouldn't want any… casualties." Eldrad said calmly. Unkle spared him a hateful glance, before he whistled again. Nibbla hissed, as it slowly pranced over to his master's side, standing guard. Without a word, the aspect warriors gathered at Eldrad's side, keeping their weapons trained on the beast.
"Unkle, I believe it is time that you pay up your past dues. The favor that you owe me. I am calling it in." Eldrad stated. Unkle snarled, ripping the knife out from his coat.
"I don't owe ya shit." Unkle growled. Eldrad sighed.
"Very well then. I may as well kill your beast, and bring you into the Inquisition. They would love to get to you and your secrets. Won't they?" Eldrad threatened. The ork was silent for a full minute, as they had a contest of willpower. Finally, the ork gave in.
"Foine… wot do ya want?" He mumbled, defeated. Eldrad smiled underneath his mask.
"I require a warhost sent to a dimension, that you have visited before. The one where you sent my… 'granddaughter' to." Eldrad stated. Unkle opened his eyes wide in shock.
"A warhost? Loike an army? Do ya know how much material dats gunna need?" Unkle gasped. Eldrad snorted.
"Yes… material. It shall all be accounted for. I need it done, as fast as possible. And don't even consider running. For if you do, I shall find you, and hunt you down myself." Eldrad growled. "Do we have a deal?" Eldrad asked, as he stuck out his hand. Unkle spat in his own hand, and rubbed it in well, before he shook it.
"Foine. But I aint doin anyfing fer ya. Ever again." He growled. Eldrad chuckled.
"We will see. We will see."
