Octavus: The Good, the Bad, and the Fab
Panting, Darkness stood over the fallen corpses of bloodletters, her sword raised in a warding stance. "I...I never thought I'd say this, but...I am sated. I think...I think I'd like a break now."
"You will bleed for us, mortal," the daemons hissed, and moved forward. "We shall drink of your soul."
"Normally I would enjoy such rough treatment, but it has been a day and a night. Even my stamina is nearing its limits," Darkness gasped, but the daemons ignored her plea. She let out a throaty moan as they slashed her, which made them pause in surprise. What was she, Slaaneshi?
Their musings were cut short when the Crusader's holy blade hewed them in half. After several millennia, even Darkness had learned how to hit a daemon sized target at point blank range.
"Lady Eris, they are endless!" Darkness called back as more daemons pressed forward. "I cannot hold!"
"We have to! If they get through the gate behind us, they'll destroy everything!" the Goddess of Fortune replied as she sliced up a Great Unclean One, grimacing at the stench and gore.
"Even the Seiya's are wearied! We are cut off, and cannot keep this up! We need reinforcements! Where are Miki and Homura, or Yunyun?" Darkness gasped as she put her back to the goddesses. Even Eris was bleeding and had dark circles under her eyes from hours of fighting. Not even goddesses could fight forever.
"I don't know! But Darkness, we have to keep fighting! I don't know where the others are, but we're it!"
"I...I cannot allow you to die here, goddess! Leave me, I shall fight on alone!" Darkness declared, slicing through another pair of demons with an artless stroke. With the foes pressing this close, it was more than enough.
"I'm not abandoning my friends!" Eris snarled, but she was forced back as a daemonette's talon scored her rib cage. The two women were surrounded and cut off, and all hope seemed lost. Then, they heard strange music begin to play.
The daemons looked up just in time to see four golden shapes descend upon them.
"Fear not, brave warriors," the largest of the four bellowed as his fist took the head of a Keeper of Secrets clean off. The titan of battle paused, flipping long golden locks back from his face and running a metal hand through his perfect hair, before deploying his plasma projectors and mowing down an entire row of Flesh Hounds. "My metal muscles QUIVER with excitement to see such valiant heroes of humanity! Now, behold the PERFECTION that is my SCULPTED BODY as we lay waste to these PATHETIC CREATURES. WITNESS THE MIGHT OF SANTODES"
"Who are you calling pathetic, you metallic abomination? Your pecs are not earned, for you walk not the path of the swole! Can you even drink protein? Do you even lift, bro?" a particularly stupid blood thirster in a KHORNES GYM muscle shirt shouted back.
"Oh, you've asked for it now!" Waamudes laughed.
Custodisi shook his head as he fired his master crafted storm bolter into a group of nurglings. "Just try to leave some for the rest of us, Brother Santodes.
"DO I EVEN LIFT?!" Sandodes roared, raising his arms and flexing. "LOOK UPON THIS BODY BEFORE I SLAY YOU, INFIDEL, FOR THIS IS SHRINE, NO, A TEMPLE, TO THE PATH OF THE SWOLE!"
The bloodthirster gave a mocking grin. "Metal muscles don't count! I bet you skip leg day!"
"Leg day is our favorite!" Karstodes gasped.
"SANDODES NEVER SKIPS LEG DAY!" the hand crafted dreadnought bellowed, and leapt through the air, his luscious hair streaming out behind him. He cleanly kicked the bloodthirster in the jaw, knocking the demon senseless, then raised the creature over his head. "THIS IS HOW SANDODES LIFTS, HERETIC! WITNESS THE MIGHT OF 10,000 YEARS OF SWOLITUDE!"
Then Sandodes ripped the Bloodthirster in half, and used the pieces of the corpse as makeshift melee weapons to tear into the surrounding demons with a bellow of "FOR THE EMPEROR!"
"It's the Empress now!" Waamudes called as he sliced a daemonette in half with his lightning axe.
"SHUT UP BROTHER, I'M ON A ROLL! WITNESS MY SWOLE, HERETICS! I SHALL TURN YOU INTO PROTEIN SHAKES AND LUBRICANT TO FUEL MY LUSCIOUS BODY!"
Against the might of the Fabstodes and their undeniable swole, the Daemons routed, retreating deeper into the webway, leaving the two exhausted fighters alone with their relief. Which soon got very awkward.
"I changed my mind!" Darkness gasped, her eyes gleaming. "I am ready for more! Oh, Eris, you must flee! I will distract these four brutal, muscular men with my body while you make good your escape!"
"Darkness, they're Custodes," Eris groaned, slumping down to the ground in an area slightly less puddled with gore. "They're on our side."
"Well, that depends on who and what you are," Custodisi growled. "Be you heretics, or those that kidnapped our most glorious Overlord?"
"I am no Heretic!" Darkness gasped. She undid the clasps on her armor, which fell away with a clang, making the Fabstodes gasp.
"Holy Emperor…" Karstodes breathed.
"This...this woman," Waamudes gasped, taking half a step back.
Custodisi could only gape, but Santodes said what they were all thinking: "This woman walks the Path of the Swole!"
"My muscles are 100% natural!" Darkness declared, flexing and showing off her impressive biceps, then grunting and leaning back to show abs that could be used to grind meat. "I train for six hours every day on physical fitness alone, then another four on combat training where I am mercilessly pounded by the Seiyas! Each muscle of my body is toned and honed to be of maximum durability! And of course-" Darkness undid her plate skirt, letting it crash to the floor as well, and the Fabstodes let out a groan as they beheld massive thighs and rock solid calves. "EVERY DAY IS LEG DAY!"
"Truly, she can be no heretic," Karstodes wept. "How can anyone so dedicated to the Path of the Swole be anything less than a paragon of righteousness?"
"Brothers, I...I am feeling something strange," Waamudes muttered, clutching at his chest plate. "I feel...I feel tingly, looking at this woman. Her muscles, they...they are almost manly!"
"Oh, oh Eris, these horrible men mock and deride me, calling me manly!" Darkness panted, flushing and covering herself with her arms, for she was dressed now only in a tank top and gym shorts that were horribly at odds with the medieval style armor, but far more comfortable to wear than traditional feudal undergarments.
"Oh my me," Eris moaned, scrubbing at her blood spattered face with one hand. "It wasn't enough that I got paired up with one pervert. Just put your armor back on. More demons are sure to be coming soon."
"Yes, of course. You three! Help me put my plate back on," Darkness ordered.
"Why should we listen to you?" Custodisi demanded, but Waamudes and Karstodes were already moving.
"Because, brother, she too walks the path of the swole," Karstodes explained as he helped Darkness back into her gear.
"Say, do you enjoy promethean baths?" Waamudes asked curiously.
Darkness shook her head, but looked intrigued. "What is that?"
"Don't be silly, she is a woman," Custodisi scoffed. "They do not enjoy promethean baths. They are far too delicate."
"It is true. No woman could stand to be doused in holy promethium oil, then lit on fire," Santodes agreed.
"You...you have baths where they light you on fire?!" Darkness demanded.
Looking smug, Custodisi nodded. "Yes, you see? She might be swole, but she is still a woman, who are weak and-"
"I MUST HAVE ONE OF THESE! ERIS, WHY HAS NO ONE EVER TOLD ME YOU CAN BATH IN OIL AND THEN BE LIT ON FIRE!?" Darkness shouted, spreading her arms wide, a look of pure delight on her face.
"Because if you pour gasoline on most people and light it, they die," Eris muttered, standing up and wiping futility at the gore on her pants.
"I would not die! My defense is at maximum! I can barely feel normal fire, and dragonfire only gives me a nice healthy tan!" Darkness cried. "Oh, oh you simply must let me try these promethium bathes, fellow knights!"
"Er, well, to earn one, you have to slay 10,000 daemons and heretics," Custodisi protested.
"That is not hard! Eris, how many have I slain so far!?"
"Well I wasn't really counting, but we had to have killed a couple thousand each," Eris said, gesturing to the positive mountains of mangled daemons around them.
"Very well! I have slain 2000 demons this day! It shall not be overly hard to kill only 8000 more!" Darkness started to walk away towards where the demons had fled too, only to pause and look back. "What are you waiting for!? Don't you want to slay 10,000 demons and earn a horrific bath where you are rubbed with horrible, smelly, toxic oil, then immolate yourselves as ravaging flames consume your body!?"
"I'm good. I'll go back and rejoin the others," Eris said, turning around. The Fabstodes, however, began to quiver with anticipation as well.
"Brothers, this woman...she awakens things in me!" Santodes rumbled. "My fusion core PULSATES with excitement."
"I think I like her! Are we sure she's a woman? I don't normally feel this way about women," Waamudes asked.
"She is a pillar of Swole!" Karstodes decreed. "Come, brave warrior! Together we shall show these heretics and monsters the true power of Swolitude!"
"Well, I suppose it wouldn't be too bad fighting alongside a woman. It has been far too long since we got to slay 10,000 demons," Custodisi agreed, just as the skitter of feet and the snarl of demonic voices reached their ears.
"Yes! And do not worry about using me as your living shield! I wish to be battered, bruised, and maimed by these filthy creatures!" Darkness said, saliva dripping down her jaw as her eyes glowed with mania.
"But that's what I like!" Waamudes complained.
"No, you idiot, you like battering, bruising, and maiming demons," Custodisi hissed.
"Oh, that's right. I do hope I brought enough oil. I must stay well lubricated for this!" Waamudes declared.
Then, the five silliest defenders of humanity began to brutally slaughter the most horrific conjurings of the warp with cries of delight and squeals of glee.
Eris wondered if this world was too far gone to be worth saving if there were four more copies of Darkness here.
Far deeper within the webway, lost amidst the winding pathways, stood an ancient doorway guarded by the most powerful and deadly creations of the Aeldari race when they were in their prime. Beyond those gates lay the Black Library, the largest collection of knowledge anywhere in the materium or immaterium, and lair of the Last Free God of the Eldar; Cegorach, the Laughing God. Normally, all his japes and jests were bitter, and his punchlines cruel. Today, however, was shaping up to be a day of a different sort.
The defenses of the Black Library were currently being overwhelmed, and Cegorach was dashing towards them, the bells on his jester's cap jingling ominously, his black and silver motley blending with the shadows of the book shelves. He had just arrived when the doors suddenly burst open to the swell of trumpets and violins as the music from the finale of Ode to Joy boomed through the normally silent library. The open gates revealed the source of the music, which was a marching band composed of tiny dolls bearing miniature instruments and dressed in snappy uniforms, all wearing silver and black masks as they gleefully toddled to their doom, still playing their song. At their head strode Vanir, bearing a marshal's baton and pumping it to the beat, the defensive guns of the library booming in place of cannons.
"Moi has returned!" Vanir laughed as he strode into the library, his marching band shuffling in around him as they continued to bang and toot away.
"So I see," Cegorach growled. "Is this your idea of a joke?"
"Oh yes, moi is well aware that libraries normally require utmost silence! Thus moi seeks to drive thee and all thy harlequins to utmost despair!" Vanir laughed, twirling his baton in one hand.
"You know, you're the only demon ever to set foot in here, and I told you last time you were free to enter at any time. So I suppose this is funny, but not in a 'ha-ha' way, but more in a 'what is wrong with you' kind of way," Cegorach mused, watching as more ranks of dolls band members assembled in the formerly peaceful library. "Rounds for those shuriken cannons are not cheap."
"Ah, but moi has brought you something far more valuable than simple munitions for thy canon!" Vanir laughed, and snapped his fingers. Instantly, the music swelled to a crescendo, and Vanir bowed, stepping aside to reveal a small figure dressed in a black dress, with a black veil covering her face. "Moi presents to you Satella, the Envious."
Cegorach blinked, taken aback. He cocked his head to one side for a moment, then hissed. "Who is this? I sense…"
He sprang forward, a knife in his hand, but thousands of black hands sprang out of the dark figure, and he dodged to the side. "Be at ease, Laughing One. I come not to harm you."
"Who are you?" Cegorach demanded, his eyes squinting behind his mask. "What are you? I know Vanir is not of materium or immaterium, but you… in you I sense something else entirely."
The figure slid back her veil, revealing pale skin, purple eyes, and silvery hair. And two pointed ears, though not as long as that of an aeldari. There was something about her though, something he remembered.
"Goddess," he breathed out. "But I thought-the prophecy has not yet come to pass. Ynnead is not yet born."
"Nor will she ever be, if you accept my offer," Satella told the laughing god. "For there is not room for two aeldari goddesses of death upon this plane."
Sliding around Satella, Cegorach studied her, both on the materium, and the immaterium. She was a goddess, power incarnate, a manifestation of ideals that could take on physical form, as he was. "You are not Aeldari."
"I am a half-breed," Satella agreed. "Where I come from, I am known as a half-elf."
"That is impossible," Cegorach laughed, covering his mask with a hand. "A half breed?! You claim to be half mon'keigh?"
Satella made a face. "That is what you call them? Monkeys? Oh dear. It doesn't help that it roughly translates to barbarian."
"Well. That is what they are," Cegorach growled. "But such a pairing is impossible, and would produce no issue."
"By the current rules, yes. However, should I become the goddess of death for both species, that shall change," Satella replied simply.
Cegorach considered this. "You lie."
"I cannot. It is not within my nature, and you know as much. I can lie no more than you can."
Feigning shock, Cegorach put a hand to his breast. "You would claim the god of tricksters and deceivers cannot lie?"
"I am certain you can make the truth dance a merry tune, but a god can no more lie than a mortal can stand outside of time," Satella answered.
"Ah. But the Ruinous Powers can lie," Cegorach argued, a gleam in his eye.
A snarl curled Satella's lips. "They are no gods. They are anathema. And they must be destroyed."
"To do so would alter the very nature of reality," Cegorach mused. "But then again, allowing aeldari and...human, to interbreed would require the same."
"We are gods. What is reality to us but something to mold to better suit those given in to our care?" Satella asked.
"Hmmm. I like you," Cegorach mused. "You're with those others, aren't you? The ones trailing around after the god-that-is-not and the rest of the humans."
"They are my friends. We call ourselves The Seven; we are a pantheon from beyond your reality. Our leader, Madoka, wishes to save this universe."
"Oh? And by that, do you mean she wishes to save humanity?" Cegorach demanded. "I have little interest in human gods, though them gaining seven such would worry me."
"Madoka is...more focused on humanity. She does wish to save the aeldari, and the t'au, but...she has not had good experiences with alien races. To her, humanity comes first."
"And to you?" Cegorach demanded, knives appearing behind his back.
"I am the voice of the lost and the scorned. Those that the world has left behind, for whom even hope has turned her back. I am Satella the Envious: and I will see all judged fairly. When I was mortal, I was maligned for my heritage. I will see that no race suffers the same."
"All races?" Cegorach demanded, still keeping the knives ready.
Satella hesitated. "All races that can. The orks, the necrons, and the tyranids...I do not see a way to live with them peaceably. I shall grant them the peace of death. But they have no place in my halls."
Considering that, Cegorach nodded, the knives vanishing. "Very well. I don't like it, but you're a better option than She Who Thirsts, and I can't counteract both the god-that-is-not and seven new goddesses on my own. I need allies."
"I have come to you as one," Satella agreed. "And what of you, Vanir?"
The Duke of Hell, who had been directing his band in a performance of The Hall of the Mountain King, paused. "Moi? Moi has no desire to play in thy games. Moi simply wishes to humble the four who make a mockery of demonhood. And denying the overly lewd one of her favorite sort of souls would cause such a great deal of despair that moi simply cannot resist the temptation."
"So long as you remain helpful, I shall put in a good word with Komekko for you," Satella promised.
Vanir gave the goddess a disgusted look, then snapped his fingers, making his entire collection of dolls vanish to dust as their instruments clattered to the floor noisy. "Attempting to bribe moi. Absurd. As if moi would ever accept the good will of deities. Farewell, laughing god who jests in vain. Moi shall seek more pleasant company." And then Vanir was simply gone, his directors baton waving once, then clattering to the ground.
Cegorach and Satella glanced at the mess, and the trickster god muttered under his breath something about "beaten at his own game." Satella, however, began to neatly sweep up the dust and collect the instruments, using her thousands of invisible grasping hands. "I cannot stand messes. Vanir would be intolerable were he not so useful at times. He has been helpful in the past, and Eris claims he will be so again."
"That sounds like quite the story. But one for another time. I would have you meet with the leaders of the aeldari. I think for a start, I should have my harlequins introduce you to Eldrad and Vect. They can-"
"Eldrad Ulthran I will meet with, and any of the Craftworld, Exodite, or even Corsair leaders. But if you take me to Commorragh, I will not rest until it is destroyed, its every inhabitant dragged to my halls for judgement, and its horrors blotted from the galaxy for all time," Satella snarled, her teeth suddenly flashing, and turning to fangs for a brief moment.
"The drukhari are still my people," Cegorach warned. "Tread carefully, Satella the Envious."
"You must choose, then. I will NOT tolerate a band of sadists, slavers, and rapists among my followers. If they repent and throw themselves at my feet, I may only kill them and judge them before reincarnating them. But if they resist me, I shall see them hunted down and exterminated, their souls put through every iota of pain they inflicted over their long, wicked lives. So what will it be, Cegorach the Lone God? Salvation for those who are worthy of it, or damnation for all because of a group of monsters?"
"You are...hmm. I suppose you are a goddess in truth. Fickle and capricious by nature," Cegorach chuckled. Then he turned serious. "Their souls? Would you give them over to She Who Thirsts?"
"Never. Not even they deserve that. Do we have a bargain?" Satella demanded.
Cegorach hesitated, but only for a moment. He liked Vect and the Drukhari, after a fashion. They were more entertaining than the stick in the mud Asuryani, that was certain. But theirs was a dead end for the race, and if the eldar vanished, so would he. It wasn't a hard choice; save most of the Aeldari, or none. And this goddess seemed the best game in town.
"You've got yourself a deal. I won't help you destroy the Drukhari; they are my followers as well, after all. But I won't stand in your way either. Now. How can you save my children?"
"Once they begin to worship me, their souls are bound to me. Slaanesh can fight me for their souls if she wishes, but will not be a fight she can win. Not with my friends with me. And the souls will default to me regardless, as I am ever with those who follow me," Satella proclaimed.
"Hmm. Well, I think the easiest thing to do would be-"
"There is an aeldari group under attack somewhere, surely. Show me where, and I will save them," Satella stated.
Cegorath blinked, not certain what to make of that. "There are, of course, but they would be quite distant from us. Even I do not simply pop out of the webway and save my harlequins. I would be at great risk to do so, for the Ruinous Powers are ever present. To go alone would be near suicide."
"I will not be alone. I have my faithful servants on hand to aid me," Satella stated. "And, if the Chaos Gods are so foolish as to confront me in the materium, Madoka would gladly summon all of us to give battle. We have the advantage there."
"Mmm. Very well. One I favor is currently on an ill-fated expedition; she would suffer a loss, and fall from grace. The orkead are the foes you would face. This should not be a problem for you, would it?" Cegorath prompted.
"Overgrown semi-sentient fungus could do with fumigation," Satella sniffed. "Show me."
Cegorath summoned up a mirror, showing an image of eldar in corsair gear facing down a group of greenskins. Their leader was a warlock, and seemed to be bargaining with the largest of the orks. Cegorath glanced at where Satella had been, only to jerk back as she simply vanished. He looked back at his mirror, and was stunned to see her appear only an instant later.
"Teleportation," he hissed. "How? To transverse the warp...no...she could not have…" the laughing god started to giggle, and watched the game unfold.
Back in the materium, Captain Yvraine was losing her patience with Kaptain Grimgutz, who was attempting to bully his way into a larger share of the spoils. Around her lay a wrecked human starport, and beyond it the remains of an Imperial outpost. The coffers had been raided, but the real prizes were the ships, raw materials, and food stuffs. Not to mention the live mon'keigh taken as slaves.
"Me boyz did more o' the work, ya filthy pointy eads! Now dat means we be gettin' a bigger share o' the loot! So unless yous gonna fight us, take yer cut and zog off!" Grimgutz snarled, picking up his impressive gut and flopping it down so that it shuddered, making the black tattoo of an ork head open and close it's jaw as if it were laughing.
Yvraine opened her mouth to tell the ork where to stick it, and possibly blow his stupid head off, when she detected movement through the warp. She reached out with her senses, and her blood ran cold. There were more orks here than she had realized. If they didn't get out now, she and her crew could be cut off and surrounded, and they would get no share of the prize, nor would they likely survive.
"Fine. But know this, ork. You will regret crossing Captain Yvraine and her crew," she snarled, and began to lead her men away. Only for the orks she had not sensed jump out from behind a bush, leering at her men behind their purple paint.
"Oi, about time you gitz got inta position!" Kaptain Grimgutz snarled. "Well, pointy ead. Looks like ye won't be gettin none of the loot! In fact, I be thinkin ya might make fight loot ourselves!"
"You fool," Sentras, one of Yvraine's lieutenants snarled. "I knew working with the orkead was a mistake! You've led us to our doom, Yvraine!"
"Shut up and fight, maggots!" Yvraine barked, raising her shuriken pistol.
Which was when three women suddenly appeared in their midsts, causing both the eldar and orks to jerk away, surprised. All were dressed oddly, in dresses of all things, two like some sort of domestics, and the third as a lady in black.
"Exterminate the orks," the one in black ordered. "No need to be gentle with them."
"As you say, my lady," the domestics echoed. They were of a similar height and build, one with blue hair, the other with red, and appeared to be mon'keigh females who had just entered adulthood by their species reckoning.
"What's all dis den? Some o' the slaves escapin' from the holds? Which o' you gitz didn't lock the cages!" Grimgutz roared.
"Rem, these orks appear to be slavers," the pink haired one hissed, and a spear with a long, sword like blade appeared in her hands.
"They do Ram, we must clean up this mess for Lady Satella," the blue one agreed, a massive spiked ball and chain forming in her own hands. Suddenly, the foreheads of both women glowed, long curving horns appearing. Yvraine reappraised her initial impression of them being human.
"HELP THE MON'KEIGH!" Yvraine roared, diving for cover and firing her shuriken pistol as the orks milled about confused. "KILL THE GREENSKINS!"
The orks bellowed battle cries and rushed forward or started spraying bullets recklessly across the already damaged human starport. Yvraine's crew at last sprang into action, taking cover amidst the rubble and firing at the orks. At least, they started to, only the orks near them all simply began to die. There was no spray of gore from the weapons of the two psykers or whatever they were, no display of warp power. The orks simply stopped charging or firing their guns, and slumped over, dead. Kaptain Grimgutz had rushed up to the woman in black, only to falter, dropping his cutlass. He'd reached out one hand to steady himself on the woman, the other clutching at his chest.
"How odd. You have a sort of soul, but it is war, and chaos. You have no place with me," the woman in black declared. Then she brushed the massive ork kaptain's hand off her shoulder, and he fell over, dead.
As for the twin psykers, they were slaughtering orks as if they were losseainn, or perhaps demons. Yvraine swallowed. That woman in black had to be an Inquisitor. If she were, that might mean Yvraine and her crew were dead. Taking a deep breath and muttering a prayer to whatever gods of her people yet lived, Yvraine jumped out, her power sword crackling with warp power as she aimed it for the woman in black's head. Something, Yvraine didn't know what, for she detected no warp energy, arrested her, immobilizing the corsair captain completely.
"You would slay the very one you called upon for aid, child?" the woman asked, turning to regard Yvraine.
"What...what do you mean?" Yvraine demanded, realizing the woman was speaking perfect Aeldari, her only accent a faint craftworlder one of indeterminate origin.
"You asked your gods for help. I am here," the woman replied. She frowned around at the dead orks. "It seems, however, Cegorath has played a prank on me. You are a pirate. But you do not seem to be Drukhari. What are you doing here, child?"
"We...we came upon the orks, looting the human settlement," Yvraine replied, carefully using the mon'keigh word for themselves. The woman's features...she looked as though she could be aledari or mon'keigh. What was she? "We...we sought to get a share of the-"
Something brushed Yvraine's heart, and pain blossomed in her chest. Her words ceased, and she let out a soft groan.
"Do not lie to me, child. I shall ask you once more: what are you doing here."
"I...I am Captain Yvraine of the Silver Wind. We...we struck a deal with the orks to attack the mon'keigh," Yvraine babbled, all thought of falsehood vanishing as she looked deeply into this creature's eyes. Those were not the eyes of a mon'keigh. Not even one of their inquisitors. Those were the eyes of someone who had lived for millenia longer than even Yvraine had, perhaps older than the eldest farseers. "They were going to renege on the bargain, and slaughter me and my crew. We were going to try to escape, but then they sprung an ambush. I have strike craft waiting in orbit, and I've summoned them, but they're late. I-"
There were two explosions overheard, and Yvraine groaned as she looked up to see twin fireballs blooming. That would be her skiffs. She saw ork craft, belching smoke, wheeling towards the ground.
But the reaction of her captor drew Yvraine's eyes back to the woman in black.
"Six of my children slain. Their soul gems destroyed. Rem! Ram! Destroy those ork craft. I shall not allow Slaanesh to claim the fallen!" the woman roared, and Yvraine suddenly found herself free as the woman launched herself into the sky faster than a grav cannon could have. Stumbling to her feet, Yvraine gazed up as the woman vanished in the smoky air. She shook her head and looked around, but before she could collect her thoughts, the corsaire captain felt the warp twist around her, and fear deeper than anything she had ever felt gripped her heart.
She Who Thirsts had turned her gaze upon the world where Yvraine stood. And Slaanesh was sending some calling cards.
The air was suddenly swept free of smoke, revealing the tiny form of the woman in black hovering in the sky, as the ork craft fled in terror. The air rent and twisted, taking on purple and pink hues as portals opened to the immaterium. From them stepped no fewer than six Keepers of Secrets, and they too hung in the air, surrounding the tiny woman.
"We are doomed," Yvraine breathed as more portals opened, and around her a host of daemonettes appeared.
"Captain, I just want to say, you are just the worst," Sentras hissed.
"SHUT UP AND FIGHT FOR YOUR SOULS!" Yvraine roared, firing blindly as the demonettes closed in.
"Check yourself before you wreck yourself, gal pal!" the voice of one of the keepers roared. "Those souls are ours, hands off!"
In the sky, the tiny speck became a great pillar of terrible light, resolving into a beautiful and deadly glow, radiating from a being like nothing that had walked the materium for an age. A creature with pale white skin, a thousand jet black arms, eyes blacker than the void, tall pointed ears, and long silvery hair. THEY ARE MINE.
Thought fled from Yvraine, and she fell to her knees, gasping, as a voice pounded in her skull. It was louder than sound, deeper than space, and more ancient than time. Around her daemonettes squealed in pain, some vanishing back into the immaterium at the very touch of the voice.
"I'd like to see you try, girl friend!" the Keeper of Secrets hissed. "Don't try that sassy voice on us! This is our world, and these souls belong to us! Now scurry on off before we-"
I AM SATELLA THE ENVIOUS. The voice declared, and Yvraine knew to her very soul that those words were true and terrible. I AM THE JEALOUS LOVER. AND I AM THE GODDESS OF DEATH. THE SOULS OF THE DEAD BELONG TO ME, AND NO OTHER.
Even the Keepers were shaken as more daemonettes vanished, but the Greater Daemons did not relent, closing in further, raising blades in all four of their arms.
"Ok, time to show you who is the number one yandre bitch in this universe! Our mistress is-"
DIE.
The word was not directed at Yvraine, and yet, she passed out, unable to withstand its terrible weight. Her soul was nearly severed from her body simply in the aftershock of it. She did not see the six Greater Demons cry out in one voice, then wraith, twist, and their bodies collapse back into warp matter, their souls and consciousnesses destroyed by the one word.
Yvraine did not see that Rem and Ram had to catch their mistress, the display of power having taken much from her. Instead, she awoke to find Satella once more in the guise of a mortal, six ghosts of her crew standing before her. They were not as they had been in life, but more perfect, more whole, as they had seen themselves. They shimmered slightly, and appeared faintly surprised.
"I give you a choice," Satlla told the spirits of the slain corsairs. "You may yet choose to go to Slaanesh. I am the Jealous Lover, and once spurned you may never return to me, but I am not a tyrant. You may choose to depart from me. Or, you may accept my embrace, and be welcomed in my halls of rest. There, you will face judgement for your life, and atone for your misdeeds. Though for each kindness you did, for each selfless act, I shall commute your sentence, and reward you. Once you have paid for your crimes, you may enjoy the hospitality of my home. And, in time, you shall be reborn, in this world or another, as I see fit. What do you choose?"
"Choose between you and She Who Thirsts?" one of the ghosts, Helod, Yvraine knew. He had been a good pilot, but a terrible card player. "That's hardly a choice, begging your pardon, ma'am. I'd take eternity in the brig over having my soul eaten." Helod's spirit knelt. "I choose you, my lady."
Satella stepped forward, tilting Helod's head up, and kissing his forehead. "Then be at peace, my love."
Helod's spirit vanished into shimmering light, a smile on his face, as if he were going into the arms of his lover. Which, indeed, he was. The other dead Aeldari quickly agreed to Satella's realm as well, and she kissed each of them, sending them off to a true afterlife.
"Who...who are…?" Yvraine shook her head, and knelt before the goddess. "No, I know who you are. But...but you are not Ynnead, the prophesied one."
"No. I am not," Satella agreed. "I am another, come now, to change the fate of your people. Who are you, child?"
"I...I would be yours, my lady," Yvraine gasped. "Whatever you ask of me. You saved me, and my crew, from death and worse. Whatever you wish of me, I will give you."
"Hmm. A pirate, so ready to give up her ways?" Satella asked, sounding amused.
"I have wandered many paths, my lady. I have been warlock, warrior, and now, yes, pirate captain. For centuries, I have wandered, lost. But now I see a new path for my people. Please, take me into your service. I would be your priestess, the first to swear to you," Yvraine pleaded.
Satella considered this, then nodded. "You will give a great deal in my service to atone for your sins, Yvraine. Much will be asked of you, more than you can imagine. Will you give it?"
"You gave me back hope, my lady. Nothing is too much to ask," Yvraine swore.
"Then rise, Yvraine. I name you the first Archbishop of Envy in this realm. Come. I have saved a few this day. Tomorrow, I plan on saving your people."
Tears of joy slid down Yvraine's cheeks, and she rose and led her crew in the first prayers to the new Goddess of Death of the Aeldari.