Chapter Six
No important reviews to reply to so let's head on to the story.
As for me, I just found the Templin Institute and are currently loving it. I also found 1d4chan which is a good source of lore and also of laughter. Anyway hope ya enjoy this chapter. If you have opinions on how to improve the story, please do post it on the reviews. Also if you had any idea on how to improve the story, post it there also.
Reviews and comments from my readers are music to my eyes and ears. Almost 7K words here. Effort2x. Anyway please do enjoy. Next chapter is more ass kicking. I already have a backbone of the fight scenes with horribly overpowered characters. Frankly the Warhammer40K people makes the Mass Effect ones incompetent to the extreme.
…
Omega, Ariannelle is not impressed as she observes the so-called "Capital of the Terminus System" through the view port of the observatory deck of the Normandy. She had been unable to glean information about the station more due to the lack of images it had on the extranet. Apparently the general information sharing medium of this galaxy does not cover very well the "seedier parts" very well. In a way she does understand why. Living outside the law after all, the last thing that you want to be in is to be under the continuous scrutinization of the general public ogling at your ships and weapons. That is just like loading a bullet on your own gun and placing it in your temple.
Back to Omega though; she lets her eyes wander to the weird looking Asteroid-city-mining thingy covered in red lights floating at the void of space. For being the center of criminals, mercenaries and thugs, it is not that impressive in size. In fact some of the smallest mining zones of the Adeptus Mechanicus back home are bigger than this lumpy piece of rock. This makes Arianne wonder if all things in this galaxy are made in such a smaller scale. If it is, she can already feel the roller coaster ride of disappointment inside her bones.
"Attention, boarding party to the station please report to the docking tube," the familiar female robotic voice sounds through the speakers of the room.
"Are you coming?" the familiar snooty tone of the Farseer makes the Primarch roll her eyes as she acquiesces walking behind the Eldar to the docking tube. With a little bit of Biomancy and some stealing of a little amount(large amount) of supplies from the armoury, she had been able more or less to recreate a lesser version of her Primarch armor that was badly damaged with her battle with Nurgle without anyone noticing. So far she had bits and pieces that were salvaged added to her new one. The lack of adamantium is certainly a sore point.
For the life of her she wishes that Ela Ashbel drop this act of being so "high and mighty". She had more than once probed the Farseer's mind when she's sleeping if only to pass the time. Normally not even human Primarchs had the subtlety to peer through the mind of an Eldar without them noticing no. It would be like a Space Marine brute forcing itself through a door; all loud and messy. Fortunately Ariannelle is not simply a human primarch. Thus it an easy thing for one inheriting a part of the massive psychic power of the Emperor of Mankind with the gracefulness and control of an Eldar to enter the mindscape of the newly minted Farsseer of Bleeding Tears.
Suffice it to say that it is hard to be rude or angry at Ela Ashbel after seeing her entire life. The young Eldar is trying so hard to put up the façade of the strong Farseer that she's putting it way too thickly. Deep inside she is kind-hearted, wanting nothing more than to dance on the dews of the rain of her planet. Her talents lie more in creativity and craft, leaning heavily on the Path of the Dancer and the Artisan. The only reason she had taken the current position she was holding was because of her immense psychic control that would server her well as a Farseer. In a cruel galaxy like theirs where war was constant, such a need was great.
"Wait," the musical voice of the Eldar goddess made the two of them stop as they look at Isha walking towards them. Immediately Ela Ashbel fell to her knees in respect while Ariannelle just rolled her eyes as she inclines her head in acknowledgement at Isha. She owed the goddess big time with her therapy. Ariannelle had never felt so light-hearted after her rather uncalled crying.
"Take this with you," the goddess says handing the two of them forearm bracers made of…
"Wraithbone," Ela Ashbel gasps, her hands trembling as she receives the gift from the goddess.
A small smile simply appears on Isha's lips at that. "I sung them myself a couple of hours before. They are designed to form into any weapon of your choice as long as it is not energy projected. It can also be influenced by your psychic capabilities giving whatever form it takes the same bleeding edge coated with energy that is quite effective back at our galaxy. Both your weapons are damaged when we arrived in this world and I thought this might help,"
"T-thank you my lady," the Eldar Farseer bows almost on her knees but Arianne simply nods in silent acknowledgement and thanks to the Eldar goddess of fertility earning her a glare from Ela for not bowing which she discreetly gives an equivalent of a mental "Bleeeh" tongue, eyes and funny infuriating the Farseer even more.
Looking at the band she allows her latent abilities influence the band, watching in fascination as it melts like liquid mercury; morphing like goo down her left arm before reaching her hand forming into what seems to be the most beautiful version of an Imperial bolter and loaded with what seems to be.
"Wraithbone," she whispers more to herself as she examines the shell from the gun's chamber. Instead of the heavy shell that the Adeptus Mechanicus make, it is lighter and more sturdy.
"I cannot unfortunately make it completely the same as the materials back home. You don't have to worry about losing ammunition though, as long as you keep your psychic presence active; any projectile it makes need no reloading. It's connection to the Great Ocean will do that for you,"
"Interesting," Ariannelle simply says as she lets the Bolter dissolve back to a band at her arm.
She might not show it but she's fangirling inside. A weapon directly connected to the Warp and not transforming into an amalgamation filled with teeth and tongue with extra tentacles ready to devour its user, it's a crafting marvel. She made a mental note to pick Isha's brain about it for later. Like her creator, the scholar inside her is very curious about this.
"Stay safe both of you, okay?" Isha says looking at both of them before her face morphs into one of a mischievous smirk. "And do try to make a lasting impression on our employer. It is only…..courteous to do so,"
Oh-ho, with those words, the half-Eldar's opinion of the Eldar goddess just goes up a notch. Goddess of chastity and fertility she may be, but at least the goddess had style. She bet that she would had got along great with her father if they ever met.
As it is, she nods once more in thanks at Isha and gestures at a scowling Ela Ashbel to follow her as they head out to the airlock where Commander Shepard is waiting for them.
She's just got an idea of what she wants to do with her new found shifting wraithbone band.
….
To say that Shepard is nervous is the understatement of the century. It had been hours ever since she sent that message to Admiral Hackett about the possibility of new contact and she had not received any kind of response whatsoever. That is very concerning since she personally classified the message as urgent under her old identification numbers. At worst the message had been intercepted by some low-life in this lawless part of the galaxy. If that's the case then she would have every bounty hunter and pirate gunning after her ship if only to get their hands on the new species. At best the message was randomly lost in the void of space and did not reach its intended destination. It's possible since the distance between the Terminus Systems and Alliance High Command is quite high after all.
She shakes her head though as she focuses her thoughts on the present. She is about to enter the underbelly of the Terminus Systems after all and the only place where every thug and low life come to enter business. It had been drilled repeatedly to them back at N7 school to always be aware of their surroundings when entering Omega. Murder is legal here and the only reason that the different factions hadn't started massacring each other was because nobody wants to mess with Aria, the self-proclaimed pirate queen. Ruthless, Cunning and great biotic talent with connections that Alliance intelligence can't even keep track of; she is the person that Shepard would be meeting today. That means she would be on her A game and make sure that her two new "recruits" coming with her act as normal as possible. Unfortunately for Shepard, her luck is not that good.
She tries her damnest not to show her apprehension as Arianne appears wearing an armor form-fitting and coloured gold of all things with her wings at her back in full display. Her head is also shown catching Shepard by surprise at the sky-blue colour that her long tresses are coated with. She didn't even want to know when that happened. As for her companion, she still retains those dark red robes of hers with the gold trimmings, her white hair falling like a waterfall behind her angled ears. At her hand is a white spear…staff etched with some runes on the flat of its blade. All in all despite looking criminally gorgeous, the two stands out like a sore thumb. If not for the fact that Shepard needs to know what they are capable of, she would have reserved them for the more clandestine missions where there are no prying eyes.
"Add that to how people chalk me as crazy," Shepard mentally bemoans her fate before gesturing the two to follow her as they exit the pristine air-lock of the Normandy giving them access to a putrid access port smelling like blood, shit and piss.
The three barely managed to make ten steps to the entrance when they are immediately accosted by a Salarian who looks high on drugs if the way his eyes move eratically and heavily dilated at that.
"Hi, you're new to Omega aren't you? I can always tell whe-ARGGGHHHHHHHH!" a girlish ear splitting scream leaves his lips and Shepard can't blame him as she watches in horror as thousands of what seems to be micro blades bisected the poor amphibian to bloody chunks that now splatters the ground, the walls and the boxes.
"That worked perfectly well if I might say so," the resident elf with wings comments looking at what seems to be an overlarge handgun made of white….bone?
"What the hell was that?!" Shepard can't blame herself for sounding shrill. It is not everyday after all you see a living breathing being reduced to corned beef.
The angel to her credit only owlishly blinks at her looking terribly innocent. "He plans to mug us and charge us with exorbitant fees. I simply rectified the problem,"
"And do you have to reduce him to…to, these?" Shepard gestures wildly at the minced Salarian.
"Of course, I had only exercised my right to defend myself in this pirate station. Should I not?" she asks making Shepard want to palm her face in frustration. Barely made it out of the Normandy and already she is developing migraine.
Apparently she is not the only one with the less than stellar sentiment judging from the annoyed frown of Ela Ashbel at the side Arianne who promptly whacks the angel at the head none too gently with the flat of her spear.
"Behave Arianne," she chides in a disapproving tone making the other pout muttering something like: "I wanna have some fun killing some random xenos" at Ela Ashbel before sighing in defeat as the other's eyes narrowed.
As it is, Shepard watches in fascination as the weapon at the hands of the angel dissolves like rough sand coursing through her arm into a band around her upper right shoulder. Composing herself as best as she could after that gory event, Shepard looks at the angel posing her best commander aura in front of her.
"Next time you only engage if I say so, am I understood?"
"Fine, fine, way for Ela to ruin my fun," she murmurs making Shepard mentally sweatdrop. For some reason she's got a feeling that this is going to be a long mission.
She's just ready to ask about the shuriken pistol melting thing when she sees a Batarian bearing Aria's mark approaching them with a scowl, an assault rifle posed and ready at his hands as his four dart around the chunky bits of the former Salarian staining the station.
"Trouble always follows you Shepard," he comments none too pleasantly and Shepard mentally groans knowing that this is going to be troublesome.
…..
Five minutes into the station and Ela Ashbel already wants to take a bath if only to rinse the dirtiness clinging to her fair skin. Seriousl this place reminds her of the cities of the Mon-Keigh back home, dirty, lawless, filled with stinking odor that glues to you like an annoying bug. For the life of her she doesn't understand why these stinking second rate species enjoy such loud music. Back at their universe, the music is filled with sermons, hymnals and everything religiously related in praise to their Corpse-Emperor. Here the music is also loud and filled with the blazing drum of beat music that her heart is beating with the loud sound in tandem. Ela Ashbel can't help but feel longing for her fallen Craftworld trapped at their small planet which they now call home.
Too engrossed in her thoughts while wishing the ugly atmosphere around her to go away, Ela Ashbel was caught completely off guard as a stinging pain erupted on her delectable rump followed by a meaty "SMACK!" reverberating loudly. She can't help it, a loud "eep" leaves her lips as she jumps at least a foot off the ground.
"Oh she's packing boys, there is some great potential in her as-AAARGHHHH!" the drunk Batarian who had smacked her rear cut off early his crow of victory as he found his arm cut off from elbow below, courtesy of the Wychblade at the hand of a fuming and blushing Farseer. Ela Ashbel is furious. Never had she been so debased being touched by someone without her permission.
His friends seeing their bro in danger immediately rush her despite being in a drunken tipsy swaying back and forth as they ran (more like hobbled) towards her slurring their threats. Of course like any self-respecting Eldar, Ela Ashbel is not going to take this lying down. Three extra squelches later and the drunk Batarians are now screaming their hearts out while writhing in the floor as each of them are missing an arm at least while Ela Ashbel is cleaning her Wychblade with a nearby rag.
"And here I thought you are against undue violence without reason," comments an amused Primarch who had been watching the scene the entire time alongside Fate's Whipping Girl who is massaging her head in disbelief.
"They touched me," Ela Ashbel says simply throwing the rag away to one of the still moaning Batarians clutching his severed arm.
"Within good reason, it is a very delectable looking ass after all," Ela Ashbel can't help but glare at the illegally beautiful half-Eldar, a faint red hue appearing on her cheeks. While annoyed, she can't help but feel a bit flattered at being complimented by Ariannelle.
She's just wondering if she can playfully swing her sword at the rather suggestive Primarch when the Mon-Keigh Commander walks past the two of them with a huff gesturing for them to follow. Throwing one more half-hearted glare at her companion from their original world, Ela Ashbel follows the red haired Mon-Keigh as they entered the club.
It takes years of training to have the control and power of becoming a Farseer, and even more years to be called an experienced one. Fortunately for Ela Ashbel she trumps the former, but unfortunately for her, she's desperately lacking on the latter. Eldar react strongly to emotions, that is something not commonly known to the universe back home due to the established Eldar Paths. Now for Ela Ashbel to see level upon level of scantily clad Mon-Keigh and Asari species dancing over a red and pink pillar of light, she feels definitely unsettled. Never in her long years did she see anything like this. Sure she had seen war, death, poverty, sickness and many more in the face, but this? Definitely, no. In fact in her opinion this place can belong to a Slaanesh cult.
"Hey," a firm hand grasping her wrist jolts the Farseer out of her trance as she blinks owlishly at Ariannelle's face. "Come, it is this way. Pay no mind to your surroundings and follow me,"
Gulping and pulling herself together, Ela does as she is told following the Primarch as they jostle past the crowds amid the disco lights. More than one points at their direction and she mentally winced at the amount of attention and thoughts being directed at her and the half-Eldar. Plus there is also the familiar stench of lust and desire being directed at them. Living in a society where everyone controls their emotions and thoughts to a T, makes Ela light-headed at the openness currently surrounding her. It is not surprising since Eldar physiology makes them more attractive by leaps and bounds compared to the normal human. There's also the small fact that she and Ariannelle is at least half a head taller than anyone else and dressed completely differently. Once more she can't help but wish that she has the same experience as most farseers, able to control their thoughts and emotions with mental certainty, unlike the tense nervousness she is feeling right now.
"You're clear Shepard, Aria's expecting you," the Batarian guard gestures upward to the club making Ela Ashbel focus once more at their current objective instead of the stares targeted seemingly at her and the half-Eldar.
"Well I guess that means we're going up," the Mon-Keigh Commander says more to herself than the two of them as they head up. Unfortunately they barely made it inside the room before they are met by a dozen weapons pointed at their faces.
….
"Stand still,"
Of course they should be scanned and expected. Like hell however will Jane Shepard, hero extraordinaire allow some random Batarian scan her body, his meaty hands hovering way to close to her breasts.
Grabbing the scruff of the Batarian, she infuses her fist with biotic power before hurling him through the wall behind her. His body slams with a large crunch at the wall, alive but dazed.
"Fucking Alliance-," the rest of the "royal guards" of Omega tried clicking their trigger only to result in a symphony of screams as they suddenly found themselves lacking hands, their appendages cut off from the wrist below. Shepard just blinks as she sees Ariannelle's wings slowly turning back from steel to its feathery fluffy form.
"She did not mention her wings could do that," Shepard thinks to herself. She makes a mental note to ask about it later though as she raises a questioning eyebrow at the "Eldar". A scowl appears on her lips though at the rather innocent face she gets in return.
Infuriated, Shepard turns her attention back at the Pirate Queen who to her credit doesn't seem fazed even with half of her guard retinue sobbing, bleeding and moaning at the ground. The other half on the other hand seems not to eager to jump and join the fray. Shepard can't blame them, it is not every day you see a being with wings, correction, a being with wings who could rip you apart.
"I was right then in the assumption that trouble follows you everywhere you go Commander," the Queen of Omega says nonlachantly although Shepard can see her gripping the butt of her Mattock Rifle.
"You know that I am coming?"
A small smirk appears on the Asari's face. "Everything that creeps and crawls on Omega I know. I had your ship tagged the moment it arrived on the system,"
"Impressive," Shepard admits truthfully.
"Now unto negotiations then; since I don't want to waste my time and I've got a feeling that you don't with yours. You do know Omega's one and only rule right Commander Shepard?"
"It seems a little late to be reminded of that with the current state of your guards," Shepard gestures to the crying Batarians and even one Turian bleeding at the ground.
"Guards can be replaced, no matter," waves Aria off before sitting on her couch and gesturing for Shepard to do the same beside hers. Her eyes raise though as the other two companions of Shepard sits on the other end without her permission.
She can't help but glare at the two who seems for some reason to be causing trouble for no reason other than pissing her off.
"It seems that the companions you keep around you are becoming more interesting Shepard," comments Aria with a smirk. Of course Aria had to notice her glare.
"They're good at what they do. That's all that matters," Shepard says rebuffing the subtle start of intelligence gathering that the Pirate Queen is doing. "So you are not concerned that we are here to kill you?"
Aria only snorts at that as she gestures for one of the Batarians to drag her bloodied guards outside while receiving a drink. "Please Commander Shepard, do not insult my intelligence. I've read your profile, you are a hero through and through and you have a reputation of not gunning down unarmed people. Besides if you've planned to kill me, you would not have bothered going through the front gate. Plus you incapacitated my people, not killed them which would have been more efficient,"
"We might just have missed," points out Shepard.
"Maybe, but even then, I have safeguards that would make sure that you never leave this station alive even if you manage to kill me," says the Asari with a smirk.
"Now that is a challenge that I could be interested on getting past then," replies the Eldar, confidence literally oozing out of her.
Shepard mentally groans as she watches the two face off. One filled with rage and power, and the other, a silent deadly weapon hiding dangers beneath that controlled veil of hers. It is like watching two tigers challenging one another. Jane expected of course that this suicide mission of hers would be hard and will have some bumps along the way. She just didn't expect that it would be this early.
Thankfully salvation does exist in the most improbable of sources.
"ENOUGH!" the familiar musical voice of Ela Ashbel snaps the tension making every eye in the room glare at the pale beautiful woman whose face contains a mask of exasperation and annoyance.
"You!" she snaps at Aria, her angled eyes moving to a glare. "We are not here to take your position or challenge you in any way. We have questions and we mean to get them one way or another. Then we will be off this filthy station of yours! As for you," she levels her glare at Ariannelle whose expression is now like a kid whose mother catches stealing from a cookie jar. "Stop aggravating her for your own amusement. We have bigger fish to fry and please do act like your age,"
"Fine," the confident swagger is gone now replaced that with indifference. "Spoilsport,"
Ela Ashbel simply rolls her eyes before she returns her sharp stare at the Queen of Omega. "Now shall we get on to business or should we continue with this nonsense?"
For a moment the Asari looks like she would want nothing more than to send a shockwave at the two Eldar for the blatant disrespect thrown at her. Shepard lets go of the breathe she is holding though as genuine amusement appears on Aria's face.
"I like your friends Shepard, it is not everyday that I get to be challenged on my own kingdom directly at my face," she says sitting down on the couch gesturing for the three of them to seat though Jane takes notice that the two Eldar remained standing. Aria only raises a painted eyebrow at this but focuses instead at her.
"So what are you here for Shepard? The sooner I get you off my station, the better. Trouble follows you everywhere Shepard and I want as little of it as possible here,"
"Fine, we are looking for a Salarian named Mordin Solus and someone named Archangel for…..,"
…..
"Interesting," Isha mutters to herself as she sits inside the Normandy's medical bay which she had promptly taken over as her temporary quarters. Karin Chawkwas, the resident healer of the ship of course at first had been skeptical with her presence. She can understand why of course. It's not every day that a foreign healer simply barge in your office and declare that she is now working alongside you.
Thus in typical fashion when dealing with mortals, Isha demonstrated her skill of healing (AKA warpcraft) to assuage such doubts. A small massage of the legs (while using warpcraft on broken cells and appendages) of the ship's pilot who seems to be hell-bent on peeking through the cleavage of her dress as she works and Isha had the Normandy's healer gobsmacked as the brittle boned pilot who is usually walking sideways can now stand correctly. The disease apparently had no known cure.
Thus Isha is here now secured in her new "office" with some added decors of flowers and plants she grew from some empty boxes filled with disposable dirt. Karin, bless her soul is still subjecting "Joker" under the microscope apparently checking Isha's handiwork cell by cell much to the pilot's less than stellar amusement as he is poked and prodded.
As for Isha, she immersed herself in the Great Ocean letting her consciousness touch the tendrils of the Immaterium warily. Once, her consciousness might have dominated a large part of the Immaterium. Now however with what little power she had left, she is nothing more than a speck of thought wandering through the void that reflects reality.
Suffice it to say that Isha is both wary and confused at the Immaterium's current state. Back at her original universe, the Great Ocean is wild and powerful, a reflection of the galaxy and the pulses of thought and emotion of its inhabitants. Even back then at the height of the Aeldari Empire before its decadence and fall, the Immaterium always have waves that even the Aeldari gods dare not enter beyond their spheres of influence. This Immaterium however is peaceful, like water inside a glass, serene.
That freaks a large part of Isha out. Being a being of the Great Ocean herself, it is like watching the world in mute silence. Sure there are ripples on the glassy water of the Immaterium, likely due to the current beings alive in this galaxy. However it is muted; like an echo on the void. For the Immaterium to be affected by the thoughts of the Material plane, it takes centuries upon centuries of life. Here however it is as if life never had the chance to affect the Great Ocean. It is as if it had never gotten the chance to do so. Of course the Great Ocean still has beings of power that live even in its muted state, though not as powerful or malevolent as the Dark gods.
Isha shivers as she pulls her connection to the Great Ocean away. Even now the very thought of those ominous beings makes her want to hide in a hole and stay there till the universe imploded on itself.
She takes a breathe as she calms herself down though. She is in this universe and safe. That state however of hers would not be permanent if she simply sits down. No, she can make sure that things that happened to her not be repeated. Right now all she has under her disposal are two Aeldari with one suffering from bad PTSD and the other with a secret personal dislike on killing things; both unsuited for war. She grimaces as she realizes that the only one powerful enough that she "might" use is the Primarch of all people. Somehow she needs to manipulate her to doing things that align themselves on the goddess' desires; difficult but not impossible. The Aeldari after all got their clever manipulation skills from her.
…
"Do you really have to rile her up like that?" Ela Ashbel sighs as the half-Eldar simply gives an innocent look at the Commander who gives off an exasperated sigh as the three of them heads down the noisy club towards the Blue Suns recruiting "freelancers" to take down Archangel. Shepard apparently plans to "join" them so that they'll get a free hitch ride to the scene.
Their talk after all with the Queen of Omega had been fruitful despite the rather tense standoff. The Salarian that they are looking for, named Mordin Solus runs a clinic for refugees on a plagued part of the station and the vigilante had gotten himself trapped pissing off local gangs that run businesses on the station.
Finding themselves finally at the lower room of a club where a small queue of differently armed aliens and Mon-Keigh are lining up, Ela Ashbel follows behind Shepard with Ariannelle in tow. As usual stares follow them due to their aristocratic features and the Primarchs "wings" in display. She shivers more than usual though at the feeling of lust being directed at her. It is like brushing her skin with oil, not pleasant at all.
"Next!" the flanging voice of the Blue Suns recruiter sounds out making Shepard step in past the lines of potential applicants who promptly makes their protest known. They however silenced the moment they see the Cain with a mini-nuke, strapped at the back of Shepard.
The room is simple with a red sofa at the side where three other Blue Suns grunts are playing some sort of card game while a terminal is at the middle of a room which a Batarian is skimming through. All four eyes look at them the moment they entered. A frown mar his features the moment they register to him. Ela Ashbel feels something akin to disgust come from him.
"Well aren't you three sweet? Unfortunately this is the Blue Suns recruitment station not the Strippers Club or the carnivals," he says with a mocking tone dismissive tone.
Ela Ashbel mentally sighs as she can sense the offense taken by her companions. Shepard looks incensed while Ariannelle sports a thunderous scowl. Not Ela Ashbel though, no. She is a Farseer, a being who can control her emotions with an iron will that is reserved only for the best of the Aeldari and-,"
"SMACK!"
Mental and thought process freezes like a statue with her eyes wide as dinner plates as Ela Ashbel can feel the stinging pain in her rump through her robes. Did somebody just smacked her ass without her say so?
"Hey boss, can't we just hire these hookers on the spot?" the voice of one of the Turian grunts at the room calls out. "The Asari dancers we called for are late and…,"
"SQUELCH!"
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" the Turian stumbles on the floor clutching the wrist minus a hand, blue blood seeping on the floor. Of course said appendage is at the floor cleanly separated from his body, courtesy of Ela Ashbel's weapon.
His buddies of course takes exception to that as they immediately leaves their card game and attempts to charge her. Key word there is attempt. The wychblade made of wraithbone stops them cleanly at their tracks as it is leveled towards them.
Shepard of course takes advantage of the situation fully as she faces the Batarian recruiter who had fallen at his butt with the bloody scene in front of him. "So, what are you saying again? Did we pass the test or what?"
A small mental poke from Ariannelle makes the Farseer turn towards the Primarch who is oozing smugness for some reason.
"What?"
"I didn't know that you are into cutting off random people's hands also Ela," chimes the half-Eldar inside her head making Ela Ashbel blink trying to wonder where she is getting into with this before groaning as she realizes that Ariannelle did also the same thing back at Aria's club with the guards.
"I reacted, he touched me," she huffs defensively making her sense some sort of victory from Ariannelle.
"Within good reason. It is after all a very nice butt even with those robes hiding it Ela,"
Ela blinks as her mind literally stops. She….did not expect those words. Neither does she expect the casual glance as if to reaffirm those words before her eyes meet hers with a victorious gleam before looking away. Is that attraction she just felt?
The half-Eldar does not like her does she?
….
Taenerya sits up abruptly at the battle simulation frantically clutching her chest. The pain felt so real and realistic that for a moment she wonder if she actually died. She had apparently fallen at the simulation when a Turian blasted her point blank with a rocket launcher straight at the chest while she's attempting to open the latches of a nearby NPC. Suffice it to say that it is a gory death.
Looking at the tally of deaths recorded at the simulation computer, the Eldar Banshee can't help but grit her teeth in frustration as she sees the score. She had only managed to down twenty enemies before she got exploded to bits. Normally it is a downright great score for someone who is having issues with the loss of her Warmask.
For Taenerya though, it is different. She is a banshee whose main purpose had been assigned to be a defense to the Farseer under her charge. Now said Farseer is wandering in enemy territory with only a Mon-Keigh, Eldar abomination as backup whom Taenerya barely trusts. Other than being her Farseer, Ela Ashbel is her personal friend and Taenerya would be damned if her friend gets damaged while she's having mental issues. Banshee or not, she would do her damnest to keep Ela Ashbel safe. That she cannot do if she is stuck here and unable to get a grip of herself. She is knowledgeable enough to know that if she even attempts to join the "mission" in her current state, she would be more of a liability than an asset. Like all self-respecting Eldar, pride is the one thing that Taenerya really values. To say that her mood is glum and black is the understatement of the century.
She's just ready however to turn the simulator again for her umpteenth retry when the doors of the cargo bay elevator open. Normally Taenerya would have happily ignored whoever it is. However seeing the white gown of their goddess enter, all thoughts of her bad mood evaporates as she gets on her knees bowing to the being who only smiles at her.
"I hear that you've been having trouble," she simply says looking at her and the simulator behind her.
"Just for now my lady. I'm working to get over it. I-," Taenerya takes a deep breathe unwilling to admit weakness in front of her goddess. Humility after all and admittance of weakness is not a common thing seen on those following the Path of Khaine.
"I will do my best to get back in the fight my lady," That is an out and out lie of course. While she might be able to merge her personality of Taenerya the Banshee to Taenerya the Eldar simply, it will take more than a fortnight of bloody simulations. Even then it would be a shadow of the emotionless Banshee, due to the influence of her personal individuality.
Isha simply cocks her head to the side with a small frown at her. "You don't have to lie to me young one. I know what bothers you and why it does so,"
Taenerya can feel her heart sinking faster than lead in the ocean at being caught in the act. She is still rattled by her explosive "death" at the simulation that she forgot the simple fact that "gods" cannot be lied to.
"My lady I am so sorry! I did not mean to-," her tirade is promptly cut off when Isha raised one hand.
"I accept your apology young one. However I am here for a reason, and it is you," the goddess says.
"Anything my lady,"
A small smile adorns Isha's face and from her back she whips out a plain white War-Mask made of purest wraithbone catching Taenerya dumb as it is presented to her. Wordlessly she takes the mask from the goddess holding the thing with reverence. She can feel power pulsing through the wraithbone. This, this is even more potent and powerful than her previous one. Plus it is sung by Isha herself.
"My lady, I, I-,"
"Shh," Isha silences whatever protest that is about to come out of her mouth. "Take this and be the warrior that you are meant to be. With this you can fight alongside your Farseer and protect her,"
"T-thank you my lady," Taenerya bows low tucking the gift on her navel. "This is a priceless gift,"
"Think of it as a little compensation for saving me from Nurgle," replies Isha with an amused smirk before frowning a little. "Although other than giving you this; I have need for your service,"
"Of course my lady," Taenerya replies standing up as Isha gestures for her to do so. Wordlessly she follows the goddess back to the elevator.
"We are alone in this galaxy young one. There are untold secrets, mysteries both good and bad hiding in this stars. Even I cannot see them all. As such I plan to make new Wraithbone armor for the three of you to aid you in this endeavor,"
"Even the half-breed…. I meant Ariannelle my lady?" Taenerya corrects herself quickly at the raised eyebrow of the goddess due to her words.
"Especially Ariannelle Taenerya, especially her. She will do great things in this galaxy, of that I can be sure. It will be either for good or ill. But it would be great,"
"Understood my lady," Taenerya might be skeptical of the goddess' words and she might not like the half-breed Eldar due to her ancestry as part Mon-Keigh, but as a Banshee; she can respect her power.
Not everyone of course can challenge Nurgle one on one even if it is seconds.