Here is Chapter 9 as promised, this'll be my fastest upload to date. Some of you maybe wondering why I never bothered to do a description of the main characters up to this point. This is because I wanted it to be natural, i.e from a different character's perspective rather than a disembodied narrator.

Song of the day: To Glory - Two Steps from Hell


Chapter 9 - Alliance of Necessity

Aristriel looked on from across the field at the fallen foe. It had been a long throw, a very long throw in fact, but the spirit of Kaela Mensha Khaine had evidently blessed her efforts and guided the dagger's journey. A small smile spread across her face behind her banshee mask; pleased at her display of marksmanship.

That mon'keigh is mine and mine alone. She promised herself.

For a while now, the aspect warrior had been shadowing the human's progress and in a masterstroke of both stealth and speed, she had managed to get ahead of him. The howling banshee's eagerness to face the mon'keigh again had risen to a fever pitch as she had watched the human's retreat from the hill.

Originally, Aristriel had hoped to ambush him further along, but the appearance of the greenskin menace had changed matters.

Approaching the oncoming orks had been relatively simple; her bone white armour, except for the red crest, blended in perfectly with the wintry countryside. Even so, the orks were entirely absorbed in their pursuit allowing Aristriel to get absurdly close.

The eldar crept up to a short and rickety stone wall that was within striking distance of the enemy. Sensing the time was right, she launched her attack - hitting them directly in their flank.

Aristriel unsheathed one of her daggers, flipping it in her palm so that the wickedly sharp blade rested in her gloved hand. For several heartbeats, she relished the perfect balance and supreme craftsmanship wrought into the wraith bone dagger.

Fly true, strike hard.

With her blade sanctified, she threw it and immediately followed the dagger, leaping over the wall to reveal herself. In response to the untimely death of their fallen comrade, the orks turned their attention to the newcomer who had to dared interrupt their foray. The greenskin's registered nought but surprise at the sudden appearance on their right flank, however, it didn't take them long to react.

"KNOIFE EARS! GET 'EM!" One of the larger brutes shouted, quickly followed by numerous other unintelligible cries.

Aristriel watched as the orks changed their direction and began to charge towards her, their weapons held at the ready while those with primitive projectile weapons began firing aimlessly. In response to the incoming fire, she twirled and danced amongst the shots falling around her.

The orks were badly strung out. The deep snow had worked in her favour, slowing their progress; they would be unlikely to regroup anytime soon. The banshee on the other hand was not affected by the cloying slush as her nimble feet padded comfortably over the icy surface.

From the greenskin's perspective, she was a blur moving across what would eventually become a blood-soaked field; her powerful and graceful legs kicking up a swirling veil of frost behind her.

The first ork she attacked, swung his hatchet at her like a lumberjack chopping at a tree.

All brawn and no finesse, pathetic.

Aristriel, like most eldar, was far more mobile than any sapling. She didn't even bother trying to block or parry the attack. Instead, the aspect warrior leapt over the axe's arc and brought her power sword straight down, into the monster's neck.

Her steel bit deep. Green flesh and muscle parted pitifully before her ancestral blade, triggering a thick jet of blood to spurt out of the ork's collar like a burst drainpipe. Within a few seconds, the groaning savage was on his knees while his head hung from his neck by a mere strand of sinew. His last glimpses of life were that of an inverted landscape that gradually turned red.

Aristriel landed elegantly, and without breaking stride, carried onto her next opponent. The fast-approaching greenskin wielded an axe and a primitive pistol. She got within a dozen paces of him when he tossed his axe, childishly laughing as he did so.

Aristriel responded by deflecting the aerial cleaver, sending the foul weapon wide, where it buried itself upright in the ice. Seeing this, the ork brought up his firearm and fired with wild abandon. The howling banshee acted instinctively and flung herself from side to side, dodging all of his poorly aimed shots.

Once she judged the distance close enough, she rolled forwards and ended up underneath the ork's pistol. Righting herself instantly and with a quick flick of her blade; she sliced off the ork's arm.

The green savage bellowed in pain as he tried to clout the banshee with his one good limb all the while his severed arm spewed his lifeblood all over the ground. Aristriel dropped low and evaded the clumsy attack, as she spun around with her sword extended.

Swirling around like a deadly whirlpool, her outside foot caught the top layer of snow. Ice crystals spouted skyward, glittering in the sunlight while her sword sliced through the greenskin's stomach. The silver blade cut the creature all the way to its spine, spraying crimson fluid in a wide arc.

Not realising that he had been cut in half, the greenskin flung another hopeless jab at the banshee. The eldar responded comically by cutting his remaining arm off at the elbow. Defeated, the ork slumped dead to the floor, his upper body separating from his lower half as he collapsed.

Aristriel swiftly turned her attention to the remaining orks who had now grouped up into a somewhat cohesive force. Although, after witnessing the impressive speed in which she had dispatched their comrades, they stopped just short.

This left around a hundred paces of separation between them and her. Taking advantage of this lull, she analysed the opposing force; eight of the dumb brutes faced her with a mixture of crude melee and ranged weapons.

The largest of the barbarians stamped forwards, raising his axe in her direction. "WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHGGGG!" The greenskin boomed, quickly joined by his vulgar brethren as they too took up the war cry.

Allowing their violent zealotry to invigorate them, they stampeded towards her; their eyes were grinning with the joys of battle. Aristriel quickly decided that the priority should be those who carried ranged weapons. As if they had heard her very thoughts, the thunderous crack of firearms soon filled the air as the greenskins hefting their primitive machine guns unleashed their firepower.

Puffs of snow were kicked up by the impact of orkish rounds all around her, many getting uncomfortably close. A lucky hit from an ork SMG struck her left pauldron, cracking one of the precious gems that adorned her armour.

This insult could not be left unanswered. Fury blossomed within her, begging to be released from the cage in which her passions dwelt. Aristriel, not wishing to be dragged down by her lesser impulses, refused to become reckless at this crucial moment. Cold discipline supported by her emotion-nullifying war mask stood strong and instantly snuffed out this internal rebellion.

It became obvious at this distance that even the orks would find it difficult to miss her. The banshee, darting this way and that, understood that this hail of lead could not continue if she was to prove triumphant. Regardless of the missiles, Aristriel rushed towards the enemy, waiting for the right moment to let loose the infamous banshee scream.

They will only remain stunned for a few moments; I must not waste this chance. Asuryan guide me!

Her heart hammered inside her chest as time started to slow, the adrenaline pumping inexorably through her veins. As soon as eldar saw the individual drops of spittle flying from the closest greenskin's mouth, she deemed the time right.

A loud, high-pitched scream escaped from her respirator, and reverberated across the land. The audio amplifiers in her mask converted the ear-splitting screech into a weapon in its own right. The sonic explosion smacked squarely into the assailing greenskins whose charge disintegrated under its effect.

The deafening shriek caused many of the attacking greenskins to collapse to the floor. Those supine orks reacted in much the same way: clutching their meaty paws around their ears in an effort to drown out the noise. Those that miraculously remained standing were left paralysed, their brains rendered temporarily inoperable. With her opponents either on their knees or stunned into inactivity, Aristriel wasted no time in quickly dispatching the nearest ork warriors.

Her sword became a blur as she spun it in her hand; slicing, stabbing and impaling any who might stand before her. Not before long, the blade glowed a frightening red hue from the accumulated blood slathering its fine surface. It was only after several vital moments that the greenskins started to recover, but the banshee scream had already done its work; only five of the beasts were left to face her.

A recently recuperated ork tried to bring his oversized pistol to bear on the unstoppable aspect warrior. Within half a heartbeat, Aristriel had already released her remaining dagger from its sheath and let fly. The knife whirled through the air, straight into the green beast's cranium with a sickening crunch.

Four left.

There would be no time to celebrate, however, as the air around her suddenly stilled. The eldar's eyebrows rose in realisation and she instantly side-stepped as an axe swept through the spot she had only recently vacated.

Aristriel turned to meet her new attacker and launched a powerful kick towards the greenskin's sternum before he could swing his axe again. The ork batted her aside with his metal fist, flinging her into the snow like a ragdoll.

Nonetheless, Aristriel - agile as a feline, twisted mid-air and landed splayed out: perfectly balanced on her legs and left hand while her sword arm was raised high. Her flawless touchdown infuriated the ork which only fuelled his reckless advance towards her. Sensing another attack from behind, she rolled to her right as an axe buried itself in the ground.

Whipping round with her blade, she carved through the meat of the interfering attacker's leg. The greenskin cried out in bestial rage as he toppled over backwards. The original assailant was almost upon her again. Aristriel in an incredible feat, sprang onto the falling greenskin's chest and used him as a makeshift springboard and launched herself towards the other hulking monster.

Once again the ork tried to smash her aside, this time with his axe. Unfortunately for him, he had completely miscalculated the speed with which the banshee sailed through the air. The ork shuddered from shock as the eldar's sword impaled him. The glowing blade cut through epidermis, muscles, and sinew before finally puncturing his fungal heart and exiting out his back.

Two left.

Movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention; an ork gunner groggily rose to his feet and now levelled his weapon towards her. Thinking quickly, she pivoted the skewered greenskin towards the gunner to act as an impromptu shield. With just seconds to spare, the barely-living ork writhed underneath the dense enfilade of fire as great gouges of fungoid flesh were torn out of him.

After a few tense moments of intense gunfire, the hail of shot was abruptly silenced with a loud click.

You're all out. Recognising the opportunity, Aristriel summarily ripped her power sword upwards through the dead beast's chest in a gruesome spectacle. The bullet-ridden ork slumped to the icy floor, allowing the eldar to deal with the now-panicking greenskin.

The ork gunner fumbled around, hastily trying to replace the empty cartridge with a fresh one, but it was far too late. As he looked up, he saw the terrifying image of a howling banshee through his cumbersome goggles. It would be the last thing he would see. In a single flash of steel, the crown of his head was loped off and sent careening through the air in a fireworks display of brain matter and bloodshed.

"OI KNOIFE EARS!" The last remaining greenskin shouted. Aristriel huffing great clouds of vapour turned on her heels to face the green savage.

"LUKS LOIKE ITZ JUST YOU AN' ME!" The scarred ork rumbled, jets of steam blowing out of his flaring nose and mouth. Carried in both of his chubby hands were two great slabs of vicious metal, each one crudely machined into the shape of an axe. The banshee took a moment to assess his appearance; he was by far the largest of the mon'keigh's hunters.

His face was a myriad of old scars, one of which ran diagonally across his face and ended in an eye patch. Presumably, whatever had given him that injury must have taken his eye also. Judging by his size and battle injuries, it was obvious he was well-experienced in the matters of combat. She would have to be cautious and pay close attention to his movements.

It seemed he took a moment to do the same to her, barring his massive canines and snarling unintelligible insults in his piggish tongue. Aristriel advanced slowly, her sword held in a low guard. The greenskin had no interest in reciprocating this motion; he flexed his hardened muscles while spinning his axes in an impressive display.

"QUIT PRANSIN' ABOUT KNOIFE EARS AND FOIGHT!" He growled, preparing his opening move.

The ork struck in a quick flurry of overwhelming strikes, catching the eldar completely by surprise. She only just managed to deflect the attacks; sparks flew as the orkish axe smashed against the aeldari blade, sending Aristriel reeling backwards.

Her poor limb felt like it had been rent asunder at the sheer weight of the blows as pain lanced along the extent of her sword arm and shoulder. The ork pressed the advantage, giving the banshee no time to recover her balance as he hammered her again and again. Aristriel, now on the backfoot, could only respond by blocking the unceasing onslaught.

The crushing blows continued to rain down from either side. The banshee was forced to keep switching her guard to maintain her defence. The current state of play meant that evasion or retreat was not an option.

Every barred attack pulverised her upper body, chipping away at her strength and resolve. The aspect warrior's arms groaned in pain as the intensity of the ork's attacks showed no sign of letting up. In this battle of attrition, the greenskin's use of brute force would inevitably lead to her demise.

In between the clash of steel, Aristriel noticed the greenskin's impatience and growing arrogance as he sought to overpower her with his superior strength.

"One must remind themselves that over confidence is a slow and insidious killer." The memory of her old sword master chimed. Using the ork's pride to her advantage, she feigned defeat by dropping to one knee.

Seeing this sure sign of victory, the barbarian grouped his two axes together, combining them into one large block of honed metal. Like a spring released from tension, the devastating blow came hurtling towards the bowed banshee.

"I GOT YA KNOW KNOI-" The satisfaction on the greenskin's gristly visage vanished in a split-second when his combined weapon's struck nought but air.

The supposedly beaten eldar had propelled herself high towards the heavens in the blink of an eye, just as the enemy's weapons struck the spot she had recently occupied. Aristriel soared backwards in a glorious backflip that would have put the finest of the Imperium's gymnasts to shame. Landing smartly in a crouch amongst the fallen savages, she looked back towards her bewildered and livid opponent.

"OI, DATS CHEATIN'! YA KNOIFE EARED GIT!" He called after her, his expression screwed up into one of deep loathing and... oddly enough, betrayal. Ignoring the greenskin's woes, she sighted her previously thrown dagger standing proudly of an ork's forehead.

The one-eyed ork, deprived of his prize and furious at the eldar's deception, tramped towards her all the while yelling insults at her dishonourable conduct in the way only an ork can manage. Without a second thought, Aristriel wrenched the blade free from its bloody sheath with a horrible squelching noise.

Aristriel stood proud; power sword held in her right hand while the dagger, held in the reverse fashion, was in the other.

Time to finish this. Without further ado, she sprinted towards the hulking barbarian, commencing her assault.

As the power sword flew towards the ork's neck, it took all his skill to deflect the eldar's blade. Still, before he could even muster a proper counterattack, the banshee struck again and then again.

Aristriel became a whirlwind of sharpened shimmering steel that thrust and swung at him, far too fast to follow for any simple creature. This time it was the ork's turn to be put on the backfoot. Beads of sweat started to sprout from his brow from the intense pressure of her assault.

Doubt began to grow inside him, forcing the cogs in his simple mycological brain to turn as they adapted to the situation. It did not take long for a brilliantly orky idea to surface. The greenskin, much to the banshee's amazement, opened himself up as he swung his left axe towards the banshee's right shoulder.

Aristriel in a hasty response, quickly converted her swing to counter her opponent's blow. The eldar's blade flickered as it bisected the ork's axe - separating the haft from the head.

The savage's face fell at the destruction of one of his favoured weapons. However, there was no time to even react; Aristriel lunged her blade directly into the greenskin's stomach.

The ork sneered in pain. "DAT DA BEST YA GOT!" He cried through clenched teeth, delivering an almighty headbutt that dropped the eldar to the ground. Aristriel's vision blacked out momentarily causing her hand to release the power sword which remained impaled in the ork's belly.

The greenskin ignored the aeldari blade speared through his gut and started trying to crush the banshee with his giant foot. The underside of the ork's boot filled the view through her visor as it rushed down towards her. Only at the last minute, when her mind caught up with her predicament, did she roll away, leaving the greenskin's right foot to harmlessly slam into the cold white powder.

The one-eyed greenskin, disappointed at the unsquashed eldar, stomped his boot towards her again. This time though, in retaliation she stabbed her dagger straight into the ball of his foot. The ork's foot reversed its rapid descent instantaneously as its owner roared in agony towards the sky, balancing on one leg.

Taking the initiative, Aristriel slashed the hamstrings of the greenskin's only supporting leg with her wraith bone blade. Rivers of blood ran from the brute's ankle, pooling around the sole of his boot. With the muscles in his leg severed, the once proud barbarian warrior collapsed to the ground with a frightful clap of meat hitting frozen ice.

Shifting out of harm's way, Aristriel regained her footing. One-eye had managed to right himself but was left on one knee, unable to rise any further. Even so, that didn't mean he would go quietly to whatever hell awaited him.

He swung clumsily at her with his remaining axe, hoping to catch her off guard. Aristriel easily evaded the swing and grabbed hold of her power sword - still jutting out of the ork's abdomen. The horrible sucking noise of flesh lingered in the air as the howling banshee extracted the blade from her crippled opponent.

The close proximity to the eldar inspired the savage's last bitter attempt to gain victory. His head lunged forward in an effort to chomp at her sword arm, but the tightening of tendons in his neck telegraphed the move, and Aristriel pre-emptively avoided him.

Realising his failure, the ork's eyes grew wide in horror; the possibility of defeat drip fed its way into his tiny mind. The eldar proved him right as she struck with her blood-flecked power sword. The blade cut effortlessly through his raised axe and into his stocky neck, beheading him instantly in a shower of gore.

The banshee along with the surrounding area was splashed by the crimson fluid; rivulets of blood flowed down her body, turning her already unnerving appearance into something truly terrifying.

The eldar, nevertheless, took no notice of the grime that covered her armour as she stood there for a few moments, basking in the brilliant sunshine which punctuated her triumph. Her heart still pulsated incessantly while vapour poured out of her respirator, like the exhaust of one of the mon'keigh's vehicles.

Scanning her eyes over the battlefield, Aristriel noticed that one of the greenskins was trying to crawl away, leaving a red trail through the snow in the process. She wandered over to him before nonchalantly planting the blade through the greenskin's spine; before twisting it for good measure. The ork's back arched while his outstretched arm, shuddered and finally went limp.

With all of the barbarians taken care of, well the green ones anyway, Aristriel turned back to her primary task. It was not hard to spot the human, he was desperately trying to extricate himself from the greenskin corpse that trapped him in a prison of flesh and ice. Not wanting to alert him, she noiselessly made her way over to the caught mon'keigh, enjoying the irony of their reversed fortunes.

As she got closer, Aristriel saw that only his head and right arm had escaped from the ork's death throes. The guardsman was frantically reaching for his short sword but to little success as his stretched-out fingers barely tickled the blade's pommel.

Another small smile graced her masked face at the culmination of this satisfying moment. The recovery of the Omnicron was assured along with the death of this most troublesome human. Aristriel lowered her power sword so that it sat uncomfortably close to the mon'keigh's neck. The human went still instantly at the light buzzing sound of her blade.

Savouring the moment, she held the blade there whilst enjoying the human's discomfort. However, of the emotions that radiated off him, she was surprised, and more than a little irritated, to find that fear was not chief among them.

Luckily for the guardsman a thin wisp of steam caught the eyes of the banshee. Inclining her head to get a better look at this mystery, Aristriel caught sight of something far more interesting than the trapped mon'keigh at her feet. Scarcely a few yards away was a melted crater of snow with the Omnicron proudly at its centre.

Her gaze loitered on the artefact which the banshee quickly came to regret. Aristriel started to feel nauseous as twisted images and incomprehensible words filled her mind. The eldar screwed her eyes shut, in an attempt to block out the sick and corrupted thoughts.

Remembering the wraith glass box that Farseer Ullaryne had given her, Aristriel's hand shot down to her side pouch where the fragile container was kept. Her hand probed the inside of the pocket but found nothing. At first, she thought that she had been mistaken and soon began checking the other pouches around her belt, but they too yielded nothing.

Refusing to accept what was blatantly becoming clear, she checked the original pouch once more. This time her fingertips brushed against something. Lifting the item to her helmeted face, Aristriel was confronted by a single broken shard of wraith glass.

With this discovery, her world fell apart. After how far she had travelled and all that she had done, only to be lead to failure; Aristriel couldn't stop herself from falling into despair. That box had been crucial to her mission, it would be impossible to go on without it. The banshee bowed her head while pressing her hands to her masked face as horror and panic consumed her.

I-I have failed Alaitoc. I have f-failed again…Asuryan…Isha…Lileath please forgive me, I beg of you. The banshee mask was a welcome relief, hiding her distress from the human as well as quashing most of her emotions.

Even so, a few tears successfully escaped her eyes as they rolled down her pale face. The darker parts of her mind, as if drawn to her distress like carrion crows to a dead carcass; made themselves known as they delighted in the fiasco that beset her and refused to be silent.

Self-destructive thoughts lashed out at her, pouring salt into her fresh emotional wounds.

You could not protect your family and now you forsake the task given to you because of your stupidity and mindlessness. A task given to you by the upper echelons of Alaitoc no less. Has there ever been an aeldari as wretched as the likes of you? You deserve to be alone!

Just when she thought she might crack, a well of courage surged within her.

No! I have not failed yet! Where there is the will to carry on, there is a way to reach journey's end.

At this, her mind became a tornado of self-castigation and random ideas. There was still hope, there was always hope.

I cannot pick up the artefact, Farseer Ullaryne made that perfectly clear. Maybe I could leave it here, contact Alaitoc and recover it at a later date? But how would I be able to find it again? And what if some other mon'keigh find it?

After a brief analysis, that idea was disregarded.

I could always stay near it and wait for eldar forces? But how would they find me though, I could be on the far side of the galaxy for all they now, it would be like trying to find a diamond in a planet sized desert.

Discounting this idea, her mind absently shifted to the ensnared guardsman at her feet.

What about the human? He can carry it; I have seen him holding it. It makes no sense though, he does not have the psychic gift, he should not be able to do so. Unless of course… he is an agent of the great enemy?

Examining this proposal, her head slowly turned until it fixed on the prone guardsman.

The mon'keigh, once again noticing the banshee's attention squarely fixed on him, redoubled his efforts to reach his short sword. This hope was denied to him as the blade was carefully nudged out of reach by Aristriel's finely adorned boot.

She knelt down in front of him, and using both her hands, proceeded to tear off his head covering without mercy. As expected, the soldier fought her every step of the way; he thrashed his head and constantly attempted to wriggle out her grasp. There would be no escape as she finally found his chin strap. With a resounding click, his helmet and visor came away in her hands and were blatantly tossed aside.

His resistance seemed to crumble from this loss. Removing his rebreather was far simpler, even when he attempted to bite her gloved hand that strayed too close to his mouth.

What is it with mon'keigh and biting? She asked herself before giving the human a hard slap that sent his head ringing like a bell. Knocked into brief submission, Aristriel clutched the human's jaw and raised his head so that she could look directly into his eyes.

A young human face stared defiantly back at her; his short dark blond hair, matted with sweat and melted snow, stood in strong contrast to his round pale face. Aristriel ignored his expression as her eyes swept over his face, drinking in the details, and committing them to memory. A grecian nose complimented by high cheek bones and a strong jawline made him altogether not unpleasant to look at, surmised the eldar warrior.

Still, she could not help but notice the weathered lines outlining his otherwise youthful face. Clearly, this erosion of innocence was the result of ceaseless toil that accompanied warfare. This effect was only reinforced by the stubble that sprouted across his cheeks and lower face.

To have one's youth and vigour slowly leached away must be a terrible thing. She queried absently.

Of all the mon'keigh's features though, it was his eyes that were truly striking. Two piercing dark grey orbs, that sat neatly beneath his brow, were entirely transfixed onto the red lenses of her banshee mask. Aristriel had not expected the human's gaze to be as powerful as it was. It almost felt like his gaze penetrated right to her heart and the blazing star that was her very soul. She stopped herself from shuddering and concentrated on the task at hand.

There was certainly an intelligence behind those eyes, but she could see no hint of corruption. Searching the emotions that exuded from him, she noted that the tell-tale signature of the great enemy was absent in its entirety.

My my, you truly are a perplexing mon'keigh. Of course, this raised other questions about his supposed innate resistance to the artefact, but Aristriel pushed them aside... for now at least. The dark pools of his eyes also revealed the not-so subtle weariness born out from the pain of loss; he had seen too much.

Satisfied with the human's purity, the aspect warrior released the human's head, allowing him to slump to the cold ground which earned her an insult in low gothic.

I know what must be done, I will ally myself to him, gain his trust and lead him into the hands of my aeldari comrades. Principally, he shall be the beast of burden that will have the honour of carrying the black stone for me. Once the artefact is safely in the care of Alaitoc, he will have outlived his usefulness and I shall dispose of him in kind.

With her plan laid out in her mind, she set to work levering the dead ork off of the crushed guardsman whilst ignoring his barbaric insults. Eventually, understanding what Aristriel intended, the mon'keigh added his own strength as he pushed upwards.

With their combined efforts, slowly but surely the greenskin's corpse was moved off of him. Scrambling for freedom, the guardsman bolted for his short sword. Once reunited with his blade, he spun around to face Aristriel who had not moved from her position.

He aimed the point of the short sword towards her chest, in a clear defensive stance while he edged his way towards the fallen artefact - never once taking his eyes off her. Aware that she needed to get him on side, Aristriel retrieved her thrown dagger from the dead greenskin and sheathed all of her blades.

The eldar hoped that he would be able to recognise that she had no intentions to fight anymore. The mon'keigh however, was preoccupied with retrieving his lost trinket. As soon as he reached the melted crater of snow, he darted down and plucked the Omnicron off the ground before pocketing it in one of his webbing pouches.

Satisfied that the artefact was safe, he focused on her once more. They were only a few paces apart and yet the human maintained his defensive stance, sword tip still pointing towards her in spite of her unarmed state. Aristriel began to wonder if this was a bad idea but was relieved when she saw him waver as uncertainty spread across his face.

Remembering that humans are illogical beings, quick to fright and easily roused to violence, she waited patiently whilst remaining utterly motionless. Sure enough, her patience paid off as the mon'keigh relented. Gradually, he lowered his blade before finally sheathing it inside his scabbard. Neither of them moved as they both exhaled thin puffs of vapour.

Aristriel moved first, offering her hand - a clear intention for a handshake. Another wave of uncertainty crossed the human's face as he cast his eyes around the fallen greenskins.

He knows what I'm capable of, I imagine he's having qualms with that abysmal dogma so many of his kind adhere to. Shivering in the cold, the human's resolve caved-in as all his religious misgivings were briefly pushed aside.

He reached forward to shake her hand; however, at the last second, he retrieved it again. Aristriel bristled at this, her face creasing into a frown while her muscles tensed at the possibility of violence. Her hand twitched, if this guardsman made one wrong step out of place; he would be met with her power sword.

Nevertheless, her concerns proved to be misplaced. The human on retracting his hand, spat into his open palm, and reached forwards to clasp a hand with hers. The eldar, confused by this weird custom, failed to withdraw her limb in time.

Their hands came together; although, Aristriel was left glowering behind her mask in disgust at this childish action but shook the mon'keigh's hand all the same. Secure in the knowledge that they had left hostilities behind them with the signing of their unwritten pact, they prepared to move off.

Forced together by dire circumstances, they had formed an improvised alliance. An alliance that would very soon be put to the ultimate test.


Review Responses:

Malgrath – Well your sense of timing is truly impeccable.

Look2019 – Glad you liked it.

Shadowfire12 – Well I'm happy that you enjoyed the chapter, but I think if you're looking for a lots of gratuitous sex scenes then you're probably going to be disappointed. Who's to say that the ending won't be sad? This is 40k after all.

Ateht – Nope, definitely not dead. I'd like to think that if I was forced to abandon the project that I'd have the common decency to create an announcement. The Emperor certainly does work in mysterious ways.