Overlord Kallathsek was beyond grateful to be home, although it did mean the clock was now ticking.
'Home' for him was Bardic, the Crownworld of the Charnovokh. It was an unpleasantly cold world, circling a nearly dead star. All organic life had been wiped from it long ago, what little there had been… from what Kallathsek could recall, it had just been mold anyway. What was left was a beautiful Necron world. After the awakening from the Great Sleep, the necrons of Charnovokh had returned to the surface of the world and built a lovely paradise, by their standards. The great ziggurats with their green lights, the navigational aides and many flying craft, ah, this was home. The only unfortunate thing about it was the temperature, necrons preferred heat, but they could tolerate the cold well enough. What they tended to strongly dislike was humidity and Bardic had none of that, it had not a single drop of water.
Kallathsek and his fellow Overlords had been supplied with one of those wretched little scout ships. It made sense, as they were not expected to return it and the three of them could easily man it. All of their Overlord enhancements had been returned to them, to Kallathsek's relief, and they had been sent home with Imotekh's messages.
There was some confusion when they arrived at Bardic, though.
Who are you and what the hell is that ship? Kallathsek almost laughed. He'd felt the same way when he'd first seen them too. After using it, though, he could see the charm. It was highly practical if you only wanted to get where you were going quickly.
"Overlord Kallathsek of Coreworld Ifrayd. I bear word from Imotekh the Stormlord, I must see the Phaeron immediately. It is a declaration of war," Kallathsek said and there was a frozen moment before the screen flashed on. The Overlord on the screen was well known to him, the Phaeron's brother, Thalokh.
"Kallathsek? We thought Coreworld Ifrayd was destroyed by the drukhari. What has occurred?" Kallathsek quickly gave him a rundown of events. While it would cost Imotekh a bit of honor, it hardly mattered now, when he was making his declaration of honorable war. Thalokh's eyes glowed brightly. "You were held prisoner by the Uhnashret?!" Yes, he knew, that did sound absurd.
"Can I please tell all of this to the Phaeron? Our two years has already started." It was fairly important to pass on the message. Thalokh muttered a soft curse before directing him on where to set down the ship. The nature of it came in handy now, as it was easy to place on the planet.
They were immediately brought to the Phaeron. Phaeron Theokh was majestic in his coat of full midnight blue, swathed in a cloak of gleaming shadows. His headdress was elaborate, with dangling plaques that spoke of the worlds they had lost, and he wore a loin covering of midnight blue plaques, hinged with gold. His flux glowed blue, an unusual customization that made him eerie to other necrons. Kallathsek bowed, deeply, as did the other Overlords with him.
"Kallathsek. What word do you bring of Imotekh?" Theokh asked and instead of replying with his own words, Kallathsek took out the canned message he had been given and released it. A perfect vision of the Stormlord, in his full regalia, appeared before them.
Phaeron Theokh, I shall be blunt. I name the Silent King my enemy, Imotekh rumbled and Theokh just stared at the projection. Kallathsek had no idea what the Phaeron was thinking. I have remembered the past and his transgressions against us cannot be forgiven. Will you join me, or will you stand against me? I give you two solar years to decide. That was a precise length of time measured out by the old year of the Bitter Star, so it was invariable. Kallathsek knew the precise date this countdown would expire. Stand against me and you shall be annihilated. Join me, and you shall be rewarded. I leave it to Kallathsek to explain what the reward will be, and why there is no forgiveness. Then the message cut off. Theokh stared at the empty air for a moment before looking towards him.
"Explain," he said and Kallathsek felt his anger like the weight of a dead star. He couldn't swallow nervously anymore and rubbing his hands together was out of the question, so he just straightened his shoulders a little.
"The reward Imotekh is offering is souls," he said and Theokh's anger was modulated with a bit of confusion. Kallathsek knew him well and could spot it in the subtle tilt of his chin, the flicker of his eyes. "Harvested from human clones and implanted by both human and necron psykers. They… change these bodies. Make them feel…" Kallathsek struggled with a word for it.
"Alive," one of the others supplied and Theokh's gaze snapped to him. Overlord Arikhos met his gaze evenly. "They make you feel alive. And they prevent any infection from the Flayer virus."
"…" Theokh considered that, tapping his fingers against his great weapon. It was a terrible and powerful scythe, passed down to him from his father. "If these souls can repair Szarekh's great mistake, why is there no forgiveness for him?" Theokh asked after a moment and Kallathsek tensed, rage flashing through his mind.
"Where is your wife, Theokh?" Kallathsek asked hoarsely and Theokh actually flashed glyphs of confusion. "You were married to my sister. Where is she? Why isn't she by your side? Where are my daughters?" Kallathsek wanted to scream at the pain of it. "Where are my grandchildren? The youngest was three. WHERE IS HE?!" Kallathsek knew he shouldn't raise his voice to Theokh, he knew, but the pain had to come out. Then Arikhos touched his shoulder, recalling him and he fell silent.
"My sisters are also gone. My own children, they were so small, where are they…" Overlord Emerru sounded like he was in despair. Theokh stared at him for a moment before glancing at Arikhos.
"I was a single man, an orphan, so I don't feel the pain they do. But Phaeron… the Uhnashret Dynasty has resouled several commoners, former Warriors. They told me the horrible story of one of their own, an Immortal who tried to flee from the forges. The C'Tan ate his children," Arikhos said and Kallathsek tensed as rage flowed through him again. "They say all the children were sacrificed to the C'Tan." There was a deathly silence and Theokh's anger seemed to be ebbing, replaced by something more thoughtful.
"And you believe this to be true?" he asked and Kallathsek nodded. "…" Theokh made a low, grating sound before flashing glyphs of displeasure and frustration. "I know we all hated the little viper, but I wish Oramoton were here. He would know what to do." It had been Theokh's father, not Theokh himself, who had favored Oramoton so greatly. The other two Overlords glanced at him and Kallathsek glared back at them. "Do you know of Oramoton's fate?" Theokh had noticed that little interplay and was looking at him now, his eyes flaring.
"He was worthless, suffering severe engrammatic damage. I exiled him," Kallathsek said evenly. He had the authority to do that, Theokh had given him that power.
That didn't stop Theokh from moving with insane speed and Kallathsek would have gagged, if he were still flesh, as his throat was seized and he was dragged into the air by his furious Phaeron.
"You idiot," Theokh's voice was a dark bell and Kallathsek wondered if he was going to die. Honestly, it would almost be worth it after finally getting the satisfaction of grinding Oramoton's face in the dirt. "We have no Chronomancers you worthless cretin!" That wasn't entirely true. They had some Chronomancers but they were all very much lesser lights.
"He… really wasn't… any good…" Kallathsek managed to say, his neck servos struggling to support his weight. It was possible to behead a necron this way, if you were particularly strong. Theokh was more than strong enough. Kallathsek still wasn't particularly afraid, although he wasn't sure why. It was also more than in Theokh's power to forcefully deactivate his recall functions, but Kallathsek found he didn't care.
"We have Psychomancers for that you fool!" For a moment Kallathsek really thought Theokh was going to do it but then instead he threw him violently aside. Kallathsek hit the wall with stunning force and damage symbols rose through his buffer before he dismissed them, quietly acknowledging the damage. "All of you, get out of my sight!" Emerru and Arikhos went to his side and helped him up, to get him away from the raging Phaeron. They quickly escaped and when they were… safer… Arikhos murmured.
"We didn't get to tell him about the defectors." Yes, that was unfortunate but Kallathsek didn't think they should go back. Emerru grunted.
"We'll tell him later. Are you going to self-repair or do you need the Technomancers?" Kallathsek carefully shook his head.
"I will be fine." His injuries really weren't that severe, a few hours and he would be fine. The worst damage was definitely his neck, it had been close to detaching from his skull, but it would be fine.
"Good. You might be a crusty old bastard, but we'll need everyone soon." Wasn't that the truth. Although, crusty old bastard? Was that really how they saw him? Kallathsek tried to remember his age before biotransference and came to the dismaying conclusion that they were close to right. He hadn't been Trazyn the Infinite's age, not by a long shot, but he hadn't been remotely youthful either.
Kallathsek found a good, quietly corner to just lean against as his body repaired. Arikhos and Emerru stayed with him but before long, they were being approached by other Overlords who wanted to know what was happening. With no instructions to the contrary, they shared the news.
Soon, everyone in Charnovokh would know they were on the precipice of war with the Sautekh.
Morfynn Iyanna was a very old aeldari female.
She was not as old as Eldrad, of course, but few were. She was old enough that she had seen Iyanden in their glorious prime, standing beside Biel Tan. She'd seen them start to fall out with Biel Tan, who were far too ruthless with those who had taken planets the aeldari could not even use. They had believed it was one thing to purge the xenos from Maiden Worlds, the paradises created just for them, but many of the planets had not been that… just places aeldari had used to live, before the cataclysm. Many of the inhabitants had nothing to do with the end of the eldar living there, why purge them out?
Morfynn brushed away the thought like an errant fly. That old discussion had ended when Iyanden had been broken by the Tyranids. Biel Tan had moved on without them, leaving their broken husk behind. She did not hold it against them, precisely, but also gave them no credit. It was a harsh thing to do but the universe was harsh. They had at least been saved from complete destruction and Biel Tan had helped with that.
Now, though, things were changing. Morfynn would never, in her wildest nightmares, have thought of surrendering to their ancient enemy. Yet somehow Eldrad had considered the idea and when Morfynn looked into those futures, something shockingly positive had unfolded. Morfynn was not the strongest of Farseers but she could see far enough.
Looking out a window into the vast emptiness of space, Morfynn watched the great serpent of the humans. Apparently this was a purely human technology, dating back to what they called the Dark Age of Technology. Designed to gentle stars, it could also do many other things, including moving planets. Right now it was moving in a slow and languid dance around Craftworld Iyanden, gently speeding their journey through the stars.
Morfynn was going to a meeting with Eldrad, Yvraine and the others chosen to go into the Gardens of Slaanesh, so she hurried her steps. She would not personally be going, her skills were all wrong, but as one of the eldest Farseers of Iyanden she needed to be there for the discussion and planning.
When she arrived, Morfynn looked over the others chosen to go the Gardens. Yvraine and her bodyguard, primarily, with the very imposing Harlequin. Morfynn could easily sense that he was quite powerful. A few others, one of them a strong female in red armor that Morfynn recognized as a youngster of the Ulthwe. So sad, to send someone so young into such danger, but the prognostications must have been favorable. Also two that she recognized as the other soul healers, one a beautiful blonde female from the Exodite worlds and the other her nephew. Morfynn feared for him, but there was nothing to be done except hope he would survive.
Also in the room was Overlord Duleth. Morfynn looked at the necrons with frank curiosity… Manric was a tall and powerful Overlord, with a three-pointed headdress and plaques by his face, which mimicked earrings. By his side was what seemed to an ordinary Necron Warrior, but wearing a scarf of woven metal. The body language was quite expressive, as the Warrior hovered beside Manric in a way that indicated to Morfynn that it was a touch afraid to be here and looking to him for comfort. It was rude, but she couldn't resist… extending a bit of telepathy, Morfynn tried to hear something. She couldn't catch much without extreme effort, thanks to the blackstone all necrons used, but she briefly heard the voice of a young female worrying about being around her ancestral enemies.
(despite her voice now being different, Sehenna's internal monologue was in her old, organic voice)
(that was actually true of all necrons, except for the ones who had suffered severe engrammatic damage and forgotten what they had once sounded like)
As Morfynn watched, Manric gently patted his companion on the shoulder. She calmed perceptibly, settling against him. Necrons had no expressions but Morfynn was fascinated by the body language. What were the two of them to each other? Father and daughter, or mentor and protégé?
Then Eldrad entered the room and the meeting began.
"Greetings. Aside from our hosts of Iyanden, you are all here because you have been prognosticated to hold the best chance of surviving the Gardens of Slaanesh," Eldrad said gravely and there were nods all around and a grim silence. They all knew that anyone who fell in those Gardens would likely be lost, unless the soulstone could be recovered. And that could not be counted on at all, particularly when they were close to the sword and the hordes of Slaanesh descended. "Manric, you have made the ghost wood?"
"The bags are ready. The wood is as well padded as I could manage, but there will be significant breakage. However, I believe that within the Immaterium I should be able to make more of it with ease," Manric said with assurance and Eldrad nodded.
"Yes, I have seen that, you spinning the wood from your fingertips. That will be your major part in this." Ah, that did make sense, particularly when this 'ghost wood' was so fragile. Briefly, Morfynn wished this Manric had been born among the aeldari. He would have been a Spirit Seer of the highest caliber, with his rare gift. That, along with healer of mind and soul, were the normal paths for those with such gifts. It made her wonder if the Imperium actually did spawn others like Manric, but then killed them with its' cruelty. An empathic telepath might find too many things about Imperial life unbearable.
"Assuming we get the final crone sword, what happens next?" The very young warrior of Ulthwe said and Manric looked at her. Morfynn got the oddest impression of amusement.
(it was the same female eldar Manric had met before his meeting with Guilliman, the one who had wanted his spear)
"The prophecies of the Laughing God say we will have to go on a great quest, searching through the entire galaxy and spanning many years, to find the Cauldron of Ice and Fire," the Harlequin said and Morfynn sighed internally. Another long quest… but then the necron with Manric made an odd buzzing sound.
"Uh… uh…" Everyone stared at her and she seemed to wilt. Manric gently put a hand on her back.
"What is it, Sehenna?" Sehenna… a surprisingly pretty name.
"I… I mean no disrespect. But you said Laughing God… is he a trickster?" Morfynn was puzzled. What did that matter to a necron? "I mean would he um… would he… lie to you?" What? "Or um, I mean, say the exact opposite of the truth for uh, for fun? Not lie but uh… make fun of you?" Morfynn truly didn't understand what she was getting at but Eldrad figured it out.
"You know the location of the Cauldron of Ice and Fire?" Eldrad asked and the necron placed her hands together.
"Well I, I think so? It's exactly where you're going, it's on Yggdrasil." What! Morfynn internally cursed Cegorach and she was sure everyone else was as well. Trying to send them on a wild, pointless chase! "There's an inland sea called the Cauldron, it's where the hot and cold water meet. And uh, there's a tour company? It's called the Ice and Fire Extreme Water Sports." Morfynn actually did reach up to rub her forehead then. This was giving her a headache. The Harlequin suddenly laughed, loud and long.
"Ah, Laughing God, you love your little jests! Well, then we know where we shall go after we acquire the final sword," he said but Manric had a few misgivings, looking at Eldrad.
"Can you please check to see what the prognostications are for Yggdrasil, when we bring forth your god of death?" Ah, that was actually a good point. What would that do to the planet? "I hope we will not have to give up Yggdrasil but if we must, we will need to evacuate the population." Morfynn winced a little at the thought. She had seen visions of the planet they were going to be sharing a system with, a beautiful little world that was being well tended by the human inhabitants. It would be a tragedy to destroy it. Eldrad nodded.
"I will definitely check that, but later. For now, let us make ready to begin our descent into the realm of She-Who-Thirsts." They were going… now? Morfynn felt paralyzed, as the ghost wood was portioned out and everyone checked their armor. Manric took the moment to gently reassure his Warrior companion and Morfynn realized that was a good idea… she went to her nephew and, to his surprise, gave him a full hug.
"Ah, aunt, it will be fine. I'll be back soon," he murmured in her ear and Morfynn shook her head, feeling his solidity against her. "I promise."
"Don't make promises you can't keep, nephew. Just do your best." The Gardens were the greatest of horrors but she prayed he came back. And if he didn't… if he was one of the ones that fell… as long as the sword was returned, she would weep but still accept the sacrifice.
But it could not be in vain. Please, let it not be in vain.
++++ Top Secret ++++
5006078.M42
To any reading this, please be aware that reading this document requires that you be considered a High Inquisitor, or be sanctioned by such. If you are not such a noteworthy or given such official sanction, may the Emperor have mercy on your soul.
This is the account of an abomination of xenos technology and human arrogance, a human mind transferred into a xenos shell. He is Xenos Horrificus and an enemy to Mankind. However, it grieves me to say that due to the abomination of a peace treaty the great Roboute Guilliman has forged with these xenos, the current threat level they pose has been downgraded to Minima. Threat designation was previously Xenos, but in light of their bizarre technological advancements, has been altered to Xenos/Obscura.
However, this account does not deal with matters of the Ordo Xenos but rather, the Ordo Malleus. This account was acquired on request of Roboute Guilliman from the xenos in question. This is the only known account from one who has traveled into the Immaterium and directly into the gardens of Slaanesh, and survived the experience fully sane. This was accomplished in the company of other xenos filth, powerful eldar psykers. If you are weak of mind, please do not continue reading past this point. If you are strong in your faith and sanctioned to learn, continue, but remember that these are the words of the xenos.
Here is where the account begins.
++++ Top Secret ++++
Entering the realm of Slaanesh was very easy.
I did, in truth, expect it to be so. The Prince of Pleasure has no desire to keep petitioners from her doorstep. The contrary, she throws wide the door to them, bidding them to enter and eat and drink their fill. In general, a commendable strategy but one that would cost her dearly today.
We snuck in, using the abilities of our soul healers to reflect ourselves with the surroundings. This was vital as we did not want Slaanesh to truly know we were there. Oh, she does indeed love the lost souls that come to see her, but we were far from lost. The purposeful and prepared are quite a bit different from the bedazzled and drifting.
Do you know of the ancient religions your people used to follow, the practice of Christianity? I cannot wonder if somehow, Slaanesh knew of those practices because just as described in ancient texts, there were circles to her hell. The first three were easy for us to penetrate. The next three were harder, much, much harder.
The first circle of temptation offered to us was riches and wealth. We walked through a beautiful landscape of gold and jewels. Rubies gleamed temptingly, inviting you to take one, just one. Emeralds and sapphires winked and diamonds blazed. You just had to reach out a hand and slip one into your pocket. What was the harm in it? Even I felt the pull, as I saw a star sapphire… it reminded me of the one my mother had worn all the time, when I was but a child.
Of course, we all knew the danger of that. It would never be just one. Put a single gem in your pocket, take a single coin, and you would find a reason to take another. And another. And another. We all spurned the temptation and as the urge faded, we could see the bones scattered in the desert of riches. The poor fools who had succumbed to the allure and died there, unable to drop a single thing. And so we moved on.
The second circle was, for me, even easier than the first. My necron body does have a sense of smell, but in the improved biotransference of human to pwi-necron, the animal portion of our brain that governs base urges is excised. That is necessary, because that portion of the mind believes things like it should be breathing and can cause endless torment if it is not removed. But that meant the smell of the wine was nothing to me, even as I experienced the cloying aroma. The eldar with me had to struggle, but I merely looked at the water that was actually wine and wondered again if Slaanesh knew Christianity. It seemed like an abominable twist upon our beliefs.
As the eldar recovered, I looked towards the islands in the center of the lake of wine and saw beautiful spreads of food, heavenly piles of fruit and meat and bread. And, to my utter disgust, in the midst of that abundance were the bodies of the dead. I can only presume that just like the gold and jewels, they died because one bite was never enough. It had to be more, more, more until even the stomach split open, the body bursting from within. Of all the realms of Slaanesh, I confess that I found this one the most disgusting. While I can no longer eat and feel no desire for it, food has always been a thing of comfort and family in my culture. To see it defiled this way felt obscene.
We moved on to the third circle and again, I was immune to the blandishments. This time, we were assaulted by the temptations of the flesh. We came into this circle into a rich land of grasses, lit with a gentle golden glow. To make our way through, we had to enter a great complex of silken tents, filled with intoxicating incense. The silken pathways seemed designed to touch us, gently caressing the skin or in my case, necrodermis. It was pleasant to me but much worse for my companions, who quickly became overstimulated. And as that happened, we were assaulted by visions of beauty beyond all reckoning. All obscured by the silk and smoke, we had to endure and pass by the visions of mortals and demons entwining in the most intimate of ways, the beauties that beckoned us to stay. Fortunately, the eldar with me were well fortified and while it was hard for them, they rejected the blandishments offered. The greatest danger was that we might be detected by the daemonettes, but we slipped past.
Now, we move to the fourth circle, and here is where I met my greatest challenge. For if any of you reading this wish to confront the Prince of Pleasure, remember: She does not tempt merely through vices, but through virtues. And I regret to say I did not pass this test, not by my will alone.
The fourth circle of hell is an endless dream of glory and accomplishment. You fall into a great vision where you are lauded, uplifted, held in high regard and feted as a savior. Ah, you might think that is easy to break free from, but I assure you it is not. The genius of this temptation is that it feels completely real. Things do not go entirely your way, not at all, you must struggle hard to find these achievements. You will suffer reversals and misfortunes, others will be promoted ahead of you. But in the end, you continue to triumph. I believe the only reliable way to break free of this dream is self-doubt. But the awful truth is that those who are most likely to succeed in the prior three trials, who are the strongest of mind and will, are also likely those to possess the least amount of such doubt. Pardonable pride is not so pardonable, in the hellscape that is the garden of Slaanesh.
I confess that I was lost. I lived a life of building, taking chaos and turning it into order, and I rejoiced in my accomplishments. I was elevated to nemesor, commanding a new wing of the Stormlords forces, and presented great victories to his feet. And not for one moment did I doubt, for I knew I had this in me. I knew my own worth, my own abilities. But then everything changed. All I was building began to rot, ships falling into disrepair, my friends crumbling into rust. My mind shrieked and I was thrown from the vision, into a plane of black ash. And as I looked around in confusion I saw, clinging to my leg, a disgusting little thing of eyes and mouths and pustulant sores. It dropped from my body and scuttled away, leaving me utterly shaken. As I comprehended what had happened I realized that awful little thing had been a spawn of Nurgle, come to aide us in our quest. Ah, the games Chaos plays against itself… no doubt the elder siblings wanted to teach the younger a lesson.
The eldar were all frozen in this black ash, experiencing their own visions. I took heed from the little nurgling and broke them from their visions with a good, cold blast of doubt. With my empathic telepathy, it was easy for me and we were freed from the spell of this hell. I know he acted purely for his own interests but I cannot help but thank Nurgle for his intervention. Without that, I believe we would have been lost.
I cannot say what the temptation of the fifth circle is. This time, we invoked a great ritual of eldar magic that I do not understand. Taking hands, we walked through the forest of great pines and while there were pools of water, we did not look. I wanted to look, it was a great temptation, but we passed them by. We cheated this challenge, moving past it without facing it and I cannot be more grateful. I believe it would have been as difficult as the fourth, another challenge of virtue rather than vice. The only advice I can give you is don't look into the water, if you can.
The final challenge, the sixth one, is both obvious and incredible seductive, the test of indolence. After completing all five of the tests, a challenger could well be forgiven for wanting to rest. And here is a land dedicated to that. Beautiful beaches, like an Imperial Pleasure Planet. Soft golden light shining from a murky sky, just the right ambiance to encourage a nap. Surely you deserve it, after all you have gone through. Surely, you can just sit down a moment. Let the spirits gently massage away your pain, put aside your weary cares.
You cannot rest. We could not rest, and fortunately, we found a great flame in our chests. We were so close! So close to our goal, our treasure, so close. We cast aside the repose they offered and the spirits fled from us, shrieking. We closed our ranks and blended in as hard as we could, as we passed by this challenge to our ultimate goal… the Palace of Slaanesh.
Afterwards, we compared our recollections of this part of the journey and we realized we all saw something different. We suspected it at the time… we found we kept moving away from each other and we had to link hands again, to keep from losing each other. For me, what I saw was a vision of true beauty. For me, the Palace of Slaanesh was open to the sun, a glorious shining sun in a cerulean sky. The palace itself was Grecian columns, long broken from age but beautifully wound with climbing ivy, and statues of beautiful women so covered in moss that it looked like clothes. I had always deeply admired that style and thought that if I ever made a palace for myself – unlikely – this was the aesthetic I would choose.
Slaanesh did not know we were there. Her open doors had backfired for once and we found our goal, the hidden weapon that the eldar needed. It was surrounded by a harsh barrier that hummed with torment. We had great bags of ghost wood but I knew it would not quite be enough. To prepare us, I spun more out of the air, until I thought we had enough.
Then the three of us, the soul healers of our group, began to syphon away the souls into the ghost wood. It was hard for us, so hard, because Slaanesh had with great malice included the souls of the unworthy. The torturers and sadists, the vile and debased, assaulted us and I had to force myself to accept them. I had to force myself to extend the mercy they did not deserve and find compassion in my heart. It was so hard, so hard, but I did it. We did it, and brought those souls into the ghost wood to be returned to the Infinity Circuits of the aeldari. To be given to the God of Death.
That finally alerted Slaanesh and the demons began to converge. Daemonettes and Keepers of Secrets slid between the columns, confused and hostile. My companions began to fight them, defending us as we continued our work. I focused on nothing but the moving of souls, as the barrier became weaker and weaker. Ghost wood glowed and floated in the air, ready to come with us when were done. As horrid as many of those souls were, we would not leave them to Slaanesh.
The barrier finally shattered and one of the eldar eagerly reached in, grasping and pulling forth the sword. As she did I saw a gleam of gold and moving with instinct, reached in myself… I quickly pulled out a golden chain, thick and full. I resolved to look at that later, when I had time, and we began the process of leaving.
We might have been doomed in this moment, as the hordes of Slaanesh threw themselves at us with wanton fury. But even as they did, the ground crumbled under them, rotting beneath their feet and dumping them into some other place. Random chance afflicted them, as daemonettes stumbled and tumbled, their movements suddenly lacking grace. Keepers of Secrets roared with rage and slammed their claws down on daemonettes, unable to tell friend from foe. And in that great confusion, we made our escape, prize in hand. And while they are not friends or allies by any means, I quietly acknowledged the assistance of the other Ruinous Powers. Slaanesh's arrogance had backfired upon her, in the end.
We returned to Craftworld Iyanden and ghost wood spilled around us. Some of them broke and fractured as they fell from the air, but the souls within were caught by the Infinity Circuit, flowing into the ship. And finally, finally, we could all truly rest. Looking around I saw that our victory had come with a cost… two of our defenders had perished. But we had done it. The victory was ours.
Now, however, I wish to address the reader of this account. If you are thinking of going into the gardens of Slaanesh, don't. For any one person to complete all of the trials and reach Slaanesh without assistance is, quite frankly, almost impossible. And I cannot recommend taking companions, unless you have the ability to see the future. That is how my companions were selected… they were picked by the greatest eldar farseers, who knew they would not fall to temptation. There were many great warriors, strong and worthy, who were passed by. You cannot know who will stand and who will fall, in the Gardens of Slaanesh.
Hopefully, however, those Gardens will soon be razed to the ground because the eldar intend to kill her. And now, they have the weapon to do it.