Winding the low-hum of the universe back as Sindarion kept a hand on her shoulder, Mable felt quite annoyed as she tried to place themselves on Hisperia while the Emperor was said to be on the planet. Finding a fraction of time and space that she didn't have access to despite never having been before, and believing that her god was perhaps a stabilizing force in the fabric of reality, she felt quite disappointed when it became clear that she wouldn't get to beg the Emperor directly for aid.
It was annoying, but she supposed it was her human hubris that made her believe that she could just meet up with the god of mankind before she had even lived and died within her own time. Forced to accept the failure, Mable released the wound fabric of reality, and appeared back in the empty stretch of dirt, prior to Hisperia's hive city being risen.
"Are we there?" Sindarion asked in agitation, taking a heavy knee as they came to Hisperia likely a century or so before they had met the traveling hover-biker. Looking then at the armory they had walked to prior to their teleportation, Mable nodded, and then looked for any potential guards or sentries… finding none on the horizon.
"We are. I tried finding the Emperor, but I think his existence stops time traveling around him, so… well, we could wait here for like, fifty years if you want, and maybe we'll see him then?"
"No… we don't have that kind of time." The Angel of Death breathed out as he stood, looking up at the two metal doors that were standing before them. Blinking at the metal bunker that was jutting out of the earth, covered in stone, dirt, and short grass above, Mable watched as the Black Templar approached the metal outcropping supporting the bunker's roof.
"So, uh, do you know how to get in there?"
"Yes." Sindarion quietly muttered through his helmet, and as Mable slowly approached, she would freeze as the Angel of Death grew violent, ripping out the paneling that had blended in with the wall. Going so far as to be talkative, the Astarte began to explain a preconception about the greater Imperium. "It is believed that the technology before our age was better, but simultaneously, the security of their technology was far inferior to what ours is now. Were it not for the Arch-Enemy's daemonic power evolving with our technology, we would have long since obliterated them."
"Ah… um." She made noise, unsure what the Astarte meant by his statement filled with hate. Having been surprised when the portal to hell opened, and out popped a space marine, Mable… felt as though there had to be something rather important to these people she had not been taught by the matrons. "W-well… it has been ten thousand years. I'd hope the security would get better."
She was glanced at briefly by Sindarion, whose currently singular red lens looked at her… before turning back to the panel. Using his ceramite gauntlet to move sparking wires carelessly into position, Mable was quite startled when the gate slowly began to open. Looking at the space marine who had taken… maybe twenty seconds in total to hack the ancient bunker, Mable gave a compliment to the one who had been in low spirits prior to their arrival here.
"Way to go. You got that-"
"Enough pleasantries." Sindarion cut her off, descending into the darkness of the bunker as his chest-mounted flashlights flickered on. Frowning at the interruption, Mable… would just nod to herself in affirmation, and descend in silence.
Watching as Sindarion picked up a new bolter, the warrior test-firing it once, before letting out a grunt of satisfaction before unloading, putting a new bolt-shell into place, and then reinserting the weapon's magazine. Looking at the ancient weapons that were lined up on walls, stacked in crates they had opened, and then to the vehicles that had been carefully parked, Mable too began to feel excited at the prospect of taking home these brand-new artefacts. Asking a question to the Black Templar who was heading to a strange tubular, wheelless, stationary object, Mable would feel a bit out of place in the armory designed for giants to ready for war, rather than people.
"So… you think any of this will help against the Tyranids?"
"I'm sure it would." The man stated, heading to the armor section of the armory, finding many plates of ceramite he began to exchange and magnetically bolt to the frame of his power armor. Watching briefly as the man took off his helmet, Mable would glance at a mane of gold that fell to the nape of his neck… and then, being unable to see the warrior's face as he used a hand to push his hair into the helmet he was replacing his own with immediately, Mable would bring a hand to her mouth as a hiss of air was released as the warrior vacuum sealed his armor once more. Turning, looking at her as she looked away, Mable would be questioned with a strange new vox that sounded far more… sultry, than his previous one. "Mable, why are you laughing?"
"It's… nothing." Mable whispered, wiping the smile off her face and trying to look serious in front of the warrior whose head was now shining purple with a silver and gold aquila-emblem on his forehead. Just nodding to the space marine who had grown a beak, Mable… would kill a scoff in her throat as she tried to seriously talk to her escort. "It's… it looks nice, Sindarion."
"You are lying, but it matters not." The Astarte stated, slinging his new bolter… and stopping at the wall of massive knives, strange looking swords, and what appeared to be a massive glaive. Looking at his chainsword for a moment as he clearly compared his weapon to the what in their day would likely be considered a relic, the Black Templar would pick up a power sword that was as long as she was tall, that a blue energy immediately flared alive to oxidize the air.
"That looks cool." Mable truthfully stated, the beaked faced space marine turning slightly to look at her, which made her laugh with how serious he was despite looking like a bird. Wiping her eyes as she killed the mirth she felt, Mable watch as the space marine exchanged his chainsword for the power weapon, his analyzing words being quite soothing with his new vox-caster.
"As to your original question, we must not take things that we do not know how to operate… and there is clearly a limit to your time travel. My armor is backwards compatible with older modeled gear. Were my chainsword not about to run out of fuel, I would not be replacing it, either. Now, tell me, which of these bikes are you wanting to take to the Eldar ruin?" Sindarion spoke unintentionally seductive as he went to a wooden crate labeled 'MELTA' and broke the lid off. Watching as he started to place bombs on the corners of the box, Mable would point towards the tubular vehicle on the ground. "The Jetbike? Why that?"
"Uh, the other guy looked to be having fun with his." Mable offered, not having any real reason beyond the fact that it looked cool. Looking at the wheeled bikes with guns on the handlebars, and then the compact squad-vehicles that were likely going to be as comfortable as the Thunderhawk, Mable hoped that the wheelless hoverbike would be a smoother ride since they wouldn't be bumping off the ground.
"Well… I suppose it won't be too much different from a Land Speeder. You'll have to sit in my lap or on the floorboard, it appears." The Astarte casually pointed out as he started to plant what were clearly explosives on the weapons he had just looked over. Blinking as the Astarte stopped arming the bombs to check out the bike's configuration… Mable would be given a beaky nod by the space marine. "It should do."
"Cool. Should I try to start it, or… do you want me to prime those bombs?" Mable asked… and as the Astarte looked to their transportation, and then to the explosives he was clearly going to sabotage this depot with, he would give her his preference.
"The vehicle."
Aside from the fact that she had to stand where the Astarte could sit, the Jetbike wasn't too hard to start. Having a massive button that had the aquila marked on it, Mable was able to get the vehicle to a hovering state after pushing the Astarte-sized button. Looking at the screen behind the handles which showed gauges and what appeared to be an 'EMPTY' ammunition counter, signaling that this vehicle had the potential for weapons as well, Mable would feel a sense of excitement as she started to lean on the edges of the vehicle. Able to tilt the entire machine towards the floor of the armory until it was just a few centimeters off the ground, Mable would be greatly startled as the fun ended when Sindarion arrived and picked her up by the back collar.
Kicking out briefly as she was lifted, and then placed on the sitting Astarte's lap, Mable would be pushed against the Black Templar's torso as the bike suddenly roared and fired its jets. Carrying them towards the vehicle exit, Mable closed her eyes as the gravity around them increased as they sped towards the surface of the planet.
Then, getting out apparently in the nick of time, Mable placed her hands over her ears as a series of explosives detonated… and although no sparks or flash was seen, after a moment, Mable would look to the gates they were quickly retreating from, and watch as smoke began to billow out. Briefly glancing to the purple beaked helmet whose red eyes were staring forward, Mable… just nodded to herself as she tried to look forward… only to be buffeted by the wind that slapped her in the face.
"Where am I going?" She was questioned by the Astarte… and as she dug through her satchel, she would find the data-pad that had been updated with by the man they had met… in the future, she supposed. Glancing at it, finding it hard to read as they shook, Mable would just hold it up towards the controls… and then, seeming satisfied, the Angel of Death would gently take the device and put it on the small metal space between handles and screen. Remaining silent then, as she wasn't sure if she'd bite her tongue if she truly tried to talk, Mable would take the opportunity to rest… and… be somewhat surprised, as she heard the vox-caster declare gratitude towards her. "Thank you."
It felt nice to be thanked, Mable thought to herself as she closed her eyes.
Shaken awake as they came to a stop, Mable blinked several times… and then look to the sky above them. Looking at the stars, and the moon of Hisperia glowing brightly… Mable would feel… quite small. Never having seen the night-sky of their world, the rockcrete towers and protective walls keeping the hive safe from enemy bombardments and hiding the sky away from everyone inside, Mable just… felt tears run down her face as she stared at the sky.
"It's beautiful."
"The Eldar Ruin?" The Angel of Death asked… and as she blinked, looking towards what the man was staring at, Mable… would wipe her tears and look to what the now silent and lowered Jetbike's front lamps were illuminating. Seeing only the hints of a structure that wasn't even a tenth the size of a hive spire, Mable… would look once more to the sky, and deny the query.
"No, the stars. I've only ever heard of them. I didn't realize… how beautiful they were."
The angel that had come from the stars did not say anything, and although she hoped that it was because he wanted her to have this moment to herself, Mable could not help but feel if he spoke honestly, it would ruin the beauty she found in this moment. Looking to the warrior that had once been a normal human like her, and had been grown, trained, and engineered to fight the enemies of mankind – such as the Tyranids who also came from the space between the stars – Mable… could not help but feel that the beauty she saw now would be stained and feared, were she not as ignorant as she was.
"Mable." Sindarion would call out as she slowly began to move towards the Eldar structure… and although she stopped briefly to let the warrior catch up, she couldn't help but speak.
"Come on, Sindarion. If Redmane told us that we could come here anytime, that means the shard can't be moved easily… and if Redmane didn't trap this, I'd hate to see what an Eldar brick looks like."
Climbing up a series of large steps meant for a taller people, Mable had trouble ascending to the top of the ruin – but thanks to the tireless warrior's hand, she was able to reach the flat roof of the ziggurat. Angered immediately as she saw what was clearly a staircase downwards, next to some kind of alien icon that faced them, Mable glanced to the space marine that just stared at the object for a moment, and then followed her down into the temple.
Stopping soon after entering, Mable heard what sounded like singing as she slowly resumed her descent. Blinking for a moment as she tried to make sense of the words she was hearing, Mable turned to the Astarte, who seemed unfazed by the noise, and shifted around her to lead the way. Allowing him this great honor of going forward, Mable descended after the giant, who she realized was still holding the cannister of nanomachines on his butt.
Snorting at the thought that a doomsday weapon was only protected by the space marine's ass, Mable would get a look directed towards her by Sindarion, whose flashlights turned off as the light she generated reflected off the walls. Moving down towards the singing choir, Mable and the space marine would halt at the bottom of the Eldar steps, and look into the… very strange temple interior.
No longer made of stone, but some kind of pale, smooth substance, Mable would be stunned by the fact that it was an empty room – no singers that were beginning to raise their voices being physically present as they stepped on the alabaster substance that held their weight. Looking at some kind of brazier that was in the center of the room surrounded by two archways with faintly glowing lights, the red flames that seemed to just… exist, despite there not being any fuel to keep it alive, Mable would notice that something promised was missing.
"Where's the shard?" Mable whispered aloud… and as the space marine continued into the room towards the fire, she would find stillness as she heard the singing stop. "W-wait."
Sindarion halted.
But Mable heard a voice.
A gentle, terribly soft, but… like a knife's tip, pointed, voice.
"What?" The, in comparison, brutish and unrefined voice of the space marine bellowed through his machine helper.
"Just… shut up for a moment. I hear something." Mable whispered as the voice continued to speak… but as she couldn't help but feel… off-put by it, the words being… cadences and spirals that she couldn't make sense of, Mable… wondered if what she was hearing was… in a different time. "Sindarion, come here."
Hesitating for a moment, and then coming to her as ordered, the space marine would kneel and place a hand on her shoulder as she found the low-hum of the universe, instantly. Looking at the threads that were all but visible to her now, even when she was staring at the alabaster white… bone, she was standing on, Mable began to roll up the fabric… yet their surroundings did not turn into the void she was used to. Glancing to the space marine that was frozen in time, Mable would stare into the fire that continued to dance, regardless of the fact that time had ceased.
Finding it hard to comprehend the voice that continued to speak at her, Mable would frown to herself as the song that was questioning her shifted in cadence to –
The fabric unfurled on its own, and as she blinked, Mable would find herself separated from Sindarion, having fallen at some point to the colorless ground. Blinking several times more as she realized she was in an entirely black space – much like when she transitioned between time – Mable would groan in pain… and watch as her breath came out in a hot gas… that then froze, and fell back onto her. Blinking as her expended air continued to shift between hot and cold, Mable… froze and began to feel burning hot at the same time, as she looked up towards… a metal gate that was so… marvelous. Made of twisted wires of so many kinds of metal, forming a net that shifted and reacted to her sights, creating a living page that towered over her, depicting events and characters she couldn't possibly comprehend, Mable… slowly stood… the floor being replaced with the usual void she had grown used to when traveling time.
"Well, that's entirely unexpected." Mable heard… and as she looked around herself, she would stare at the shining metal barrier that began to swiftly, gracefully shift… having formed into a terrible mask of a creature that was bigger than even the Trygon. Taken aback by the face of coiled wire that moved with animated purpose and conversational motion, Mable… felt as though she was staring at the world's largest puppet. "Tell me, creature, what are you supposed to be? Our old enemy, given new form? Or perhaps the Monkeigh, attempting another infiltration?"
"Uh… neither?" Mable asked, more than answered. Unsure what exactly she was dealing with, she would greet the entity that at this point, couldn't be worse than the Tyranids they were trying to fight against. "My name is Mable. Who are you?"
"You ask for a name, not knowing what you stand before? How amusing. How foolish. How… boorish! You humans are always so demanding." The voice commented… and as Mable let out a sigh, she would just nod as she felt the metal wire twist into a many fanged mouth. Already ready for the rejection, Mable would surprisingly get a name… or at least title. "I am the Performer."
"Oh… well. Nice to meet you, Mister Performer." Mable stated, supposing it didn't matter if the entity didn't tell her its real name or not. "Um… you wouldn't have happened to see a shard of Khaine around here, would you?"
"A shard of Khaine? Now, that is a surprising thing to ask from a creature such as yourself. Tell me, who was it that told you about such a thing?"
"An inquisitor." Mable answered, the face shifting, changing, altering, and reforming from a varied expression, but eventually stopped to laugh at her.
"I… see. She must be quite the investigator to figure out one of my people's secrets, seeing how we have been avoiding contact with your barbaric race. Yet, despite knowing what you seek, you are here. Were you expecting one such thing to be in this side entrance?"
Thinking for a moment… and then wondering when in the chronology of existence this god had been fragmented and placed, Mable. Unsure what to tell the creature, Mable would ask a simple question.
"Do you time travel?"
"Constantly."
"Okay, do you… know what year it is?"
"By what calendar?" The creature asked… and as she supposed that her calendar was a skewered towards her human sensibility, and she was staring at what was likely some kind of alien, Mable… corrected her statement.
"How long has it been since existence started?"
There was a pause. A reflection… and then a laugh.
"What language do you think we are speaking right now, human?"
"Uh… Low Gothic?" Mable offered, getting a pause… and then realizing that if they were speaking the same language currently, the alien's clarifying question had been more cordial than she had thought. "Oh, I meant the human imperial calendar. Does that help… sync our times?"
"Couldn't tell you." The creature laughed joyfully, having set her up it seemed. "Your species is still at war trying to figure out the time!"
"Wait, if you know about humanity, surely you know that Khaine was shattered. That happened… like, way before humanity existed."
"Not so, not so. In fact, you humans had been in contact with us, albeit on the other side of the galaxy when he scooted along the Web Way. Your people were quite cordial back then, and were much more enlightened than you are now. Things were looking good between our people…" Mable was told… and as she watched the face shift, and twist into a terrible scowl, she would feel slightly intimidated as the fanged metal wire shaped like a mask let out an enraged comment. "Until she came about."
"She?" Mable repeated… and then was stared at for a time. Staring at her with an unblinking mask, the metal wire face would continue to stare at her, as a strange reverberation was felt along Mable's skin. Wincing painfully as she felt her head shake, as if a hand was gripping her brain, Mable let out a painful groan as she realized her brain was being investigated by the creature. Eventually ceasing whatever it was doing, the creature's puppet-head shook and continued to speak, freeing Mable from the dizziness she felt with its words.
"It matters not. Let us just say that your Great Devourer is entirely different from mine." The Performer dismissed, and then refocused their conversation. "Why are you here 'Mable,' upon the border of the real?"
"I'm, uh… looking for a Shard of Khaine."
"Why?"
"I think… my inquisitor is going to put it into an Eldar prisoner, and then release the Avatar against the Tyranids that are eating our planet."
"You do understand that you are speaking with a representative of the Eldar currently, no?" The Performer asked of her, and as she nodded, another laugh bellowed out from the wires. "Hilarious. Please, continue."
"That's… kind of it, actually. We were looking for it in a temple of your people, but all we found was a floating flame that was creating… well, I thought you were singing, but you're just kind of talking to me." Mable tried to explain… perhaps to herself, more so than the alien.
"A flame, you say? Interesting… interesting." The metal fence of a face commented, before dismissing her thoughts. "I shall send an investigator to see what this song-flame is. I'd go myself, but I don't believe your planet would survive my arrival."
"O-okay. Well, if it turns out its useful, could we get that shard? Or maybe some other kind of doomsday weapon?" Mable asked, getting another laugh as she tried to explain their plan. "We're kind of just trying to gather as much power as possible, so that if we fail, we'll at least take out the Tyranids with us."
"How absolutely chaotic of a plan." The Performer commented with a metallic smirk… and then let out another terrible cackle of joy. "I will watch to see how your tale ends, little hybrid. Try to make it an amusing one."
"Uh… thanks?" Mable asked, and then… realized that her arms were moving on their own. Blinking as the fabric of the universe began to coil around her own hands on its own, Mable would call out to the metal face that had begun to distort. "I guess I'm leaving now! Have a good day!"
She did not get a response, save for a distant, echoing laugh.
"Mable?" Sindarion asked without the use of his vox… and as she was shaken, Mable would wince, and then bring a face to her hand as she looked up to the temple's ceiling. Deafened by the loudness of the song around her, the migraine that was festering in her head returning suddenly, Mable… would wipe her eyes as a blinding pale and azure light suddenly emitted in the room. Grabbed and shifted as Sindarion's loud steps bounced off the bone floor they were standing on, Mable would clear her vision as she stared at…
A lanky, multi-colored, clown of an alien. Seeing the creature wearing a brass mask of a twisted, horrible face, Mable would wince as she looked at the investigator of the Performer. Watching as Sindarion drew his power sword and pointed it at the creature, Mable slowly held up a hand in greeting as Sindarion spoke at the creature through his vox.
"Harlequin, you are-"
"Hi." Mable spoke up, waving down the weapon. "You're the Performer's person, right?"
The creature did not say anything… but as it twisted its head, dancing in place for a time as it made its own sword clear to both of them, Mable fought to stand on her own… more interested in the portal this creature had come from. Similar to the portal of hell, but… static, and but two colors of white and blue, rather than the prismatic splash of solid liquid from what she had seen when the hell-marine arrived, Mable would glance back to the Harlequin, who was staring at the fire… and spoke a string of words to the spectator's confusion.
"Flame of Asuryan. How wonderfully static." The harlequin said in perfect Low Gothic… and then stared at them for a moment longer before speaking. "You seek a Doom and a Fragment?"
"Uh… Doom, preferably." Mable stated, and then watched as the creature spun on its toes, gave a bow, and then jumped into the portal that… remained open. Glancing to the space marine who stood behind her, Mable would dare to speak in the alien's absence. "Are… are we supposed to follow it?"
"I -" Sindarion began, but was immediately cut off as the harlequin returned with two ornate, flowing jars made of an opaque and colorful glass.
Dancing to them with a stunning grace that hypnotized Mable as she suddenly felt something in her hands, only to watch the creature back away out of striking distance of the space marine who reacted far too slowly to intercept or attack it, the laughing harlequin would reveal that now, in her hands, only a single glass remained. Not done yet, the Harlequin gracefully moved its jar over the fire, that, in a simple flourish, seemed to capture the flame before taking out some kind of writing tool and carving into the surface of its glass. The Harlequin, seeming satisfied with its cataloging procedure, would carelessly toss the entire jar into the portal, and then, raising its empty hands, waved them in front of their mask. Revealing that in the motion a metal shard had materialized between the creature's pointer and thumb, the Harlequin would look to them for a reaction.
Feeling awkward for a long moment as the creature continued to look at them, Mable would slowly begin to clap – but would halt as the creature shifted its hand to its ear for her to listen… and as Mable concentrated, she would… hear the song change. The temple, no longer having such a smooth and inviting cadence, but instead a… brooding muttering.
Looking up to the shadowed eyes of the masked creature in recognition that she wasn't the only one who heard this song, Mable would watch as the Harlequin shifted ever so slightly in study, and then gave a bow to them. Then, with a sudden and beautiful leap, the creature jumped back into the portal that then closed, leaving their room in a darkness that would soon be illuminated by the pale light of the radiation Mable was emitting. Only then realizing that she was holding in her hands the other glass jar that was long and flowing, Mable would take a whiff of the… flowery scent that was seeping through the unfastened lid.
"What is it?" Sindarion asked… and as she wasn't sure what to say, Mable would glance to the shard that had been left. Following her gaze, Sindarion began moving towards the shard they had come for… which Mable would quickly speak up to.
"Wait."
"What?" Sindarion would ask, and as she thought for a moment, Mable would look down at the gift that hadn't been spoken of by Redmane.
"I think… I think this is better. I don't know what it is, but… Redmane said not to leave anything I don't want to be found here. Right? So, someone is going to come here and rummage through the place before she finds out about it. Maybe other humans."
"Yes? And?"
"Well… I don't want to leave this." Mable stated, lifting the glass container up.
"Yes? But why don't we take both?" The Space Marine asked, clearly seeing the pragmatic use of the shard that Mable was no longer interested in.
"Because, why else would we come here if not for that? Redmane wouldn't have been able to tell us about the shard if she didn't know about it… but if there's nothing in the temple in the first place to get her attention, she'd never have discovered it, right? I bet someone is going to come here, inspect it, look at the metal fragment, say 'weird,' and then leave. But if they smell this, and look at the cool glassworks… well, they'd take it, right? So, let's take what we don't want found, which is the shard. Then, Redmane can tell us in the future to come here, since she'll know about it by then."
"Okay… well." The space marine started… and then moved his hand away from the shard of an Eldar god, apparently. "I'm not sure about that logic. But if you say that's more valuable than the shard, then… so be it."
"Cool. Alright, let's leave. We've been gone for…" Mable trailed off, looking at the servitor watch on her arm, and realizing they had been gone for the better part of ten hours. Doubting the Hisperia in their time was going to fall in that time, Mable would… briefly look up to Sindarion, who was beginning to move past her towards the exit. "Alright, so we've been gone for ten hours. By the time we get back, it'll be like… eleven? Twelve? They can't have gathered all six of those other artefacts in that time, surely."
"So we help them." Sindarion logically stated, and then paused as an alternative was given.
"Or… since we couldn't see the Emperor, maybe we try to find a Primarch, huh? Sure, the God of Mankind stabilized all time around himself, but what about his sons? Maybe we meet with one of them and… you're not interested, are you?"
"Mable, I have become disillusioned by time travel. Although I would give my life to stand beside my gene-father for but a moment, I do not think the time we'd waste looking for him would help those that I have a duty to protect, now. Even if we stumbled into Rogal Dorn, I do not believe he would want me to waste time… sight-seeing, as though I were an imperial auditor. Come, Mable. We must fly back to the hive city's borders, move forward in time long to climb to a hab-spire not inhabited by Tyranids, and then move back to the time that awaits our return."
"Well… thought I'd just offer." Mable muttered, having just wanted to help raise the warrior's spirits before they both went back to be killed by Tyranids. Walking carefully up the steps, making sure the loose lid stayed closed, Mable would again sniff the contents that were… quite the pleasant aroma. Trying to have a bit more of a conversation with the one slamming up the steps as they moved back to the Jetbike, Mable would begin to chase the incredibly agile and quick space marine. "Want to guess what it is? I'm thinking… a wine that could get all the Tyranids drunk, making them easier to kill. Wouldn't that be cool? Making all Tyranids genetic alcoholics? They'd never get anything done! Hey, Sindarion… wouldn't that… okay. Hey! I need help getting down the…"
So much for being considerate.