It was my first time visiting an Exodite world for an extended period, and the experience was shaping up to be everything Fia had promised.
+I knew you'd like it here.+
Onellon, as far as Exodite worlds went, was a peculiar one.
+As if you knew… Really, I don't understand where the craftworlders got a notion about a 'typical Exodite world'. They are all different.+
+Could be dinos, Fia.+
+So what if they all raise them? It's like saying that the only difference between craftworlds are their preferred colors, with the Aspect Shrines being basically the same throughout all of them.+
+Fine, I concede to your wisdom once again, oh Wise Pathfinder.+
Yet, one of Onellon's curiosities was that as far as we knew, the locals settled on it relatively late and mostly kept to a single continent. The reason for the latter was quite mundane - the terraformation of the planet had been aborted halfway, leaving it tectonically unstable.
Frequent and violent earthquakes had led the locals to view further expansion as a futile endeavor, at least until the influence of their World Spirit encompassed the whole planet, granting them control over distant areas. As it stood, they weren't even bothering with setting up warrens - as the locals called intra-planetary webway pathways - outside of their inhabited continent, for they required too much effort to properly maintain.
+Hopefully not too soon, as it would make this place boring.+
Yes, the untamed nature of the planet itself was one of the reasons why Fia has chosen it for our journey.
+I had always wanted to surf on a tsunami.+
Truthfully, I was having one of the best times of my life; it felt like stepping once again into the wildest fantasies from the Path of the Dreamer, with reality eclipsing even my most vibrant imaginings. Watching volcanoes explode in fiery majesty, gliding above rivers of molten lava, exploring newly opened rifts and caves, or scaling the majestic peaks freshly thrust towards the sky - it was all exhilarating.
Of course, contrary to Fia, I was still relaxing within the constraint and with moderance allowed by my Path. However, unlike some of the more rigorous callings, the tenets warrior ought to follow weren't that restrictive.
+Keep deceiving yourself.+
To never glow complacent in the training and readiness for battle. To never let an insatiable thirst for violence consume one's nature. Those were the most important to follow.
So, while unlike Fia, I couldn't have lazed all day on a beach…
+Hey!+
…or overeaten until I couldn't even move anymore…
+What can I do, I just couldn't get enough of their magma stew.+
+For which exodites were giving you stink eye for longcycles, disapproving such waste of supplies.+
Neither could I have indulged anymore in the most potent substances I used to concoct for dreamers…
+Great stuff, Iriath. Not that you hadn't known before...+
…however there was still a bounty of activities to fill my time. Tempering myself over long treks? Testing my mettle against the forces of nature, fighting and using them for my own bidding? In some ways it would be epitome of what a warrior should aspire to.
Of course, it wasn't all we occupied ourselves with. Even the more exhilarating undertakings often were a byproduct of us supporting the locals.
+Seeing that it was the right thing to do, not merely because you wanted them to entrust us with their trained dinosaurs, right?+
+Who are you taking me for, Iriath? It is a sacred custom that those among Asuryani who decide to live amongst Exodite tribes always offer their skills and support in exchange. After all, they perceive us as strange, romantic figures - masters of lore and a way of life that feels both archaic and arcane… do you want me to continue?+
Not only were we scouting the proximity of their village, nor fending off the beasts and wildlife dwelling there. My skills as a herbalist were utilized far beyond Fia's amusement, the concoctions and tinctures I brewed were put to use primarily by Onellon's elders and to heal the locals.
+I should have taken holo-recordings. Otherwise no one would believe me that Khainite was treating someone's wounds.+
While it might have been an exaggeration on Fia's part, it was truly a strange sensation to, despite feeling the Bloody Handed's call, nurture the life of another. And all the same, wasn't it one of the cornerstones that led me towards becoming Warp Spider, the desire to protect?
"Hands that kill should also cure," I recalled a warlock saying once. It was something I was beginning to understand these days.
Still, a large chunk of our time has been dedicated to training the locals in Khaine's ways. Unfortunately, there was another curiosity about Onellon. For the wildlife and unstable tectonics of the planet weren't the only - nor arguably the greatest - danger the Exodites faced…
When Cydamyr Starshade, Val'Nae'Runth, whose title amounted to king-among-rangers, summoned us, Fia couldn't hide her anticipation.
+Finally, after longcycles of hard work, we'd get a chance to have some real fun!+
"You've been a great boon to us over the past seasons, and proved yourselves to be accomplished warriors in your own right," Cydamyr said. "I also know that both of you expressed interest in learning the ways of our Dragon Riders."
Fia was practically giddily bouncing on her heels by now, a gesture that both I and the Exodite chose to tactfully ignore.
"A desire I'm willing to accommodate now. The cold seasons are approaching; our settlements will prepare for the winter, as would most of the beasts dwelling within our lands. As is the custom, only a handful of warriors would remain to protect our cities, both to reduce the drain on our supplies, and to give us the opportunity to scout and explore distant continents. I thought you'd be more interested in the latter."
"Of course! When would we start?"
"While I appreciate your enthusiasm," Cydamyr raised a hand to temper Fia's excitement, "I want to ensure you understand what we expect of you. By now, you must be aware that we are not the sole owners of Onellon."
"Orks," I said.
We had encountered feral bands of greenskins and were asked to help cleaning squig infestations in the caves around the settlements a few times during our stay here.
"They first appeared a few arcs ago. Back then we tried to eradicate them - even going as far as to seek assistance from Asuryani - but it was a mistake. Our struggles only made them multiply and grow more vicious, day by day, until we found ourselves not exterminating them, but fighting for our very survival. Only with further help from another craftworld - Biel-Tan - did we manage to snatch victory."
"But the infestation remained."
Cydamyr nodded, "On our continent, they are barely a problem these days, mere feral beasts keeping our younger warriors sharp. On distant lands, it varies. Usually they form primitive tribes, struggling with local dragons or against each other, best left alone without our intervention. Sometimes, however, one of the tribes becomes dangerous enough to warrant attention. That's what would be expected from you. Identify the threats and warn us so we can gather the host to cull them. Or, preferably, remove their leaders at your own discretion and judge whether it would be enough. The latter would be particularly important on more remote lands, where sending a warhost would be more difficult. If you are still up for the task, I'll arrange for our warriors to teach you dragon flying."
Fia's eyes sparkled like stars as she met my gaze, her excitement palpable.
+That's what we've been waiting for! You will love it, Iriath!+
I couldn't help but share in her enthusiasm, even as a flicker of uncertainty nestled within me. Where Fia focused on the gleaming prospect of adventure, I was more concerned by the burden of responsibilities associated with the task.
"Count us in, Val'Nae'Runth," I said, keeping my voice steady.
I stood before a veraphrax, barely acknowledging the creature's magnificent form - a blend of deep azure and vibrant green feathers that shimmered like fire in the fading sunlight. I narrowed my eyes, locking my gaze with the beast's golden irises, acutely aware of the defiance simmering within. The stubborn lizard flipped its massive wings angrily whenever I tried to approach, denying me the dubious honor of saddling it.
Both our gazes flickered upward in unison, instinctively reacting to a sudden outburst of laughter carried on the wind. A pang of envy coursed through me as I watched Fia effortlessly cooperating with her steed, soaring through the skies just hours after their introduction. Of course, I expected her to have it easier; after all, she had already flown on the dinosaurs of different worlds.
I, on the other hand, had never been much of an animal person. Now stepping into my third arc of life, the closest I had come to owning a pet was discovering that one of Il'sariadh's warp spiders seemed unusually attracted to me. On Onellon, I had adapted to utilizing some of the local fauna as pack animals, but it appeared that the flying dinosaurs were not only more intelligent but far more whimsical when it came to their riders.
"Let's try this again," I murmured.
Keraei Forestfeather, the Dragon Rider instructing Fia and me, had claimed that veraphraxes were psychoperceptive creatures. Out of the local fauna we had encountered so far, they were the easiest to connect with using the senses I had honed as a thought-talker. I had gained some initial success in my attempt to establish a connection with the one before me, even managing to learn its name - Emberwing. However, all my subsequent attempts were met with hostility and aggression.
My another attempt ended abruptly as Emberwing let out an angered screech, causing me to recoil from the sudden severing of our mental link.
"Maybe I should try with a different dragon?"
"It wouldn't help. If he doesn't trust you, the rest of the pack also won't," Keraei said with finality.
"Can't I fly on another species then? None of your riding dragons seemed to have such an aversion toward me."
"To simply ride a dragon on the ground is an entirely different matter than to fly with one. While you could risk a ground-bound ride on a less intelligent specimen if it possesses other useful qualities, that is not the case when soaring hundreds of meters above the ground. You'll want a mount you can trust, and on Onellon, you won't find more reliable dragons than veraphraxes."
Emberwing cooed proudly, as if affirming Keraei's words.
"So, I have to gain his trust. Do you have any suggestions on how? All Fia did was offer food. With Emberwing, neither that nor reaching out to his mind worked."
"It's not a problem with what you're doing; it's about who you are. Emberwing doesn't trust you because he believes you are trying to deceive him."
The veraphrax nodded in a manner that felt almost eldar-like.
"What do you mean by deceive?"
"You follow Ai'elethra, the Paths. While we understand the concept, it's not our way. Those more versed in the arts of the psyche have told me that to them, Asuryani minds often feel splintered."
"I'd say properly ordered, not easily swayed by whimsical thoughts," I argued, all the while emoting that I took no offense by his statement and meant none with mine. "But why does it matter to veraphraxes?"
"They don't understand this. For Emberwing, you are either someone pretending to be an eldar you are not, or a group approaching him at the same time, looking alike. He is confused and scared. It happens often on the rare occasions when the craftworlders interact with our veraphraxes."
"Iriath, what are you waiting for? Have you found out that you're afraid of heights?" Fia taunted, zipping past us as she began another circle around the Exodite settlement.
"So the reason Fia managed to befriend her mount on the first try is simply because she abandoned following the Paths?"
"Probably," Keraei said. "However, even most of your outcasts usually fare worse. She must have been stuck as one for a really long time, or simply has a great hand to animals."
I sighed, refocusing on Emberwing.
"So, meeting with me is uncomfortable for you. Then we may try taking it slower," I took a moment to center my thoughts, honing in on a single aspect of myself before approaching the veraphrax again. "Now, get used to Iriath the thought-talker, first. Then we will slowly move through all the Paths that I have taken. I have a feeling that Fia and your friend will get bored with flying circles before we're finished."
It took five more cycles before Emberwing began to reluctantly tolerate me, but that was a distant memory now. Three months had flown by, turning us into partners who trusted one another.
During the first, Fia and I trained alongside other newly minted Dragon Riders. Keraei's lessons evolved from handling veraphraxes to stealthily investigating tribes of feral orks, identifying and removing concerning nobz. Only when he deemed us ready did we set off on our mission.
Over the next month, our group steadily moved further away from the inhabited sections of Onellon, splitting into smaller teams to cover the areas assigned to us. By the third month, I found myself once again alone with Fia as we scouted together over distant continents.
"Land ahead!" I called out.
"Finally! I can't wait to sleep on solid ground," she replied, her relief palpable.
"We could have reached the continent much faster if you hadn't insisted on scouring the ocean for orkish pirates," I retorted, grinning.
Both Emberwing and Stormtalon, Fia's mount, hooted in agreement. The beasts were more robust than an average eldar, yet even for them, spending a dozen cycles constantly flying with only short rests to spend drifting on the water have been taxing.
"It was a valid threat! Everyone knows about orkish freebooterz roaming the stars. Was it too much to expect local offshoots prowling in the ocean?" Fia argued.
"I still think they would have accidentally - or maybe deliberately - sunk their ship within a few days if they'd tried that. Keep up, Emberwing! One last push, and you can rest!"
The veraphrax suddenly lurched forward. I laughed, reveling in the exhilarating sensation as we sped past Fia, the wind whipping through my hair, an intoxicating mixture of freedom and adrenaline flooding my senses. The rhythmic pulse of Emberwing's wings seemed to echo along crashing waves of the ocean, and for the moment I let myself believe that it weren't we who were moving, but the world below us.
The coastline was growing bigger with each passing heartbeat. In the distance, a mountain towered above scattered smaller hills, spewing clouds of ash and dust. The land ahead was a vibrant tableau of forests, scarred by the rivers of fresh volcanic ground. Patches of blackened rocks mingled with hues of emerald and russet, tiny yet tenacious plants native to Onellon pushing their way through the cracks, reclaiming the charred landscape. Elsewhere, the air still shimmered with heat, with only a few ancient trees standing defiantly within the ashen backdrop, their leaves glistening not in the sunlight, but reflecting ruby tints from glowing magma flows.
Far too soon Emberwing touched down on the soft sand of the beach and pointedly shrugged me off before curling himself into a comfortable coil.
"Sleep well, you earned it," I said, playfully ruffling the feathers around his snout.
"Have you seen the smoke?" Fia asked after landing beside me moments later.
"From that volcano further inland? It must have erupted recently. Are you already trying to sightsee?"
"No, there was a trail of smoke rising above the trees not far from where we landed. A recently burnt campfire. We could investigate it while the veraphraxes rest."
I nodded in agreement. Even after spending longcycles with Fia, I still marveled at how keen her sight was for picking up minute details in the landscape.
+Years of practice,+ she shot back with a smug thought.
"Lead the way then."
We've entered the forest, swiftly moving through the foliage, our cameleoline cloaks melding seamlessly with our surroundings.
Though I was still unable to navigate with Fia's easy grace, I was improving, no longer catching my cloak on every bush and branch. At first, I had been annoyed by her gift. Despite recognizing the merits of wearing one during our expeditions, moving in it had been infuriating - like learning to walk all over again, while Fia found endless amusement in my clumsiness.
These days, I was actually considering keeping it for myself. I would only have to adjust it to better work with my helmet - right now I was forced to trim its mane to barely fit under the hood, and it limited my movements to such a degree that I took a page from Fia's book and forewent wearing the helmet altogether while scouting.
Some time had passed before we entered a clearing that Fia had spotted from above.
"It is still warm," she said, investigating the burnt campfire.
"How often have we seen orks who actually doused their campfires?" I glanced at the remnants of half-eaten squigs scattered about. "For all we know they could have left the area hours ago."
"The trail looks fresh," Fia replied, scrutinizing the ground. "It's likely a group of around ten nobz and a couple of gretchin. It's not like we have anything else to do; we might as well start scouting the area beginning with the direction they headed to."
Following the trail was easy; the orks weren't even trying to conceal their passage.
+Kurnous must have blessed you,+ I sent, for soon we heard the beasts.
"Are we 'der yet? I want ta see dose vol'gitz!"
"Ere boss! Only a few trees furtha!"
"Den stop shouting, ya stupid git! We're gunna be kunnin' like Mork"
No matter how primitive, the orks always spoke in a similar fashion. Some linguists jokingly compared them to humans in this regard, although the origins of such behavior were believed to be completely different among the greenskins. It was widely agreed among scholars that the knowledge of their main lexeme was encoded within spores, with the tongue itself later changing to incorporate words they 'looted' from other species, bastardized due to their physiology.
+I was right, there is ten of them.+
Ahead of us, the band of nobz was plain to see, their feral forms ragged and wild. Most wielded primitive weapons, mainly crude melee implements crafted from stone, reinforced with bits of dinosaur bone and wood. One ork stood out among the rest - larger, with a battered helm perched atop his head. It was made from metal, along with a rusty, oversized cleaver he brandished, wearing both as if they were his badge of honor.
A few gretchin scuttled about nervously, kicked around by the nobz with mocking disdain, hastened to keep up with their bigger brethren.
+Look, some of them carry guns.+.
I pointed at nobz kept in the center of the group, equipped with makeshift firearms. Rudimentary, at best, even compared to what most of their spacefaring kin wielded. The barrels were fashioned from hollowed out tree trunks, cobbled together with crudely forged metals and bones to form triggers and firing mechanisms. However, when compared to the locals we've encountered so far, those primitive firearms marked a significant leap in development of their tribe.
+This area is already becoming more interesting than our previous one. That huge nob must be the one they referred to as a 'boss.' He might be a tribe leader; we should eliminate him.+
+I find your eagerness for violence concerning, Fia. Maybe you should look for an Aspect Shrine on Il'sariadh?+
+It's not even violence; I'll only need a single shot.+
+Remember, we are in rarely patrolled areas. We expected to encounter larger and more organized tribes here. For now, let's tail them. First, let's find out about those vol'gitz; are they hunting some local fauna? Then we'll follow this group back to their village; it's better to make sure he's the real boss. Your shot may wait.+
+Spoilsport.+
The group of orks we had been tailing suddenly stumbled upon another band, this one smaller in size and fewer in number. For a moment both parties sized themselves in surprise.
"Vol'gitz! Kill dem all!" the big nob barked gutturally.
Typically, in an ork skirmish, size and numbers dictated the outcome: larger groups ground smaller ones into submission without much effort. But what unfolded before us was remarkable. The three smaller orks grinned savagely, their fingers tightening around the triggers of weapons that even unused seemed to fume and crackle with unstable power. When fired, they unleashed shafts of searing thermal energy.
+Is this… melta?+
The beams surged forth, emitting a piercing shriek as they cut into the larger group, boiling away water molecules with a hissing sound. The concentrated lines of heat sliced through their crude armors and flesh effortlessly, disintegrating whatever they touched. A savage cacophony of noise produced by the guns merged with joyous shouts of the shooting orks and pained grunts of the ambushers.
+I doubt our armor would have fared any better.+
One of the defenders, a wiry ork with wild eyes, laughed maniacally, not bothering to aim, content to fire indiscriminately at everything around, leaving trails of sizzling smoke and scorched earth, eliciting terrified screams from gretchin scurrying from cover out from the burning foliage. Just as he pulled the trigger for another shot, his weapon - clearly straining under the pressure - exploded in a blinding flash. The blast sent shockwaves through the clearing, toppling nearby orks and engulfing the area in choking smoke.
The ambushers seized their chance, charging headlong into the melee with renewed fervor. When the smoke finally settled, only three battered nobz stood amidst the burning clearing, panting heavily but still triumphant.
"Dat was a propa' scrap! Now, wot are ya wait'n for? 'der are three uv us, an' dey had three shootas. I'm tak'n 'da biggest, 'da rest iz yours ta 'ave. Den we are gunna showz 'da whole tribe 'oo iz 'da bigge't ork!"
One of his remaining followers scratched his head, a look of uncertainty crossing his face, "Bu' are we, boss? Boss Skar'smasha iz bigga dan yer."
"With dese shootas, 'e won't be fo' long!" the big nob snapped.
"But wun iz broken!" the third protested.
Both followers were already sizing each other up, prepared to fight for the remaining gun.
"We are gunna br'n 'da pieces ta boila boyz! Yer 'der, scram around an' gatha wot iz left uv 'da weapon!" the big nob snarled, seizing a gretchin and tossing it dismissively. "Nov!"
The grot flew through the air, by the stroke of luck straight towards me. The unexpectedness caught me off guard, triggering the instincts ingrained by the War Mask. I immediately called for my wrist-mounted powerblade and swatted the creature aside, its ichor spraying in an arc before it even hit the ground.
"What iz dis?" the big nob tilted his head, a look of confusion etching across his brutish features. "I neva seen such... skrawny?"
+Change of plans,+ I sent to Fia,
In the same moment I activated my jump generator, unsheathing my sword in one fluid motion. Not a heartbeat later, I emerged near the wannabe boss. Before he registered the danger, my blade swept through the air, cleaving him in half. Another quick flick dispatched the second ork, followed immediately by Fia, whose rifle barked to life, finishing the third before he could even react. The remaining gretchin attempted to run, but fell soon after.
"And you claim that I was thirsting for violence?" Fia smirked, lowering her weapon. "You could have just sidestepped that grot."
"Call it premonition. If I had tripped on the cloak trying to evade it, I would have never heard the end of your mockeries."
"Not in a hundred arcs," she laughed softly.
Fia walked closer, both of us investigating the weapons wielded by the ambushed orks.
"I wouldn't yet claim they are at the level of spacefaring orks, but the tribe of those vol'gitz may be concerning," I said, examining the bizarre contraptions.
"Those alloys look… strange," Fia said, brushing grit off one of the intact gun barrels. "But I may be only jumping at shadows, being unfamiliar with local ores."
"Hopefully, it is something the orks created on their own. If they scrapped this technology from elsewhere, there might be bigger problems ahead for Onellon."