Author's Note: For those interested, there are now eight advance chapters on P-atreon (remove the spaces and dash): p-atreon/ SkySage24.
"Thank you for your help, Hand of Asuryan,"
Asurmen bowed respectfully. "It was my honour, Lord Daith."
The Smith-Priest chuckled, his lips twitching into a smile. Daith was dark-haired and of average height for one of the Aeldari, but with broad shoulders and a muscular frame built from millennia spent working in the forge, covered by a smith's apron.
But Daith's most distinguishing feature was undoubtedly his blindfold, concealing his empty eye sockets.
That was the way of the Priests of Vaul, to blind themselves in emulation of the suffering inflicted upon their god by Khaine. As a young man, Asurmen had dismissed it as merely another foolish, barbaric practice of the stupid cults clinging to the ways of the old gods.
But now he knew better.
And despite Daith's blindness, he was highly capable. Not just because he had become the leader of the Cult of Vaul after so many of its old leaders had died in the Fall, but because of the state of his workshop. When Daith had invited him in, Asurmen had been almost surprised to see how neat and pristine it was, with a well-maintained forge, and tools that showed signs of wear but were well-maintained. Polished blades glimmering with golden light, blue-silver rifles and other weapons lined the shelves, each of them a masterpiece that would have earned praise even in the Dominion before the Fall.
Even now, the Smith-Priest was hammering at something at his forge, which glowed silvery-white flames and heat. Despite his blindness, Daith moved with surety and purpose, fluid and confident.
Asurmen wondered what exactly it was he was making. The artisans that Asurmen had known before would have scoffed at Daith's usage of a forge, a flame and a hammer as primitive nonsense, but now Asurmen understood the importance of it. Just as he and his disciples invoked the aspect of Khaine the Avenger with their actions and code, so did Daith act in the emulation of Vaul.
Such acts had power, even if it was often subtle and almost unnoticeable compared to the world-shattering and reality-bending warpcraft that the Eldar were so famous for.
"I must confess," Daith said, pausing for a moment to examine what he was hammering. Not that he could see it, but he could see it, but Asurmen suspected Daith had ways of sight beyond the physical. "I never expected any disciples of Khaine to come to our rescue. You are nothing like the old cults." He resumed hammering away at whatever it was he was crafting, apparently unsatisfied. Asurmen's eyes, however, drifted to the balcony, where a view of Craftworld Yme-Loc lay beyond.
Craftworld Yme-Loc was unique, with its own identity and culture as with every Craftworld that Asurmen had found so far. Here, the influence of the cults of Vaul was heavy and obvious. The buildings of the Craftworld were organized in a grid, laid out with geometric precision. There was rather less crystal than Asurmen was used to in Eldar architecture. Almost none at all. The wraithbone had all been shaped to have a metallic appearance and texture, mostly bronze with some silver.
That wasn't to say it was not beautiful. Far from it. The craftsmanship that Vaul was famous for was everywhere. There were statues of the Smith-God with a kindly smile and a burning torch in hand. There were monuments honouring both victories and losses, including all those who had died to ensure Yme-Loc escaped the devastation of the Fall.
But there were also dense fortifications, great watchtowers and fortresses bristling with all kinds of weaponry. These were the kind of fortifications that other Craftworlds were trying to build now, with the psychomatons crippled by the destruction of the Eternal Matrix.
Yme-Loc, however, had these fortifications already. It was not a trade ship now trying to survive in a galaxy gone mad, the cults of Vaul had built it specifically to escape from the Dominion with as many people as they could.
That was not to say Yme-Loc had not been affected by the Fall. It had, and Asurmen could see the holes in the defences, the cracks in the ship that were not made by the Orks but by the cataclysmic shockwaves of the Dominin's destruction. Despite the best efforts of the Smith-Priests, there were perhaps two dozen functioning psychomatons upon the entire Craftworld, and he knew that attacks by the pleasure cults had forced the Smith-Priests to flee the Dominion sooner and without as many treasures as they would have liked to take.
But it was still better fortified and prepared than any Craftworld that Asurmen had encountered so far.
"Yes, the old cults would have saved us, perhaps, but they would have enslaved us, demanded payment beyond our means and ransacked our vaults as badly as the Ork would have done," Daith continued, pausing his hammering and picking up the object from the forge, apparently unbothered by the fact it was literally glowing with heat. "And yet here you stand in front of me, and ask for nothing in repayment."
Asurmen coughed slightly. While his knowledge of the cults of the old gods was limited, even he had heard whispers of the madness and brutality of the cults of Khaine, how even the cults of the other gods shunned them.
"I would hope so," Asurmen said carefully. "I wish for the Eldar to survive, for us to grow and learn from our mistakes. My students and I, stand in front of you as Khaine the Avenger, not Khaine the Bloody-Handed."
Daith dropped the object, which Asurmen could now see was a solid circle of silver lined with blue, into a vat filled with sparkling blue liquid. "I would not believe you if you had not just saved us," He said finally. "Khaine the Avenger…that is an aspect of the War God no one has worshipped since before the Sundering. Longer, even."
"Times have changed," Asurmen said, feeling the understatement even as he said it. "The Eldar must change with them. To cling to Khaine the Bloody-Handed and his excess of brutality and murder is only to repeat the same sins that led to the Fall."
"Indeed," Daith said with a sigh, turning to face him. "There are many among our cult who still mistrust you if I am, to be honest. They said I should have you and your students cast out immediately," Asurmen suspected that the priest was downplaying the animosity if anything. The disciples and worshippers of Vaul understandably had little love for Khaine's followers. "But for the salvation you have brought to Craftworld Yme-Loc, you have my eternal gratitude, Hand of Asuryan. Do not make me regret it."
"I will not," Asurmen assured him quickly.
Despite the understandable suspicions of the Priests of Vaul, Asurmen had truly only come to save Yme-Loc. One of his newer students, Iryllith, had had a vision of Yme-Loc becoming lost in the depths of an Ork Empire, surviving just barely but only as a hollow husk, with most of its people dead.
Asurmen had made all haste to save Yme-Loc, gathering forces from whichever other Craftworlds were willing to help. Few were, truth be told, given they were struggling, but Asurmen had managed to successfully gather a host of warriors from both Sam-hainn and Biel-tan. They had arrived just in time to repel a massive Ork horde and give Yme-Loc time to flee before they were surrounded.
The Ork empire remained a problem, but it should be splintering now, at least. Asurmen had personally slain the Warboss of the empire in a duel, and now his subordinates would collapse into petty infighting.
It had been a difficult battle and not one without cost. Asurmen had spent nearly a week after the battle bedridden, with yet more scars to show for it.
In the decades since the Fall, he had gathered more wounds than he had in thousands of years of life before. Asurmen's once handsome face was now crisscrossed with savage, vivid scars, and so was the rest of his body.
Once, when he had still been young and vain, he might have mourned the marring of his body. But now he was old and wise enough to know that each scar was a small price to pay for the lives saved and that he was lucky to not have suffered worse wounds.
Daith had scars of his own, visible around his eyes despite the blindfold, and burn marks on his bare arms and torso.
"Tell me, Asurmen," Daith said, crossing his arms. "These practices of yours, of emulating Khaine the Avengers, of pursuing discipline and repression to control our emotions…you are sure they are the right way forward?"
"I am," Asurmen said confidently, recalling what Daith had said about other members of the cult wishing to expel him and his disciples from the Craftworld. "It will be difficult but with the shadow of the Devourer over us, we cannot afford to do anything else. It is the only way."
Daith leaned against a counter, silent for a long moment. "I will be honest: I care not for what you preach. I am grateful for your aid, but to follow the tenets of Khaine, even the Avenger…" Daith shook his head. "Even the shadow of the Devourer is not enough reason. But that is not the only darkness upon our souls, as we both know."
They could both feel it, the whisper at the back of their minds, the weight of iron and the smell of blood that permeated every Craftworld that Asurmen had found so far. The heat from within the depths of the Craftworld, not the heat of a flame, but something far darker and more dangerous.
"That…thing nearly drove us to destroy ourselves," Daith said softly. "Our hate for the Bloody-Handed One was not a shield against it, it only made us more vulnerable. We gave into our rage, pursued battles we should have avoided and made weapons that would have been unthinkable to us." He looked grim. "I do not know how long our minds would have been clouded if not for the call."
"Mother's call," Asurmen said softly, remembering how it had felt, the soothing sensation, the way some of the pain and rage that had haunted him for decades had faded away, his soul becoming just a little jagged.
Daith, however, did not seem to remember it so fondly, his jaw clenching. "The Everqueen's call, yes,"
Asurmen blinked. It was not the first time he had heard someone use that title for Mother Isha, but the way Daith emphasized it, the coldness in his tone…"You were not happy to hear it?" He asked cautiously.
Daith grumbled. "It saved us from the Bloody-Handed One's rage, so I was happy. But…the Everqueen abandoned our god, her brother. She left our lord to be a slave to Khaine, and did not try to rescue him as he rescued her and the Hunter."
"You…resent her?" Asurmen said, taken aback. He had seen many reactions to the voice, from denial and cynicism to desperate hope and joy, but resentment was a new reaction.
"We do not forget what we owe her," Daith said stiffly. "She saved us from the shard and she is our mother besides. But we do not forget her sins either. If she is even alive, and that was not the last act of a dead god."
Asurmen nodded slowly. He couldn't say he agreed, but he understood. But that raised another question. "But you have not cast my disciples and I out for emulating Khaine the Avenger," Even though Khaine was the one who had enslaved and tortured the Smith God in the first place.
"You saved us," Daith reminded him. "And even though you may invoke Khaine the Avenger, you are not Khaine. You were not there when our god suffered. Not even born when the Phoenix King laid down his Edict. And all that aside…the shard continues to whisper to us, to influence our minds. If it regains its hold, there is no reason to believe that the Everqueen will speak once more to free us from its grasp, for she is likely dead. Your methods are the only way we know to avoid succumbing to its influence."
Well. It wasn't the worst reason Asurmen had heard from a Craftworlder for agreeing to listen to him. At least they were willing to listen.
"I cannot stay for long," He replied. "There are other Eldar in need of our aid. But Iryllith, one of my students will remain here and teach you as much as he can."
"I expected as much," Daith acknowledged. "But as gratitude for your help, I have a gift." He returned to the vat, plunging both hands into the sapphire liquid.
Perhaps Asurmen should have refused the gift, but he was fighting to save the entire Eldar race, or at least its remnants, from a galaxy gone mad. He was in no position to refuse generosity.
Instead, he simply said. "Thank you."
Daith lifted a dozen metal circles from the vat, identical to the one he had put in save for being coloured differently on the edges. There was the blue one, but another was red, another green, another white. Curiously, neither the circles nor Daith's hands dripped with the dense blue liquid like they should have.
Daith set the circles down on a table, before offering the blue one to Asurmen. "Here,"
Asurmen resisted the urge to ask what it was, instead grasping it.
The instant Daith let go of the circle, it dissolved into liquid, flowing across Asurmen's skin. The Phoenix Lord was startled, but it wasn't unpleasant or painful in any way, just…surprising. The liquid solidified into dark blue plates, and in but a moment, he was clad from head to toe in gleaming armour.
"What is this?" Asurmen demanded, his voice a little more high-pitched than he would have liked as he turned over his hands, looking through the visor of the helmet he was suddenly wearing.
"Nano-crystal armour," Daith said simply. "If you and your disciples are going to try to save the entire Eldar race, you'll need better armaments. This armour is the best protection I can give you, and it will respond to your thoughts. Just wish for it to do what you want."
Asurmen hesitated for a moment, but then he wished for the armour to come off, and immediately, it all vanished in a shimmer of light, save for a thin blue-silver bracer around his wrist.
"The armour is based on the old suits used by solar surfers," Daith continued. "It should protect you from anything up to and including a solar flare. It will enhance your strength and speed considerably and can form into any number of weapons. It's also self-repairing, so don't worry about any damage it takes. Unless you decide to dive directly into a star or black hole, it can fix itself, given time. And as I said, it responds to your thoughts. You can make it look however you like."
"Daith…" Asurmen trailed off. "I don't know what to say." He knew how expensive and difficult to make this must be, now that the Dominion was gone.
"Say you'll take it," Daith told him. "The rest of these are for your disciples because the armour can only be bonded to one person at a time. Use them wisely. Save as many of our people as you can"
"I will," Asurmen said. "I vow it."
Author's Note: Craftworld Yme-Loc in canon is a Craftworld with strong thematic ties to Vaul, their symbol is literally his forge and they're famous for their weapon-smiths and artisans. For a Craftworld where the Priests of Vaul fled, I thought they were the best choice.
We don't know much about their history in canon, but for EQ I'm assuming that if Isha hadn't escaped, Yme-Loc and the Cults of Vault in particular would have been hit harder by the whispers of the shard of Khaine (which obviously doesn't like Vaul's followers at all) and the Orks.
But Isha's whisper gave the people of Yme-Loc clarity and self-control that they otherwise wouldn't have regained for a while (like most Craftworlds). And because Asurmen wasn't busy stopping all the Craftworlds from self-destructing under the influence of Khaine's shards, he was able to muster help for Yme-Loc. So the Cult of Vaul doesn't get pushed to the brink of extinction even if it's not in the greatest shape.