Wow, the 27th got here fast. Gonna need someway to judge which vote goes forward unless we get another vote in the next hour.
Coryphaus could feel the glare Telemachus was cherishing him with, ++How dare you say such things in front of a mortal++ The words slithered out in hissing Nostraman, and a small bow of Coryphaus’ head showed he had gone too far with his mockery. “Now, remove this toxin so I might deal with the xenos scum,” Telemachus snarled, struggling to a seated position. “Of course, Brother,” Coryphaus whispered, focusing his hand above the pus-spurting wounds. A combination of pus, toxin, and brackish blood flowed from the wounds – eliciting a hiss of pain from Telemachus before the substances condensed into a solid within the palm of Coryphaus’ gauntlet. “I’m impressed you didn’t manage to kill me,” Telemachus spat, rising to his feet and marching off down the corridor. “Now hurry up, I want to engage with the leader of these foul creatures.” Coryphaus rose smoothly to his feet, turning to look at Nihil, “Come along, boy, and be quiet about it. You’ll get to see your new master at work.” Nihil just nodded his head, staggering along behind Coryphaus and the stilly slightly swaying form of Telemachus. The boy’s entire boy shuddering with revulsion as his bare feet waded through the mess of viscera that was that had been left of nearly twenty Dark Eldar. Coryphaus and Nihil soon caught up with Telemachus, the Night Lord Captain not acknowledging their presence as they descended into pitch blackness. Nihil bit back a whimper of fear, a large hand being placed on his shoulder to instill a feeling of utter calmness through his body. He smiled slightly, grateful for the kindness of his apparent master. “That should shut the whelp up,” Coryphaus said over the private vox. “Can’t have his mortal paranoia and fear getting the best of him and ruining our assault.” Coryphaus ran his hand down to the plasma pistol maglocked to his thigh. “Butcher’s work, Telemachus? Or shall I employ my witchcraft?” Telemachus was smiling as he locked his bolt pistol to his thigh; drawing the two weapons he so enjoyed using. One was a blade of black iron, the hilt stylized to look like flared batwings – the pommel ending in a jagged hook of crimson metal. The other was a long knife, one edge mono thin, the other serrated with teeth. Mortis Lux ignited with a small crackle of energy, highlighting Telemachus’ armoured features briefly before it dulled down to nothing. “Both, sorcerer – we can’t let these pathetic freaks have a fighting chance, can we?” Coryphaus smirked, bowing at the waist before walking forward through the darkness. Behind him trailed Telemachus and the eleven Night Lords that formed their Claw. The dregs of a force, a miniscule warband that once sailed the stars in a great Legion… Coryphaus let these thoughts simmer inside of him as he walked, lights flickered and failed – dying as he strode through the long hallways of the space station. An impenetrable force of darkness fell, across the entire vox one word was whispered – a single sound that at the same turn spoke volumes about these thirteen killers. “Preysight.” The vox was silent after that, each warrior going over their own ways to prepare for battle. Coryphaus was grateful for it, glad that they had gathered to their banner the silent and introspective. Those who could be considered the most or least unhinged. It was always quiet before a battle, always allowing for the joy of bloodshed to stew and build up before release. Heat signatures appeared across Telemachus’ vision. A targeting reticule flickering over each one and slowly tracking numbers. “Forty-seven,” the voice was a silent, monotone whisper. Coryphaus blinked as his number reached that three seconds later. “Body heat rising on targets. They know their fellow warriors failed.” It was Iaxus speaking, the Night Lord having stilled at the same time as the rest – the heightened senses and faster processing power of his helmet having allowed for him to assess the situation quicker. “Well-spotted, Iaxus. Are you planning on lurking at the back with the mortal? Or are you finally going to get your claws red?” Hapshan rasped across the vox, the larger-than-average brute of a warrior having turned his head to regard the slighter form of his brother. “If I did that, I wouldn’t have a clear target on the back of your skull,” Iaxus replied smoothly – part banter and part truth. Hapshan just laughed at the remark, an ugly sound. “Quiet, both of you. Coryphaus, any thoughts before I give the order?”Telemachus was pure bloody business now. He still grated from earlier, but he was enough of a soldier to put those minor hatreds aside when it came time for fun. (( Choices: A) Go in and trust to the failing light and the tactics of their Legion. B) Unleash some form of sorcerous attack to confuse the Dark Eldar. C) Have Iaxus pick off any targets that look high priority before going in. Voting will close May 30th at 1 pm EST! Sorry this took a bit longer than normal to be posted! ))
