Kholivaz hadn't stood idly by to hope that the Farseer's mental might proved enough to fell the foul Scourge. No, the moment that Nezorath had been distracted, the crafty Commorrite had started moving once again, always moving; a wonder he never slipped on the copious amounts of blood that now coated the chamber, Craftworlder and Commorrite together. He had begun cutting a path back to within leaping distance of his now laughing kin. He gave no thoughts of the Farseer, eyes always on his hated foe. The Hellion became airborne once again, legs pumping, bunching, building in strength, and ultimately launching him skyward towards the Scourge who was even now reloading. His fusion pistol had snuck back into his bandolier, the Commorrite unwilling to go back on his word. Your skull will hang from my new board, vermin! Beak and all! So instead a pair of knives flying towards Nezorath's wings, aiming to ground the bastard even as his roar of triumph was drowned out by a screaming chainsaber.
Kara'shanwe had not known what to expect. As she settled down on the other side of the small fire, Visethianne took up the gauntlet. As he recited - lived out - the poem of loss and longing, she felt the painful nature of the experience digging sharp little claws into her chest. It was so personal; what could she say? How could she say nothing? She wanted to go and comfort him. At the same time, she felt instinctively that this would not be the right thing to do. She felt that it was wrong to leave him alone with his private pain but she could think of nothing to offer that could possibly help. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she couldn't hide her empathy. Neither could she articulately express it. For the moment Kara'shanwe sat frozen, waiting to see if the performance had a coda, immobilsed by her rushing thoughts and swirling emotions.
((OoC: The only race to match the Eldar and their kin for long-windedness doesn't even have lungs. Silly Necron. ))
<Visethianne the Poet> The Avenger sighed and dropped his hand as if it gave up on its quest to reach the zenith. It fell lifeless on his chest. "She is everything to me," he ventured - someone had to break the silence. "Yet she is nothing but an ideal - a phantom. Someone I do not yet know but that keeps me forward through adversity. She is my reason." "How about you, corsair? Did you leave anyone's bed colder with your absence?" He asked, unwilling to let the silence settle.
<Artisan> "Aranethyr..." Zryas-Vehd whispered to himself, clenching his fists. He better hold onto his life force, he wanted to help, but he was an Artisan... Not a warrior, not a guardian, not a man who would deny a given order. "Can anyone at least retrieve him?!" The man demanded to know from the bridge crew, could not anyone save his old friend who brought him upon this suicide mission?! Alas the helplessness consumed him from within - He knew his duty. The Bonesinger and others would not be capable of doing what he can and that is why Aranethyr wanted... Needed him safe. But who would lead them in his stead? Certainly not himself. Desek the Warlock? Perhaps. The Dire Avenger - Too troubled. The other Warriors and Corsairs were out of question, though whomever would replace him, the leader would be better a good one - The Mon'keigh otherwise could start to sabotage them and break free once they learn Aranethyr is dead, although lying to deceive them would not help because once they learn the truth they would try even harder to break free from the betrayal and it would be a thing Mon'keigh would do. The elder Artisan sighed, hoping that Aranethyr would survive - As friend, as leader, as hope and as future for this operation. <Ishas Shield> Ishas shield moved forward to approach the floating Crimson Hunter. Trykasil moved in front of the Wind Wing to pull it toward the Anam Alqethir, bringing it to safety. Each craft was important to be returned, repaired and reused for the losses they had today. An entire Darkstar squadron, a Nightshade... His twin-swister... The male Eldar clenched his fists as he started to pull the Cyan Wing craft toward the Anam. The device may looked to the foolish like a simple rope, but it was more than that, it was wraithbone which could also transfer energy, signals, commands and more between the crafts - Usually used when Life Support fails but the Pilot still lives. Mereen in the meanwhile navigated with Ohreej to each take one of the Eldar. Mereen would take Rharijem, Ohreej the Guardian Pilot, former designation Crimson Three. Though the Guardian himself knew her better as Leyna Iubiden. Both got known into each other during the training flights and occasional conversations when they met on the Anam, she was a nice and pretty girl, but just a friend. It was sad to lose someone you liked, though Ohreej was not in rage when he saw her soulstone prevailed, she would live on in the Infinity Circuit and her soul would always belong to Ynnead and not She Who Thirsts - that knowledge alone soothed him. Although it seemed Rharijem was not letting of the dead Eldar Guardian. "Ohreej, take them both. Your Nightshade has more space than my Darkstar." Mereen merely instructed and without protest it was done. If the Nigtshade Pilot would have to fight he would be in trouble - Barely capable of seeing beyond his cockpit and reaching his consoles as the cockpit was never built for two or even three Eldar! Certainly they only did fit because half their bodies were missing... "Tell me that you live, Minna." Rharijem whispered to himself and Ohreej did not know what to do, remaining silent as the remnants of Ishas shield headed for a secondary hangar, close to the bridge where no enemy landers had arrived since they all seemed to have gone for the main hangars. Though it was understandable why their Dark Kin has not aimed for the secondary hangars. It was empty with no crafts, as it was more of a visitors bay, and the Wraithbone gates were closed. It was too much of work to even get inside to even profit of it. The question now rather was if any enemy has been waiting here... OOC: I just now remembered how Rharijems deployment kinda was like Star Wars Episode 1, lol.
OOC: Sorry for the absence, its been meeting after meeting here but classes finally started so I should be able to post more! Also, Jori, Cair is currently co-piloting with Minna in the Serpent, and not at the campsite with everybody else. Fantastic Roleplaying btw! I've been following it on my phone, absolutely entrancing. <Cair> "Good night Minna." The Reaper returns his attention to the view in front of him, the forest illuminated by the light of the nearby moons. Cair becomes enraptured by the seem in front of him, as the local birds take to the air and begin a spectacular mating display for each other. It seemed as if the birds had a sort of group rating ritual, where each group would flock in the air and perform a dazzling dance utilizing the moon's reflection off of their feathers to create amazing displays of color to impress the other groups. Which group succeeded the Reaper was not to know, for he fell asleep in his seat after a couple hours of watching the birds. <Amriel> The Corsair, having finished the bedding and now making the tea, quickly brushed away a tear that had formed during the Avenger's poem. All that could be heard in the silence that followed was the crunching of the leaves that the Corsair was using to make the tea, the leaves were a gift from his father when he left Ulthwe. Though they will not replace the sense of purpose granted by following your path, they will keep you warm when the nights turn cold. "No, I'm afraid not, my skill at a jetbike is only matched by two things in my life: the enjoyment I get from leading a warhost into battle, and my lack of skill at dealing with the fairer sex. I can successfully lead a charge through space onto a Rogue Trader's capital ship from a jetbike without any casualties, but get a date with someone? Practically impossible for this Corsair. And I was not one for the more casual relationships found in Corsair fleets. Although your poem has made me realize something. I left my Craftworld to discover what life was like, because it certainly did not seem to be following a set Path my entire life, I wanted to live life to the utmost, because that's what I thought life was about. I thought it was about having as many experiences as possible, see as much of the world as possible. Perhaps what was missing was not the experiences themselves but someone to share them with. If not a lover then with close friends, I joined on with the Farseer's mission because I was tired of life as a Corsair, I enjoyed riding and leading from the front, nothing comes close to that thrill, but still something was missing, I have not yet thought about what to do after we are done here." The Corsair then extends a cup of tea towards the Avenger.
(OOC: Man, that was beautiful too. You know what, crew? We should make a writer's guild. All of you generate an impressive content, and I would like to transfer that to perhaps other games or universes. I've not in mind an in-game guild for the oncoming Eternal Crusade, but something more - beyond. An Omni-guild of RP without hierarchy or anything - just plain old letters. What do you guys think? We could set us a webpage to display independent works, RP other universes, etc. 200th pageniversary. Congrats, crew of the Anam.)
