<Architect> As the Scorpions moved like shadows across the barely-standing crystal bridge, their leader, Exarch Antadriel, could see the hangars below - a morbid killing ground where the Anamnialocii's stand was still echoing violently. There were Dark Eldar boarding crafts sticking through the membrane-like void-shield like painful-looking thorns through a skin both fair and delicate. There were Dark Eldar still coming out of these vessels, and the Exarch could decide to take the grav-lift down to the enemy and cut off their reinforcements or continue along the bridge and through the hallways, stalking their fallen kindred from overhead to find out where the surviving crew of the Anam was holding out and aid the survivors.
<Architect> Silence, flickering lights and violent echoes. Those still in the fallen Chambers of Isha worked fast to detach the Healing pods to extract them through the vent. The female Guardian's name was Xerah-El, the male was Zonid. The human by the name of Evelyn had left with the wounded that could still walk. Four pods were still left when a bright light threatened to cut through the wall by the side of the entryway the Magos had collapsed - it was the denizens of the Dark City, making their own pathway into the chambers. They were not going to leave without prized Eldar slaves, and the Chambers of Isha was the right place to look for them. "Kais Zeth!" Called Xerah-El. "They're coming through!"
<Nezorath the Scourge> "You've gone soft, brother," the Scourge spat - literally - into the Storm Guardian's eye, making him stumble backwards and ripping out some of Nezorath's neck skin in the process. No real damage was done. This duel of mere brutal strength promised to be the end - only one of them was going to walk out alive. No more electric attacks were surging, only minor discharges - it seemed Nezorath's trinket only worked once. The winged man roared in agony and elation as yet another shot from his backpack streamed chemicals into his veins, making him ever-stronger. One hesitation and Nezorath would slice across Kholivaz's, cutting him in half. One false movement, and the Helllion would bite through the Scourge's aorta.
OOC: Not sure if it was clear in my post but when the Executioner died it did that last psychic scream attack/Embolden roar throughout the ship, not sure if that was missed or just too much. Just wanted to see if that was going to have any effect on Nezorath or the guys down in the Chambers of Isha. Don't mean to be a bother, sorry!
<Visethianne the Poet> Making a mockery of a wounded face, the Avenger laughed again - this time to Liriasol's particular humour. Laughter died out naturally, like his breath in the night air. He looked around, the scene warm and peculiar, even though their Reaper was on watch and they were suited for battle. Khaine protects when his spirit and teachings are used right, he mused. There was something delicate in Kara'shanwe's features, however, that called to his eyes as a white cloud came out of her lips. He took a sip of the Ulthwéian tea and wondered for a moment the taste of her lips before he realized what he was thinking of. Yes, he would know the taste of a woman - he just had to survive long enough to see a craftworld again.
(OOC: You can choose either Embolden or psy attack in one turn, not both. You OP Warlock. I'll edit accordingly.)
(OOC: Ooohh hard choice, final attack for this combat unless it last for a few days in character. xD I'll go Embolden, seems more fitting. Light from darkness and hope from despair after the creature disperses~ Thanks a ton!)
<Watchers of the Anam> The remaining six Guardians of Desek's retinue made a defensive perimeter around the Warlock, joined by Astora, who knelt by the man's side and removed his helmet. "Desek from Iyanden, do you hear me?" She demanded. Her voice came like from the bottom of a well to the exhausted Warlock -everything was a haze. "Vital signs are present, but faint," called out another voice. "Hang on, we're going to get you out of this one alive!" "Incoming!" "We are the watchers of the Anam!" The voices died as well as the hum of shurikens. All was darkness from then on.
<Kholivaz> The Hellion couldn't see in one eye, but he still knew the danger as the Scourge's sword arm was relentlessly getting closer to seeing Kholivaz impaled through the torso, the danger on his blind side driving him to desperation. He gurgled a response around the wad of flesh and blood in his mouth, the meaning lost but the venom in the words still easily heard. He relinquished his crushing embrace and caught a fist that felt like a sledgehammer across his face, cheekbone fracturing to bits. Hidden on the inside of his bandolier were his last three knives. Moving as quickly as his nimble, yet pain-wracked fingers could, Kholivaz grabbed his prized knife and the one made by Zryas-Vehd. The powerful paralytic and the simple poison known as The Shrieks dripped from the knives as he drove them towards Nezorath's armpit, even as the Scourge cocked back to turn his already shattered cheekbone to dust. ((OoC: Leaving the conclusion to this one in your hands, dear Architect!))
<Architect> The two dark figures in the middle of the bloody waltz came to a halt - frozen in the apex of their deadly dance. Eyes met, Scourge's and Hellion's, and none of them in their drugged adrenaline-rushed bloodless blurs understood what had been the result. One knee faltered for Kholivaz, and the Scourge laughed as much as he could in his breathlessness... Before tumbling down - dead, to the side of the victor.
