OOC: seemed to me he was well... Conscious lol! Does everyone pass out here? still wondering what's up with rari lol! Ohreej was still in pain but bit his lips hard to suppress the screams of pain, pulling himself up he hurried in the midst of combat to the warlock - ignoring everything else around him. Once upon the outworld warlock he grabbed him with his right arm, dragging him into safety toward the bridge. Mereen saw the heroic attempt and protected his fellow pilot and anamnialocian with chainsword and shuriken pistol. Trykasil provided cover fire among with the newly arrived guardians from the bridge, allowing Ohreej to drag the warlock with another guardian into the bridge. They laid him gentle next to Aranethyr and the more than concerned artisan of Yme-Loc. Ohreej remained at the warlocks side, laying his head into the lap to give him support, it looked uncanny identical to how Zryas-Vehd had Aranethyr against himself. Though the artisan wasted not even a single milli-cycle toward Ohreej and Desek - as his own friend was more important to him, and despite his prior words Zryas-Vehd could easily feel that the farseer fought for his life.
((OoC: Can't have everyone sleeping on the job! When I wake up on the morning, so too shall Kholivaz! Light sleeper that a Commorrite must be out of necessity.))
OOC: My last post from 11:43pm my time btw was via smartphone - Couldn't sleep so I wrote that with mah phone! Hoped for more posts by now but oh well! The day is young!
<Kholivaz> "Muse-", he couldn't even finish the sentence, half of his face already swollen and purple beneath the blood. Still, a Commorrite was a Commorrite. A hunter was still a hunter, even injured. His eyes snapped open to the ceiling of the hangar and he quickly rose, a groan escaping his bleeding lips and causing another shockwave of pain to radiate out from his shattered cheek. In one hand he held Nezorath's severed head; fingers in the eye sockets of the former Scourge, and his newly claimed Power blade held in the opposing fist. His body was at odds with itself. Kholivaz hated to admit it but Nezorath had nearly done him in, left him dead on the hangar floor. The shock defense had done a number on his system that even still left him unbalanced, his right forearm was shredded along the top, and of course he couldn't forget his throbbing face and.. He couldn't even rub at the eye that the Scourge had spat in, so drenched was he in the not yet dried blood of Wracks. At the same time there was still pain a plenty for Commorrites such as he to act as sponges to, it strengthened his limbs, ensured that he was alive, awakened him to his own body. Awakened him to new levels of awareness for that injured body. Kholivaz cast his one-eyed gaze about the hangar, anger rising as he looked for another of his fellow Commorrites to take out his hurt ego upon.
OOC: In the interest of still contributing post...let's take a lil peek into Desek's mind Darkness. It enveloped all things. Sight is smothered and sounds demonized as all that emanates from within the shadow extinguishes hope. Sometimes a spec of light emerges from the sea of midnight to reignite the beacon of hope.....other times, it merely serves to illuminate a far more dire threat. Desek's eyes fluttered as he awoke, the blinding dark of his eye lids parting to reveal a dim flame lighting the room. Burning flesh stung his nose with it's revolting aroma forcing his mind to wakefulness and eyes to sharpen despite the gloom. He could hear them outside still, his brothers and sisters against the gibbering beast that had assailed Iyanden. The last few moments before his bout with unconsciousness flooded back to him as he recalled making his way down the stair way with several Storm Guardians in his retinue to head off an attempted assault on the firing position on the third floor. A Trygon had burst up through the basement floor of the habitation spire, destroying a valuable supply cache but even worse it had opened up a passage for more of their foe to flood in through. Dozens of Gaunts had climbed up from it's inky depths, a Lictor whom had guided in the Trygon to begin with hidden amongst them. A storm of shurikens and psychic fury met the flood, each a primal force of destruction in it's own right. They clashed for many minutes before a new force emerged: A Pyrovore. At first he had been shocked at the sight of what had initially been reported as an artillery beast, then when the long fleshy tube on it's back spurted out that first gout of flame he knew this was something new. A single plasma grenade, well placed and intended but ill fated due to ignorance, saw their end as the bottle neck they held became a death trap when the blast ignited the various juices in the oaf's digestive sacks causing a fiery blast to roll throughout the hall and consume them all; only a quickly conjured up ward spared the Warlock the same fate as his comrades. A series of razor like teeth broke through his armor at last and began to rip into his flesh, Desek hissed and swung his witch blade around to behead the Hormagaunt that had attempted to consume him. It appeared to of been the only survivor, fortunate and befuddling as the creature had ignored the fight outside, something he hadn't expect them capable of doing. Planting a palm to the railing of the stairwell he climbed to his feet, immediately turning to see if their firing position was still intact upstairs. Much to his relief it had though he was nearly shot by a shaken Guardian when he rounded the corner, several shuriken now embedded in his rune armor. Looking out through the windows from which their Weapons Platforms fired the Warlock watched with some sense of relief that things appeared to be going well for them. Out of the seven firing nest overlooking the roads below only two had fallen, those furthest back targeted by sustained barrages of spore mines, though his relief was short lived as that barrage was creeping steadily closer to their position. Something inside of him was sparked when he saw the body of the Trygon was currently blocking off the entrance to one of the buildings, protecting another firing nest from a swarm of Hormagaunts trying to get inside so desperately, he quickly realized this was pride when he noted the wounds were created by Reaper Launchers. His former shrine was scattered amongst the various positions, providing heavy fire power to augment each grouping of Guardians and Weapons Platforms making their stand. A sudden stream of fire from one such Aspect Warrior drew his attention and even he couldn't suppress something of a grin of grim satisfaction as a trio of Tyranid commanders, Warriors they were called, burst apart and the horde around them went into a mad frenzy. Termgaunts spread out and began to flee toward darkened corners where they might be safe against fire and could ambush passerby, the Hormagaunts through themselves at anything in reach even each other when they found their Eldar targets too far off. It was a wondrous sight that-- "What in Khaine's name is that? " A nearby Guardian uttered as a bellowing shriek filled the air. One of the habitation spires collapsed taking out the entirety of it's occupants as they were crushed beneath crumbling wraithbone; in that instant Desek like the rest of Iyanden was caught surprised and flat footed by a new foe. A carnifex shouldered it's way through the rubble and set out on a rampage down the street. Desek could only watch in mute horror as the Weapons platforms and Reapers attempted to put such a monstrosity down, it's talons carving through air as readily as it did flesh occasionally punctuated by a horrendous scream that heralded a fresh blast of bio-lasma. Without the Hive Mind to guide it the creature was down to it's basest instincts and it craved destruction and death, truly the face of a Destroyer. It was in those opening moments that Desek sprung from the window after ordering his team to pull back with the rest whom were trying to prepare a secondary firing line. Skipping down a ramp of Tyranid corpses stacked up to the third story window he lent his own might to the Reapers whom were trying to cover the retreat of their civilian warrior kin. It was not their day to win. Shadow had enveloped his vision and in a moment the Warlock found himself brutally aware that this was no war but a memory to be relived, the fog parted to reveal the aftermath scene which he lingered over in his own darkened shroud like that of his Executioner. The Carnifex had collapsed, the crushed bodies of shredded Reapers and Guardians beneath it, only Desek, the Shrines Exarch and a pair of Aspect Warriors had survived to make it back the second line with those they had covered. With mute horror Desek could only inwardly rage as he knew what came next. From within the clouds of Tyranid spores choking their Craftworld's skies a swarm of Gargoyles lead by Shrikes and Harpies descended upon them, catching his kin off guard as they were sighted in on an approaching horde on the ground. It was a slaughter that only so few of them could escape from, without the protective cover of the spires...if only that Carnifex hadn't come through. It wouldn't be the first time the living siege engines scarred him, but it was perhaps the most memorable... Within the world that belonged to the waking and embattled of the Cruiser Desek's form remained unresponsive, only the paling of flesh and a deep shiver signed that he still yet lived with that weak pulse of his heart. OOC: Another big long post horray~ Hope this wasn't too jarringly out of place.
<Mereen & Trykasil> "Mereen! That one is still moving!" Trykasil yelled, pointing at a Storm Guardian on the floor who started to get up, before coming out of cover once more - Opening fire upon the remaining Comorrites to cover his comrade-in-arms and brother of Anamnialoc. The hatred against those who took his twin was overwhelming pity, remorse and mercy. All they deserved was death! And death they shall gain! By all fallen and still roaming deities of the Eldar! By all they have taken within this assault! For what they have done to Aranethyr! Mereen moved swift and low through the covering fire of his brother, sprinting when he could, rolling when needed. Thankfully the attacking Striking Scorpions pushed the enemy further back, making him a little concern and no true target to them. Combined with Trykasils and the other guardians' fire, he was almost certain that he was unnoticed. Finally he made it to the side of the Storm Guardian who held a head of a Comorrite in his hands. This one was truly a hero of Aranethyrs forces! Being this injured and still fighting on, just like Crimson Lead, an inspiration and idol to all fellow warriors. "Let me...." Mereen started, just now seeing the face of a Comorite instead of a fellow Craftworlder. He held the sword ready and the pistol aimed at him. "W-What does a Co-co-comorrite do in an armor of Ana-ana-anamnialoc?! An in-intr-intruder?!" The guardians hands were shaking and his voice rather high from the sudden fear and mixed emotions. What if more of the guardians around him were truly Commorrites and this all is some sort of plot?! Killing most, then letting the survivors be like Anamnialocians but they truly would be Comorrites just to kill even more of them later on?! Those sort of thoughts dominated Mereens mind, clouding him with fears of all sort. OOC: Does Kholivaz have helmet on or not? ; If he doesn't pls let me know so I can make edits! Edited!
<Kholivaz> The Commorrite turned towards the Craftworlder shakily, shaking partially from pain and partially from rage as the sight of one of the cousins he fought for daring to point a weapon at him. "C-calm.. Your..", Kholivaz snarled before spitting out another wad of blood from his swollen mouth, ropes of it sticking to the still opened metal fangs covering his jaw. "Feeble.. Mind, co-cousin!" He raised the head of the dead Scourge as explanation, he wouldn't be able to speak clearly until under the care of a healer. Yet another worry to tug at his addled mind. This one looks as bright as an Ur-ghul, I doubt they will take kindly to me pointing a weapon back at one of their kind.
