<Kholivaz> The Storm Guardian stopped in his tracks next to Trykasil, surprise slowing his steps. It wasn't necessarily shock, death couldn't shock the former Hellion. So many gang members plucked from the skies of the Middle Darkness, or turned traitor to another gang, all ultimately dying in one of the myriad horrific fashions that was the day-to-day basis of life in Commorragh. Still, Tyrelhien and Astora had been as close to companions, even almost trusted.. friends? as he could consider he had aboard. Kholivaz had no idea how one handled this kind of news, or responded. Thankfully the decision was for the most part taken from him, only able to speak one word sentences. "Alive. Meet.. Later?"
OOC: It did get a little confusing there for a little bit with the two Reapers and two parties and such
<Minnaloushe the Intemperate> "Personally... Be well, brother." The Saim-Hannian opened the hatch. Outside tgere were - visibly - twelve Kroot a the ready, and it seemed one stood before all. "Warrior might," started the alien in its language.
<Astora> "Alive," she echoed. "Meet later." The Exodite's voice was slow and focused. Sounds of battle came forth with her sound. (OOC: Sorry for short posts. Forgot my charger and am now on my phone... I'm about to drive all the way to the other state to get it.)
<Mereen & Trykasil> Trykasil ignored the Comorrite for now as the Anams watchers and other Guardians moved onward to finish the enemy. Mereen on the other hand remained near Kholivaz. "You should... Sit down... Heal." he suggested, sighing strong as the tension was tearing him apart. Fear, anger, sadness. It all summed up in the Guardians soul, being not protected by the guarding coat of Khaine like the Aspect Warriors, not as harsh as Trykasil seemed to have become... He was soft. The Male rushed forward, spitting shurikens through his rifle almost as skilled as an Aspect Warrior - his aim guided by the bloodlust of Khaine. Desiring to eliminate an every Comorrite for what they have brought upon him and his family! Not only did his sister die, but also he broke the promise to his parents. Alas - It was all the Comorrites fault! And they would pay with the only currency Khaela Mensha Khaine knew - Blood.
Even as injured and disoriented as the Commorrite was, he could still draw some.joy from the Guardian who had elected to stay near. He said nothing as he leaned back against the wall, very clearly not sitting despite whatever discomfort that his refusal might bring. From within that blood drenched face, the murderous pinpricks of the dark kin simply stared at the Guardian. Judging. ((OoC: aaaaand back to work!))
<Cair> The Reaper strides confidently out of the Serpent, his full height approaching that of the biggest Kroot Carnivore, and he stops moving about 5 feet away from the Kroot. OOC: Should I wait for you to finish what that Kroot was saying? Wouldn't want to interrupt him and accidentally offend him.
OOC: I think that was all the Kroot was saying, his way of 'hi'. <Mereen> The Guardian stared at the Comorrite, obviously uncomfortable as he constantly shifted from right to left, holding his weapons nervously. He was no person of war so much... At least not this close. And the irritation from his 'infiltration' was still.... Too irritating. OOC: I finish the battles on the Anam.; but if anyone engaged (read as in: Nevan) wants to take some credit / make some battle post, feel free to add / retcon to it <Trykasil> Among with the other Guardians and Striking Scorpions the last few Comorrites were slain - Without prisoners taken. Shurikens, blades - even bare physical attacks took the enemy apart. Limbs, heads, blood splattered all over the hangar floors. In the distance the last Frigate of the Comorrghan Raiders could be seen to turn away and flee, but it was far too late. It was obliterated by another salvo of the Anam Alqethir, the explosion in the distance was first a red-orange fireball, followed by the overcharged plasma generators that detonated and with the prior explosions colors blending into a green-blue nova. It was a beautiful kind of destruction, almost art - like fireworks. The attackers were denied their victory but the Anam had massive losses. Friends, brothers, sisters, cousins, uncles, nieces, nephews, aunts, lovers and spouses. All sort of relationships were broken by death. Some Guardians mourned, others started collecting the tears of Isha. Trykasil simply stood there, ice-cold, there was no reason for mourning. Only hatred. His beloved sister was gone! Her soulstone perhaps will never be retrieved! And all this because of these Commorrites. The Guardian stomped a decapitated cousin, pulping its flesh and bones into nothing but a puddle and dust. Nobody wanted even to comfort him, for usually it would had been his twin sister to do so. Mereen and Ohreej both in the distance, taking care of their business. Mereen watched over the Dark Eldar. Ohreej over the unconscious Warlock. <Ohreej & Zryas-Vehd> "Just don't die... The Anam is safe and will be revitalized, just like yourself... Just give the healers some time to come, Aranethyr. But don't you dare join Ynnead just yet. Like you said - This is not your grave." During the entire attack and even now, the artisan kept talking to his friend, keeping the connection to the material world alive, reminding his mind and body that there was still too much clinging on him - Things beyond duty. Friendship. Ohreej on the other hand simply caressed Desek gentle, trying to make it comfortable for the passed out brother - feeling the pain of his dream. @Sophiia ... Any Rari input or should I just continue on with him or what? XD
