<Visethianne the Poet> Standing, countless hours, the solace of the night. The infinite peace that could be shattered just with the snapping of a branch. Visethianne stood like he would at the Anam, rifle in hand and aim-assist at the ready. The strange device upon his shoulder scanned by duplicate where his eyes saw only a barrier of dark. His legs moved, carrying his shadow left and right, creating a smooth rhythm of earth against his feet that he hoped would block out the mysterious and alien sounds for his companions and replace them for something familiar and soothing - something that didn't steal away their night. The fire sparked, a rebellious coal. It drew the Avenger's eyes from the forest back to the camp behind him, where a streak of purple caught his eye... Yes, that Aspect of Khaine was also Liss Kara'shanwe. It had surprised him to hear her call him "Visethka", specially through the distorted voice effect their helmets created. Now to look at her, frailty sleeping in the cocoon of a deadly spider. There was verse in such contrast. Sometime, Visethianne mused, there will come the cycle. For now the Avenger was happy to watch over their kin in this the apex of all protection - an armed vigil presiding over the night while the others rest in the wilds. He imagined the primitive races, and wondered if this is how guards were born in every case. The Avenger cleared his throat and whispered. "Cair, Liss Aetherios. Report." "We'll be at your position before Sunrise, Visethianne. Then we'll head for the Kroot tribe and give those mon-keigh a taste of their local tribes," responded the voice. Minnaloushe still had fire in her veins after so many hours awake, it seemed.
<Architect> As the Exarch approached and the Crimson Hunter thanked him, the Farseer tried to sit on the grav-bed. His arms shook at the effort, and his still well-built abdomen began to gain a purple tint. "Well met, Ex-" the Seer gritted his teeth. "Exarch. You and your Scorpions arrived just in time." Farseer Aranethyr also didn't seem to care to acknowledge Rharijem's thanks. The pilot had fought well without the Exarch in him clouding his judgment - that was much more than the Seer could have ever hope for.
(OOC: Err... Like what? "Yes, sir"?) <Architect> In time, six Eldar appeared in the horizon. Amidst them were two Healers, and they looked ready to moved the injured.
(OOC: Also, since I'm too lazy to go to the inbox, I'll get the guild site up and running by tomorrow - if they give me back my card... I apparently abandoned it at the bank. I already have several designs in my mind for the site of the Empyrean Crucible. Also, do you realize our initials are the same as those of the site that brought our pens together? EC? Nice detail right there.)
OOC: Tzeentch would say: "Just as Planned" so we are the EC that started in the EC Forum.... lololol (easy to remember) <Aspect Warrior> Rharijem simply looked and listened to the Farseer and the Exarch. A shudder overcame him, realizing an Exarch was there... Something he almost became. the Crimson Hunter leaned slowly back and turned with his face away, a tear running down his cheek, the memories of his vision, his dream, his trance... Or whatever it was manifesting strongly in his inner eye. <Artisan> Zryas-Vehd sighed softly as he was done and simply sat down in one of the chairs behind the Podium. The old man was exhausted, his heart pounding from all the emotions and thoughts of which he just spoke. It was so much of a burden, to care, love and think about all those around one. A reason why he had gone back to Yme-Loc to study Vauls practices and focus on nothing but his skills... Whenever he was around Aranethyr it seemed the emotions simply besieged him non-stop. The words that made him come here, convinced him to join him once more, echoing in his head ever since his foot touched the inside of the Anam - Pursuing him even in his dreams occasionally.
(OOC: Nice, Uriel.) <Architect> The few Eldar that had gathered for the Artisan's speech began scattering, like a drop of water bleeding out, evaporating slowly. The Eldar became a blur, a shadow. The Anam Alqethyr seemed to have lost too many men, and from then on it would be a ghost ship. A friendly face knelt by the Artisan's side - it was Esthrella, the gardener. "Well said, Kais Vehd," she began. A haunted smile arrested her lips. "I know many would have been quick to throw the few non-craftworlders out the airlock would it not have been for your speech. The fire in our hearts is burning - now against each other, I'm afraid."
OOC:Sarcasm dosent suit you...Architect. In the midst of the Storm six lifeforms...Eldar moved like they were walking upon a tranquil plane,untouched by the chaotic weather in the biosphere. "Healers!"yelled Zeth..."We need healers.We have four injured in the med pods that two Guardians,my companion and i extracted from the med bay.They are about a hundred meters down the direction from whence i came from."yelled Zeth sparing his left arm to point out the direction. One of the medics mumbled something and they moved pass him nodding their heads in agreement. That weight is off my back...lets press on to the real matter at hand that i am here for. thought Zeth with a steely conviction in his eye. He fought the winds and low visibility until he came before a familiar structure.He grinned...duststorm being not great hindrance to his augmented eyesight.He approached the shrine...dots of light suffused him once again...but no harm was done to him.The defensive mechanism knew he came here only for answers.He approached the shrine...the duststorm as if avoiding this place...or this is the eye of the storm.He extended his open palm of his left hand and touched the crystaline white structure of the shrine. "Eldar-dead i seek answers.I am guided here by a great burden of divine purpose!Shall i ask my questions or am i wasting time here?"said Zeth as he felt warm tingling in his palm. PS:Empyrean Scriptorium is a better name! :3
OOC: Which part or both? ^^ Thanks either way! <Artisan> The Artisan nodded slowly in agreement, having known she was there, but not expected she would approach him. Though the topic she was approaching was unpleasant to his mind. "I hope you have not lost someone close to yourself?" Unintentionally he stroke her cheek, his eyes getting watery, his thumb removing some of her hair that he may look better into her eyes.
<Mereen, Trykasil & Ohreej> The three Guardians eventually met inevitable in the cantina, taking a drink together on the fallen sister of Trykasil and the others that bravely died to allow them to live on. "I do not know how you feel, my friends but... I just feel hatred against all of them. I will heed the words of Aranethyrs friend... But still, my emotions remain." Trykasil opened as he placed his glass on the table and stared into it's clear being. Both placed a hand on each shoulder of him. "We feel alike, but do not let it succumb you, it will only lead... To... You know." Ohreej felt uneasy saying it out, but Mereen knew exactly and spoke of what the Eldar avoided a lot. "Or it will lead to the Path of Damnation." Trykasil sighed and nodded to break their words, he ignored what they said but his gestures were enough to bring them off the topic. "Just look forward and live on as good as you can for your sister, she would not want you to become anything like it." Mereen added, on which Trykasil just stood up and went away. The former squadron leader wanted to go after him, but Ohreej held his lower arm. "Give him time. He lives in the moment, Trykasil will calm down eventually. It was not just his sister, but twin-sister who died. We do not know how it feels, we can only imagine." Mereen let a deep breath of disappointment out and sat down again. "You are quite wise for one of your age and path." The older one said and finished his drink, both looking into each others eyes. <Trykasil> The man went to the armory where he donned a spare armor of the Mymearan Crimson Hunter, one that was just recently made by the Artisan who made one spare armor with the help of the Bonesinger of each Aspect Warrior during their first deployment - Just in case they would get damaged or required a new set for any reason. The Guardian felt good in it, smirking as the helmet went over his head. Now it was time to master a Nightshade and then he would be on the path of vengeance, on the path to become a true Aspect Warrior, one who would have no remorse and no mercy, no emotion but hatred! Hatred amplified so strong through Khaine to unleash the true wrath his heart bore upon all Comorrites! Those that took her twin! They all will bleed and burn in the endless void! As long as a single Comorrite lived, his goal would be incomplete. Just as he was on the way to the Hangar he remembered.... There were some among them.... A Shuriken Pistol was grabbed, but where would he find him? Wait.... The Artisan! He said the farseer shares a room with him! The man smirked and marched off to start his life goal.
