<Kholivaz> The Commorrite shrugged before exiting the hangar, looking over his shoulder at Astora as he left, a smirk on his lips. Who else did he need to see post-battle? He.. Had an idea, but wasn't sure how best to put it into words. Where is that Artisan? I have a task suitable to his specialty. He had spied him in the Halls of Isha earlier, around the decrepit one. Perhaps he would get to know the ancient who was in command of these Craftworlders while he was at it. That smirk took an ugly turn, a sneer as he imagined just how the old one would react to him.
<Farseer Aranethyr> "Greetings, Kholivaz", began the Seer. Kholivaz had found him wandering the Healer's sanctuary supported by his spear, speaking to the wounded. His voice gave off nothing, and his features were as stern as those of all the others - after all, a battle had just dusked. The Farseer removed a hand from the shoulder of a badly wounded Storm Guardian and turned to face the former Hellion.
<Aspect Warrior> Rharijem felt the melancholy in the air as he hovered through the empty halls. So much life was given, that the Anam was almost as underpopulated as Mymeara. Before he would never even bat an eye on such fact, though now he consumed the emotion in the air and was aware of his surrounding. The people that were there and those, that once were. Relatively slow and gentle, as he was in no hurry, he traversed the hallways until he arrived in a more social place. Where servants of different skills would produce and perform all sort of things. Robes, Jewelry, Bread, Pastry, Beverages... And that what Rharijem was looking for. At least most of the servants were left in peace or so it seemed; just because the Crimson Hunter did not know the former amount of servants. The young and quite exquisite looking girl with the curly midnight to royal blue hair stroke through her hair as she was staring at the legless, hovering Aspect Warrior. With a simple hand gesture she invited him - As if knowing what he wanted - to her chambers of her expertise... OOC: The artisan is still occupied with our Scorpion Exarch who did not post for quite a while? Or just assume he said what he wanted / botting?
"The Farseer has charged me with the creation of an Aspect Shrine to administer rites of war to our warriors. I require your help to do so; with banners and such, you understand," the Exarch said, "is it possible to gain your aid in this?" (Sorry for not posting much. I'm often quite busy and I have a sibling who uses my PC a lot. XD)
OOC: No worries mate! <Artisan> "Sure, should be not too much... Just make a drawing or a descriptive list of the specifics and I shall start working on it... Just have it send or deliver it yourself to the halls of Vaul. Anything else, Exarch?" Zryas-Vehd sounded obviously annoyed and even more obvious looked exhausted.
<Kholivaz> The former Hellion bristled slightly as the Farseer turned to regard him. Here was an example of everything the Tyrant had outlawed in Commorragh. To harbor a Psyker was to invite swift and brutal punishment at the hands of the Black Heart Kabal. And a Farseer like Anratheyr was the pinnacle of what a psyker was. "Decrepit One. How fares your old frame, after Nezorath nearly saw you vacate your ancient form?"
<Aspect Warrior> The service performed by the Servant took all in all an hour, mostly because Rharijem had to make sure what he wanted, it was his first time after all and he wanted it to be the only time. Now that he found himself, the true identity beyond what was destined to step into the footsteps of his father. The Cyan Wing would make his own decisions from now on and not live a pre-destined path. Once the procedures were completed, a new kind of Eldar hovered out. With a deep bow and as 'payment' though the Servant was just being playfully, they would sit one time together and have a relaxing chat, the foolish Mon'keigh would describe such chance of learning more about one another as 'date'. The old Rharijem would never have thought about such thing, but the new Rharijem was open to new experiences. Bright, flashy cyan hair laid flat along the face of Rharijem, flowing on the front along the side of his face to not blockade his right eye, transgressing steadily from Cyan to Teal at the tip - The colors of Mymeara. The hairstyle completely redone - much wilder and stormier than the prior short and efficiency. His left eye received a tattoo around - the rune of the Cursing Eye; the symbol of Mymeara as well as the presentation of Asuryan being capable of killing his foes just by staring at them. His eye lids were tattooed as well in such fashion that when he closed his right eye, the rune would become complete. It would be destined for those that endanger his loved ones, friends, family and last but not least - himself. On his back - covered by his clothes. Would be another tattoo that yet has to become revealed. But it was obvious, this man has changed and everyone around him shall learn that a new flame lit in his soul. Not one of rage, but one of vigor, courage, strength and protection. Burning in many facets and wide spectrum of colors and shapes, defining the man by his multitude. Rharijem headed to the Chambers of Isha to learn if his legs would be ready for attachment yet or not.
