When Nurrahk spoke the Space Marines tensed, waiting for Sabios´answer. The captain looked at their counterparts and tried to estimate who would win a fight. This was a fruitless thought as no matter who would have won the fight, would not win anything else. Compliance with the harsh request would probably be the best course of action, but he still pondered, why it was so difficult to do what he was told. He had knelt before Astartes and humans as well and it was just an empty gesture, especially considering the history of his legion, but the way the order was uttered rubbed him the wrong way. He was about to lower himself to one knee as a black orb appeared in one of the Necrons hands. His helmet clicked as Sabios changed between the different modi of his visor to find out what the Necron was up to, but it just seemed like an ordinary ball of metal. Even with maximum magnification none of the nanobots, he had been warned about in the briefing, was visible. To his suprise the other Necron conciliated between the two groups. This was rather unusual from what he had expected. Then the Necrons started talking at each other in their raspy voice and Sabios wished he would understand what words were exchanged. At least it gave him an excuse to not lower himself and the reputation of his Father. As the moderate Necron seemed to win the argument, Sabios made the sign of the Aquilla and bid them farewell. "Thank you for your time. We will see you in orbit. Then we will discuss this matter further. There will be time to find the correct protocol for our next meeting." With that six of the other legionaires lifted the bound Necrons and attempted to move.
Nurrahk allowed the Phaeron to speak his bit and when all was said and done, the astartes made their leave. The Phaeron of Rahzem watched them leave, his gaze fixated upon them. " Do not slight me again, Okantakht. " Nurrahk trusted that single utterance was able to convey the true power of that threat. With the threats dispensed, Nurrahk turned from the Marines and addressed the rest of his people. " My court will contain this infection. Prepare for departure. " Nurrahk delivered both fact and falsehood when he spoke. His court, though ruthless among one another, was ultimately loyal to him. They would do as they were told and any power plays would be made in a way that wouldn't jeopardize that order. All of that said, Nurrahk was lying when said he was sure he could contain the flayed ones. They operated in a dimension separate from their own and, even with the aid of a rather large amount of crypteks, they would more than likely continue to penetrate this dimension. Honor demanded that Nurrahk pursue an end to this affliction, wherever it may lie. If that entailed following some apes into the void, so be it. By the Phaerons side would be both a Cryptek and a Lychguard. Rahk'Aterom, the Cryptek, was the chief Cryptek in Nurrahks employ. He was a kindred spirit to Nurrahk as both saw the Crypteks experiments as vital for the Dynasties continued survival. The Lychguard, Dra'Keth, was blessed with an able body much like the other Lychguard. He had been Nurrahks protector before the Bio-transference and held great respect in the confines of the royal court. Dra'Keth was also among the best warriors in all of Rahmzen. The guards skill was so great that said skill is considered one of the few reasons the nobility stay in line. Ready to dispense with matters, Nurrahk strode off. He wouldn't wait for their answers and it was well within their power to speak while they moved.
As soon as Jain Zar's feet touched the Wailing Phoenix decks' wraithbone floor a slight tremor shook the ship's psychic matrix - everyone aboard the space ship, both the dead and the living, knew at the very same instant that their shrine-mother has finally returned. After the foul atmosphere aboard the Amasylemar's vessel the Wailing Phoenix's psychic climate was as pleasent as a balm. Locking the polearm on her back, Jain Zar shrugged her arms widely, brushing the ship's walls with fingertips as if caressing a living being. In the very literal sense the ship was an animate creature. "I'm with you again, my daughters, be calm," she whispered reverently with both her physical tongue and mind. Composed of the spirits of her disciples who had died on Tsagualsa hunting down the Night Lords, the wraithship was the very capricious vessel, recognizing no other authority but Jain Zar's alone. Fused with the wraithbone structure of the ship, the spirits of dead banshees answered only their mistress's call - a terrible price all of them paid willingly, refusing to join the Ulthwe's infinity circuit after their physical demise and continuing to assist the Storm of Silence even in death. She couldnt mourn their sacrifice, she simply didnt have such mortal feelings, but she understood clearly what all of them paid to be with her and it was her duty not to fail their expectations. "Have you been successful, sister?" one of the two approaching banshees clad in full war gear and without helmets addressed Jain Zar. Sister, it were only her disciples who had such a privilege to address her this way. "I have, brother Arnitran," Jain Zar replied and nodded. "And what of the primitives, shrine-mother, will they help us?" the second banshee asked. "And the soulless ones?". The flow of questions overwhelmed the Phoenix Lord. Like a mother calming disobedient children she raised her hands and laid palms upon the two banshees' head crowns. Both of them stiffened from fear, unable to say a single world. "Hush, hush, my children, I'm a bit tired of dealing with our would-be allies. I guess we all need some rest, do we?" she asked softly, indicating she wasnt angry at her warriors. They smiled in return knowing that the only way the Phoenix Lord could rest was training and excercise. The three of them turned around and headed towards the shrine section of the ship, calling both the dead and the living to join them - if they survived this quest, they would tell stories on the craftworlds on how the Storm of Silence herself was training with her own disciples, alone from all the Phoenix Lords of the Eldar still mentoring her disciples personally. Walking through the ship's corridors, Jain Zar touched the ship's psychic matrix with a part of her mind, looking into the interstellar void through the ship's sensors and systems - from the half-translucent psychic wards of the Webway she saw the wreckage of the Pandemius observation station where the Alpha Legion prepared a trap for the imperials, the mon-keigh's personal cruiser hiding behind one of the asteroids drifting slowly through the void, waiting like a serpent to strike at its prey. If everything worked as she intended, the imperial cruiser would be caught in maws between the four ships - her own, Amasylermar's, the Necrons' and the Alpha Legion's. The only part that remained for now was the one she disliked most of all - wait. Sabios's and the Necrons' retreat@Schalli , @Avenging-Angel , @Wata , @BlackNecron , @TuskatheDaemonKilla , @Aedric Captain Sabios wasnt idle while he was listening the Necrons' arrogant replies to him. While a part of his mind was dedicated solely to listening of the dead and metallic voices speaking to him one by one, another part of his intellect was analyzing the relationships amongst the xenos - if he could understand their inner structure and points of interaction, some military and strategic advantages could be gained from this information. He glanced at the one of them surrounded by his bodyguards (@Avenging-Angel) - for some reason, he couldnt shake the feeling that these three xenos were somehow close to their lord - perhaps close comrades or even friends. Then he looked at the second one which was insulting him (@BlackNecron) - that one probably wasnt their leader, his open aggression betrayed his harsh temperament - a haughty warrior rather than a leader and a speaker, a hard one to make business with apart from killing. The third one, which was finishing a twisted skeleton with his fearsome weapon (@TuskatheDaemonKilla) wasnt a leader at all, rather a mercenary or an assassin with no of his own authority, he obviously paid no heed to the conversation, awaiting any reply from his masters and ready to follow their order - that was good, this one could be manipulated. The fourth one (@Wata) was the strangest of all - he was humming something under his nose, as if paying no heed to what was going on around him, Sabios decided to study this individual later. The one that ordered Sabios to kneel (@Aedric) was probably chief amongst the xenos - his powerful and imperious voice implied no options of disobedience from those he addressed to. If the Alpha Legion wanted to use these aliens to its advantage, it would be this xeno they will need to manipulate most of all. He watched their possible leader starting to leave and it wasnt good at all. He quickly asssessed potential risks of various options presented before him and decided to chose one. "Thank you for your time. We will see you in orbit. Then we will discuss this matter further. There will be time to find the correct protocol for our next meeting," he said, although it would complicate the artefact's deliverance much. A sudden burst of energy and piercing shrieks of metallic abominations announced the arrival of enemy reinforcements - they were too many for now to be opposed openly. "Retreat to the ships!" Sabios shouted. Six of his brothers carrying three deceased skeletons started to retreat under covering fire of their last five brothers. The Necrons responded as well, quickly retreating to the oppossite tunnel. "Damn," Sabios cursed inside his head. They were supposed to accompany the xenos to their vessel, not separating from them. There was only one way to deliver the artefact he was given, the most risky one - firing from his Boltgun, Sabios looked at the closest to him xeno (@Avenging-Angel) who was firing greenish bursts of energy from his weapon, the xeno wasnt looking at Sabios and it was his momentary advantage - he picked up the flat chunk of wraithbone encrusted with small gemstones, its surface enclosed in strange shimmering fields. With a fast movement he threw the object at the xeno's cape, making it stick to the cape's surface - the object glimmered briefly and then suddenly became invisible as if it werent here at all. Then he glimpsed their possible leader (@Aedric) shouting some command and suddenly all the xenos who had firing weapons aimed them upwards and shot at the rock ceiling - the deafening sound of crushing stones and rocks filled the Space Marines' helmets. "Fall back!" Sabios cried into the vox link before the giant avalanhce of stones burried hundreds of screaming skeletons beneath, choking the tunnel with impenetrable debris - now they were completely cut off from the Necrons. "Curse you, xeno scum!" one of the legionnaires snarled. Inside his head Sabios agreed - the turn of events became undesirable, now possible peaceful parley seemed very unlikely - he wasnt sure the arrogant xenos would really attempt to contact the Alpha Legion once they reached their ship - but the artefact was with one of the Necrons, after all, now he hoped its precence wont be noticed by the xenos. "Plan B, brothers," he said and could literally feel disgust emanating from his brothers. "So now we are going to trust this xeno bitch who gave you that thing?" one of the warriors asked Sabios. He shook his head. "I dont trust the Eldar warrior. I've implanted her device with a small bomb - should she try to play games with us, it will immediately be destroyed. Everything is under control," he replied with more confidence than he really had. The only thing he was told about the artefact that it had something to do with the Dolmen Gate - a means by which the Necrons travel through the interstellar void. What would happen once the artefact is delivered upon the Necrons' vessel he had no idea and thus he was forced to trust Jain Zar, no matter how terrible it was for him. "Move out, our task here is done," he ordered and continue to stride through the tunnel, his brothers following. Imperials heading towards the Pandemius station@kanila , @BruticusTheGoreHound , @Jammysod The Sword of Orion was drifting through the void towards the disposition of the crashed observation station. There was no need to risk making a warp jump - they would arrive to their destination in two days granted no external impediments would occur. A new transmission was intercepted by the ship's communication systems when the Lord Commissar (@kanila) was sitting in his command throne on the dais, his eyes moving amongst several of displays with hundreds of cartographical data tables. +++Intercepted Communication+++ +++Aralan Sector+++ +++Station: Pandemius GF592+++ +++Transmission Message Begin+++ "This is Garlen Lockham of the Pandemius observation station! I...ah....there is something happening on the ship - the servitors dont respond to my commands anymore! They hunt me down, I've found at least a dozen of still alive crew members but some of them were killed! Please, help me, anyone! *sounds of shots can be heard in some distance away*. They've found me! I beg you, hurry, this is the last transmission I'm able to broadcast! The station's databases must be preserved at all costs, if you reach me, I'll pro......." +++Transmission Message Terminated+++ +++The message's deliverance status - interrupted+++
The atmosphere chances at once when Jair Zar leaves through Webway. The Commorrites begin to chatter and gossip, some releasing their pent up emotions in various ways. This meet-up will surely be the main gossip for days to come, it is not often one gets Phoenix Lord to personally visit their atelier. Amalysemar could take advance of this and fortify their standing on the high societies, causing great jealousy among their rivals. But the pretentious envy of their peers is last thing on Amalysemars mind. They were aware of the assignment in real space given by the Archon, but that a Phoenix Lord is involved on it. This is bigger than them. This is even bigger than Archon Vect. This could relate to their kinds whole existence and future. Phoenix Lord, Archon Vect, mon-keighs. This could be something even they could have trouble to comprehend fully. If their legs could, they would wobble right now under them. This feeling of meaninglessness. A brand new sensation. It IS SO INVIGORATING! EXCITING! STIMULATING! They grab their face, head tilting backwards as their wide-open bloodshot eyes roll almost around, their body trembling. Breathing heavily, Amalysemar slowly calms down. They need savour this, refine it to most finest meal. This is event of a century. Even a lifetime. They could be reborn again. They need to prepare, pull any favors and make promises. There won't be sparing expenses. By now, others have caught whiff of Amalysemaras emotional outburst and are drawn closer. "Prepare Tylarurdrenn. We have a voyage before us."
"Do not slight me again, Okantakht." Okantakht had not speaken to a Phaeron in Aeons since the war in Heaven, he was aware of this, and had been cautious to follow the code of nobility previous to the Marines' arrival. But now, he had made an grave error. His ego, forged by sixty-million years of relative solitude, may not have been swayed by Nurrakhs threat, but he noticed it as a threat nonetheless. If he wanted the phaeron to play a constructive part in fulfilling their ambitions for the galaxy, he first would have to convey to him that he was seen as an equal. "That was not my intention." As the Arbiter adressed his followers, Okantakht signalled Akenhotep and the deathmark that the conversation was over. He didn't voice his scepticism on the ability of his court to truly contain the Infection. Nurrahk was free to act as He pleased, this was his court after all. Walking on the arbiters left side, slightly behind, as the codes of court dictated for a guest of the same status, he spoke again, assuming that the rest would follow him. "You are the first of your status I met since the War in Heaven that still has a clear mind," the old Phaeron elaborated, " so I may have been a bit careless." When Nurrahk ordered the group to free them from the company of the primitives by collapsing the ceiling, he just nodded to his followers, signalling that they would follow his command. For now. First he had to regain his trust. For a moment he thought he had seen one of the marines throwing something after Akenhotep, but he disregarded it, as he had more important matters to attend to. After the dust had subsided, Okantakht faced Nurrahk once again: "As an apology, let me offer you the hospitality of the Remnant of Zenth, my personal ship. It currently resides in orbit and will fetch us at a moments notice." Only one familiar with the necrontyr society would notice the restraint in Okantakht's metallic voice. And the restraint was justified. This was an outrageous offer, and one where even the thought would send many of the necrons royality running in fear. Only few Lords would even apologise to an equal, and nearly no one in this way, let alone the Phaeron of a whole dynasty! Declining such an offer would bring about millenias of bad blood, and had caused, even between simple Lords, large ripples in Necrontyr society; results of their strong dynastical links and arrogance. The old Phaeron had determined that this was the only way to uphold their standing, and therefore had made this gamble.
The return of the Flayed Ones put an end to any further discussions, Nurrahk declaring that his legions would contain the threat and that they must leave. Falling into place just behind Okantakht, as the ancient protocols from before the bio-transferrance dictated, Akhenhotep ensured his own followers were keeping up, the Space Marines already dismissed from his mind. Hefting his staff at Nurrahk's shouted command, and giving the same order to his plasmancer, the Overlord directed the weapon's deadly energy stream at the ceiling, watching the stone come crashing down to block the advance of the Flayed Ones with some satisfaction, before continuing along the tunnel, keeping only half his attention on the two higher-ranked necron as they talked.
Listening to the second transmission from the dying station, Lord Commissar Rackham had a scowl on his face. First the Commanding Officer showing cowardice in front of his men, and now this. He puffed his cigar, the smoke swirling around the Command Deck ceiling. "Ensign, I want both recordings sent to the war room. And gather the boarding party, I will be in the War Room." One of the numerous ensigns saluted and scurried off to do the Lord Commissars bidding, the memory of the public execution still fresh in their minds. But avoiding certain routes due to 'pirate' activity was sheer cowardice and borderline heresy! Leaving citizens of the Emperor to die while you take a 'safer' route to ensure that you live, HA see how that worked out for him. After a short walk through the corridors of The Sword of Orion, his boots clicking methodically on the plasteel plates below his feet. The crew of the ship scurried about the vessel with their tasks and giving the Lord Commissar a wide berth because of his apparent sour mood. A faint trail of cigar smoke lingered in the air behind him in the hallway as he entered the war room. A holo display of a station slowly spiraled over a table in the center of the room, The Pandemius Observation Station. One of the analysts was able to find an older set of the schematics, but who knew what renovations have taken place since then. Facing the oscillating station, he couldn't help but sense a trap. The two transmissions didn't line up, something about the description of the attackers. Once the boarding party was present they could discuss it further. They only had a short time to prepare, and every minute was vital.
If he had lungs Akarahel would have sighed as the ceiling was caved in and they we're forced to move quickly. He also happened to notice the leader of the humans throw something at one of the lesser lords' cape. He couldn't quite remember this one's name but quite frankly they had just ordered to cause a cave on so he and little time to dwell on it. As such he quickly retreated into the dimension his kind use to await the time to strike and reappeared when they rest of the group had made it a safe distance away. The first thing he did was reach for his cape in the exact position the object the human threw was. Upon touching it, it's cloaking field failed revealing the Eldar device which he brought his full attention under. It had been too long since he had seen the favored children of the Old ones and they seemed to be still around if this device was anything to go by. He wasn't sure what it is but he will have to investigate it personally later when they arrive back on the ship. He placed it inside his hollow rib cage and realized how he had just touched a lord without permission with their body guards not too far away. But before they had time to retaliate he reentered his dimension yet again, in the material world he simple disappeared out of thin air with a dark red flash of energy.
Ethoch watched the debris fall down and the flayed ones getting crushed under it. He let out a groan of displeasure when their enemies were crushed. He had wanted again to play a piece, now it had been denied. Instead he watched the last debris make their final movements and listened to the muffled sounds of flayed ones under it, from what little could be heard. Tapping his chin with two of his finger in a rhythm while he analyzed the sounds, after that he quickly took pace with the rest of the Necrons. This flayer curse began a stream of thoughts in his mind that instilled a determination not to let it spread. Who would be there to play his masterpieces or who would be there to hear them if the curse ran rampant? The thought was vexing. While he walked he occasionally would tap a little beat with his staff, to help him in his thinking.
Spinning as he felt his cloak move Akhenhotep glared at the empty space the Deathmark had just occupied, cursing the dishonourable assassin. Detaching the piece of 'clothing' the Overlord turned his attention to each face, looking into the many empty eye sockets, and wondered what the Deathmark had been doing. If anything had been tampered with... Reattaching the cloak to the mounts built into his shoulders Akhenhotep continued glaring at where Akarahel had been, waiting for the Deathmark to return so that he could be 'questioned'. [OOC: Bold Italics - speech. Italics - thoughts]
