It was cold, Slark lay still in a massive coil, trying to keep what warmth he had to himself. "Bloody warmbloodsssss...", it muttered to itself. Slyth originally lived on a rather warm and arid planet, before they were corrupted by the excesses of Commuragh. Naturally the Dark City was a much different temprature than their kind was used to. Normally these lizard beings dealt with that by drugs or consuming massive amounts of food. Of course now it could afford neither of those. This meant that the normally active and proud creature was left in a pile, with a moldy blanket drapped over itself, trying not to freeze to death. More and more scales had been falling from it's skin, Slark had already once been caught eating one of the kabal's meager supply of slaves and had been forbidden to go the slave pens without escort. But as he snaked out his tongue to taste the dirty air, the smell of blood reached his senses, coming from the slave pens it seemed. The opportunity to feed was too great and the reptile slithered out of it's coil towards the door and down towards the cells, where the smell of blood was strong now. The snakeman saw 2 trueborn there, probably debating something unimportant, the only thing important right now was a bleeding humanoid with his arm right beside him. Slark murmured a short: "Hello...", before snaking to the slave, picking up the severed arm and stuffing it down it's throat.
The Stormtrooper watched in disgust as the man he had sent to free the other slaves was tortured. "Son of a bitch." Rebelling against these xeno scum was easier when they were successful. Now, they never bring in slaves any more, and what they had left was the bottom of the barrel. Used to be they brought in all sorts of slaves, the kind with combat experience who were fresh from the field, but now...? Now all they have left is the old and sick. Can't let that man suffer, nobody deserves that. The Stormtrooper levelled the pistol, pointing it at the man's head and pulling the trigger.
"You pathetic wretch cannot hurt me...", the Scourge, still arrogant even in poverty, assured her mark. Of course, to her hubristic mind it only mattered that he didn't scratch her; the fact that he was very close to doing so wasn't even registered. On all fours on top of him, she moved into a crouching position on his back, as if perched on a mast of some kind - Xileas had never resisted the strange bestial mannerisms that had come with her transformation. Her head cocked, curious eyes looked down on him with wicked intent. Already she felt invigourated. Already he did suffer. "Now tell me your name...", she would've purred, like she did in her younger years, but to anyone else it sounded more like a venomous hiss rather than a flirtarious whisper.
"There you are." The woman said in delight as her head spun around to the origin of the Las Pistol, walking up to the man who was concealed until now. "So, swinging around a Las Pistol and wasting it on a non-Eldar? You really just want to annoy us, mh?"
An audible sigh can be heard as the Stormtrooper steps out from where he was. "No, I saved him from a slow and agonizingly painful death just so you can get off on his suffering. Scum."
The crack of a las weapon brought the Slyth back for a moment from it's revelry, however the creature shrugged and merely said: "Dead meat is as good as living." Before taking out it's knife and cutting off the corpse's head, the head always tasted best. Slark picked up the severed part and dropped it into his waiting jaws, crunching the bones in a rather bloody mess before swallowing it.
Xileas- The man did not answer with words, for he could still roll around... And so he rolled to the right, which caused her to lose her perch on the man and deposit the Scourge onto the ground. He ran away from his would be tormentor, but his pace slowed from his injuries. Archon Lecipant Lecipant woke up, and felt much better than before, for this time she had a plan that could work well, with the resources her Kabal had available. She got out of her bed, which gave a little moan from being relived of being occupied. She then got dressed her her finest set of clothing she had, for now was the time to take charge and so reverse the misfortune that lead them here, starting with the local rival the Bloody Eye. She walked of to the throne room and upon arrival, sat down on the throne and draped her left leg over the left arm of the throne. She turned to Miracter, another one of the Trueborns that had followed her and spoke "Bring me Xelieas, Anymea, Slark and that rebellious slave. NOW!" Miracter started off her search with the Slave cells, for they were often the first port of call for any in the Kabal, but she was delayed by having to do a small favour for the Archon....
Miracter soon arrived at the prison cell and announced her command. Arymea grinned on that toward the soldier-slave. "Seems like you are coming with me, handsome." She chuckled.
Kormaily - Finally ended up in what you could call his living quarters. He lounged in the one thing he had left, a hammock (the only thing no one would buy) and drank from a cheap bottle of liquor he stole off an Imperial Freighter.
Though the thought of leaving the rest of that corpse there seemed like a waste, duty called and it is not wise to keep an archon waiting, no matter how weak.
