StarDestroyer.Net BBS

I've been playing with this idea and finally began setting words upon paper (or computer screen, as the case is...)

Let me know how you like?

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She dreams…

Pandemonium roars through the chamber, slim sharp-featured children screeching in fear and clinging to their nurses. The door bangs open; a mighty warrior strides in, tall and broad-shouldered for an eldar, his hair arranged intricately and the carefully grown wraithbone armour upon his body indicating his status as Autarch. He holds out his hands, and commands peace. The children quiet down, and with an approving nod, the lord tells them to gather their most precious possessions and follow him. He walks over to her cradle, and looks down gently through the wraithbone cage.

Behind him, an eldar female steps up, gray streaking her hair, the heavy runes of her office seeming to weigh as unto a world. A mighty helm is cradled in the crook of her arm, and in her other hand a staff with an eye within a triangle at its apex. She whispers to the lord, “Rhaedgar? Guard and serve her with your life, old friend.”

He bows slightly and responds sorrowfully, “My lady, I shall do so. But you must come with us. Taernaeth needs a mother…”

“I must see to the city, Rhaedgar. The mon-keigh are about to overwhelm our flank defences. The avengers cannot stand for much longer. Our aspects are dead for the most part; only the reapers stand still. The children must be safe, for our future lies with them. Take them, my friend, far away from here!”

Turning about upon her toe, she raises the helm and eases it down upon her head. Robed thusly, she holds up her staff and declares, “In the name of Isha, Kurnous, and Vaul, my blessings upon you, Rhaedgar. Now take the children away to safety, before I clasp my daughter to my breast once more, for I will not let her go…”

A mighty explosion shatters the roof of the chamber. Another destroys a wall as Rhaedgar spins about, drawing his mighty power-sword. An enormous beam falls down upon the lady, crushing her to the ground; Rhaedgar flies to her side with a cry. Red-coated, simian-faced creatures rush in, laughing bestially and firing their rifles all about. The children are slain, and their nurses. Rhaedgar’s sword does its terrible, swift work; but a ravening blast of heat energy consumes him, fired from one of the monkeys’ weapons.

When all are dead, they begin leaving. But one stops at the breach in the wall, and looks behind. Colors begin changing subtly, and when his face appears above her, she sees a concerned expression, a realization of what she is… He whispers words in a harsh, rough language not without tenderness, and gently picks her up from the cradle. Looking about, he ever so gently puts her back and pulls off his coat, then wraps her in it. Making a hole in the shattered wraithbone rubble with his foot, he places her within, and whispers more words, before placing a large chunk of wraithbone above, hiding her away…

And then Tanith woke, yawning hugely. As she stretched catlike in her bed, she slowly realizes she’d been dreaming about being an eldar again. Why was that, she wondered?

Stepping out of her bed, leaving the furs heaped upon the roughly made but lovingly smoothed frame, she stepped barefoot across the wooden floor to the pitcher and basin beside a small mirror upon the wall. Crouching slightly to look at herself—she hadn’t been able to look at it without bending down slightly in a year, her mother always said she grew fast—she mused aloud, “Must be how I look like them…”

Sharp features, almond-shaped eyes, gently pointed ears looked back at her from underneath rumpled long dark hair, red accents shining from it in the rising sunlight. She stuck out her tongue at herself, then turned around and poured some water into the basin. Washing her face and arms quickly, she then opened the chest at the foot of her bed and pulled out some garb for the day, dressing quickly as she smelt food from below.

Opening the window and leaping lightly through it, with a graceful spin in midair she landed upon the dewy grass beneath. Looking about her, mist hung upon the trees; the sun was just cresting the mountains distant. At the very edge of her hearing, a quiet, lamenting song hummed… She frowned, half recognizing it, but then shrugged it off as her mom hollered from the house, “Tanith! Breakfast is ready! Are you going to come down?”

Silently entering the rear door, she stepped like a ghost behind Mari, who was standing at the foot of the ladder leading up to her room, looking upward frustrated with her daughter. Her daughter, meanwhile, grinned and leaned close—then hugged! Mari started, and then sighed gently. “Tani, you’ll be the death of me one of these days…”

“Sorry, Mom… What’s to eat?”

Mari gestured at the plates upon the wooden table and pulled off the cloths atop a few, and told her, “Made pancakes with the nut-flour, and fried a few of those rodents you caught in the trees yesterday. Also eggs. I’m amazed the local birds haven’t died off, what with the way you raid their nests. Don’t eat too fast, leave some for your da, he’s out in the barn. Going to town today…”

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Half a sector away

Inquisitor Nachtmann Grund, of the Ordo Xenos, growled angrily at the Imperial Guard commander standing before him, “What in the Emperor-damned warp business do you have here with this tale of a deserter? Find him and execute him, and let him rot!”

The commander, slightly pale underneath his permanent tan, swallowed and carefully spoke to the Inquisitor, “If you will note underneath Kalden, Tomas, Corporal First Class’s Service Record, you will see his last known record is at the assault upon Khalembrasil. After the eldar city, he did not answer any musters; and rumors sprang up that he had taken a child from the xenos city and fled with it…”

The powerful eyebrow feared throughout three sectors lifted up as he perused the relevant section. The officer quaked inwardly, but remained at sharp attention, maintaining form which would’ve made his drill instructors a century and a half ago weep with joy. He flinched as the Inquisitor slammed down the dataslate and grinned predatorily, and declared, “Most interesting, Colonel. I shall detail one of my Interrogators to accompany you. If there is any truth to this—which I highly doubt—we shall bring the due vengeance of the Divine God-Emperor of Mankind upon this miscreant. Now take your dataslate, your hat, and get out of my office!”

++++++++++++++++++

Undisclosed location

Incense steamed upward. The arcanely shadowed form of bent wraithbone sat silent upon a mighty throne, a massive power-sword leaning against the wall beside it. That wall, as well as the rest in the chamber, were covered in hieroglyphs, describing mighty exploits and great conquests. A great door opened; and inside strode a bent figure, leaning heavily upon its staff. It held up a hand, and whispered in cracked eldar, <Mighty Lord, old friend, arise. I have need of you, to fulfill an oath you swore twenty years ago.>

The Wraithlord stirred, the light coating of dust sifting from its frame. Its massive hand reached out, and grasped the hilt of its blade. Slowly, majestically standing up, mutely it lifted the blade high above its head as it stretched upward, hand reaching out for the light filtering down from above… and then knelt, offering its sword. A light, scarred hand rested upon the unpowered blade, and the voice whispered again, <Thank you.>

Heard more in thought than with the ear, the response: For my lady Anath, ever shall I stand. She... is alive?

<Alive and well. But stolen away by the mon-keigh, and we must rescue my daughter.>

I like it a lot. The concept is very interesting, and I can't wait to see how this turns out.

In short, keep writing!

Yes. Keep Writing.

Some brief background details:

Tanith's parents are Tomas and Mari Kalden. Tomas is the deserter mentioned above, his Guard regiment being the XV Praetorian Legion.

Anath is a Farseer. The Wraithlord... we'll see

This is mostly everything so far, but more details will be revealed in time!

Did you just set up a situation that is going explode into frightening violence? Yes you did.

Oh my. . . Why can't all these people just let the little folks be? Isn't that Inquisitor wasting his time chasing after one deserter with an Eldar child? Doesn't the Farseer realize that her own daughter might not be so eager to see her, having been raised by the Mon-keigh? Sending a wraithlord in might be a bad idea. *shakes head* I am no Farseer, but I do foresee that this can only end in pain and heartbreak. For the child, most of all for she has the most to loose.
Why, in a galaxy beset by war and conflict can there be no love, no moments of reconciliation, and no happiness? *pauses* And don't give me that crap about there being only war.

This is in 40k, and is not a humor fic. Oh shit.

Well, I hope the Emperor lets the parents at least die relatively quickly. They're decent folks.

This is why I love 40k. Everything burns, explodes, or just dies. No bald men in pajamas rambling about prime directives, morality and whatnot. Just mindless obscenity.

Meant purely in jest, of course. Will be interesting to see where this one goes.

You're getting it in the fork for that one, Vanas.

Anyway! Part Two commences:

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Tanith stood still as the trees about her, so fixed in her position that she appeared as though a painted statue stood in the forest. Sunlight filtering through the branches glanced dully off the blackened blade of her knife, razor-sharp and held at the ready. Bare feet hardly parted the leaves covering the floor; nearby, flicking its ears, an antlered lem-buck nibbled the new leaves springing forth upon the nearby trees.

Lifting her hand almost imperceptibly, the girl’s muscles slowly clenched underneath her skin; the buck snorted and looked directly at her, and she froze. It saw only forest, thanks to her hooded tanned leather hunting outfit covered with leafy sprigs cut before she entered the woods. It turned back to the leaves, as she stared at it, willing it to look away.

A slow exhalation of breath, rustling the leaves of the sprigs upon her head in time with the slight breeze that went through the treetops; drawing in breath, filling her lungs, she bellowed and the coiled springs of her legs lashed loose. Sprigs fell away as she lunged through the air, the buck frozen where it stood, shocked by her shout.

The knife flashed through the air, ramming into the buck’s neck, severing its spinal cord as it began to spring away; with a twist, she slashed the knife out, opening the neck. The buck collapsed, and she felt the rattle of breath leaving its lungs as she knelt beside it. As its eyes began glazing over, she reached up and tenderly closed them, and then methodically set to skinning it.

Leaves rustled behind her; with a nimble leap she was into the trees.

A white pith helmet and tattered red coat patched with leather ventured forth; the rugged gentleman wearing that outfit smiled slightly as he saw the knife stuck hastily into the earth, and knelt beside the buck, his carefully maintained lasrifle slung upon his back. As he followed up on the skinning that Tanith had began, he started whistling gently.

Just as she hung upside down from a branch above and extended a finger to tap his head, he commented in amused tones, “You can get down from there now, daughter. You weren’t fast enough for me to not see you jumping up…”

Gracefully, she landed upon her feet and grumbled, “One of these days, Da, I’m going to surprise you. Just you wait…”

He smiled at her, tanned face creasing, and gestured to the buck. Together they finished skinning it and cleaning it; pulling a length of dried sinew from his jacket pockets, Tomas Kalden, formerly a corporal of the XV Praetorians, devoted husband of Mari, now proud father of Tanith, strung up the portions of the deer they did not want for the local scavengers as she wrapped the meat and other parts up into the skin. The antlers were carefully propped atop the package, and Tanith helped heft it upon Kalden’s back. They set off through the forest, heading home.

As Tanith lightly stepped upon a line of boulders (placed at the edge of the forest by Kalden when clearing the land for his farm), she lightly commented, “Da? I dreamed about being eldar again…”

He sighed and responded, “Tanith, you know we’ve told you about all that. We don’t know who your parents were but the people we found in that building were all looking like you. We thought it was some warp-touch or some such. That’s why you need to quit doing that too, daughter…”

She frowned and batted her hands, the gossamer shape of a lem-buck vaporizing from where it hung before her (curiously, it seemed to shimmer and almost form a runic shape before it vanished entirely, disturbing Kalden slightly). Frustrated, she asked, “But why must I restrain myself? I have to wear the stupid hood whenever we go to town, I have to stay in my room whenever the arbitrators come around to pick up the taxes, I can’t venture too close to the other farms, I can’t see any boys my age…”

He chuckled slightly and observed, “That last one doesn’t have anything to do with how you look, it has everything to do with the fact that there aren’t any boys your age except in town, and you know we almost never go into town.”

“But the last time we went, there was that cute guy in the store,” Tanith began pointedly, and he hastily held up his hand. “That was because he looked suspicious, honey. I don’t want you meeting any boys like that. You never know what they’ll do…”

Inwardly she smiled, remembering something her mother had muttered under her breath after discussing that particular incident with her father—“Just afraid of a boy being exactly the same way he was when he was younger, Tomas is… and that’s how he ended up with me... Would it be so terrible for Tani to find a nice boy?”


Black Ship Cardinal Luthor of Law, en route to Colonia Praetorius IX system

Interrogator Meirax flipped through his dataslate as the retinue his master Grund had assigned him entered the small briefing room one by one. As the last member, the sniper Snowman (a Valhallan by ancestry presumably, though why Valhallans would want to settle in that godforsaken hive of Nawlans was beyond his comprehension), entered the chamber he looked up and pointedly cleared his throat.

The Inquisitorial employees settled in their seats with a minimum of grumbling (except for the silent one in the back; Father Gale of the Ecclesiarchy was a most taciturn person, and Meirax never felt quite right about him) and paid the interrogator at least a modicum of attention. With a press of the rune upon the dataslate’s miniaturized hololith attachment, he brought up the relevant data. Addressing them, he spoke, “Gentlemen, we have been assigned by our master Inquisitor Grund to search the Praetorius IX system for a single person and his xenos heresy.

“While I realize it may seem odd for us to be seeking out a single person, bear in mind that he has committed a ultimate heresy in regard to the xenos; he has embraced them, going as far as to adopt a child of the eldar as his own. Before this heresy can spread, it must be eradicated. This eldar undoubtedly has been part of a diabolic plan to remove the illustrious colonists of this former exodite world by xenos sabotage from the inside.

“I have sent each of you files containing the relevant information necessary for your scouting of Praetorius; geographical, geological, terrain, maps, cultural information, and so forth. The cultural information is up to you; the great majority of the settlers below are former Imperial Guards and their families, allowed to settle here after the XI through XX Praetorian Guard regiments, associated with the Praetorians of the Adeptus Astartes, defeated the eldar here. Some of you may have in fact been with our master when he assisted High Lord Martyn Chemmis in his command of the Praetorian Campaign of sector reclamation, and so should be familiar with these men.

“We must show no mercy whatsoever once we find any clues leading toward this heretic and his adopted xenos-spawn. They must be eradicated utterly and any devilish xenos plans smashed. Questions?”

The sergeant of the Guard squad detailed to assist the Inquisitor (drawn from the best scholas of Cadia) lifted his hand lazily, and Meirax spiked him with a look, inquiring coldly, “Yes, Sergeant Buchar?”

He yawned idly and asked rhetorically, “So, where do we start? Planet’s a big place…”

Meirax sighed and poked the hololith rune again; it twinkled and the letters distorted, forming themselves into a translucent sphere upon which the continents drew themselves and dots representing the major settlements shone forth. Indicating the largest upon the main western hemisphere continent, he responded, “We make landfall at Londinium, the system capital. There we shall requisition a flyer, preferably an armed one—you’re in charge of that, Vehrec—and from there follow any lines of investigation we uncover. Any more questions?”

Snowman lifted his hand, and received the same penetrating look; Meirax wasn’t one for social niceties. Unperturbed, the sniper inquired, “Any restrictions upon weapons? And do we scout on our own, or just spread out whenever we land?”

“You can use your tau gun once the techpriests have consecrated it again, but keep the Emperor-damned spiritless abomination out of sight when we’re in town. Use your long-las then. And as for your second question, the vox equipment we have isn’t long enough ranged to allow for any of you to venture out too far. We’ll requisition a few long-range vox units for when we pick up on something interesting, and when that happens then you can go out on your own and start hunting down leads. Is that it?”

The retinue looked at each other, and essentially gave a unanimous mental shrug; thumping off the hololith, Meirax gestured to the door, and turned to the heavily augmented savant that had been sitting behind him. “Savaanuk, you can stop recording the minutes now. Go on to your quarters, I don’t think we’ll need you groundside.”

The bearded savant, his augmetic eyes staring from underneath a flowing mass of hair, clicked out from his mechanical voice-box, +++I may be of assistance in collating data and presenting it in comprehensive format. My logs are extensive; I will process them whenever requested and reach preliminary conclusions for your assessment. Satisfactory?+++

The interrogator considered, and then nodded. Savaanuk trundled out on his mechanical legs; Meirax mused, contemplating that perhaps the savant could qualify for servitor status given the amount of augmetics the man had. He would consider submitting that to Grund; they wouldn’t have to pay him then. And the way he incessantly scribbled the words spoken around him… most disturbing indeed, that. But back to business!

And he began typing away upon his dataslate, setting out a preliminary report to issue by astropathic communiqué once they had landfall…

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Comments welcome as always... the Emperor bless ye and keep ye!

*blinks* I'm the wheelman? Or am I the quartermaster? Either way, they both seem safer than usual jobs for a servant of the inquisition.
I'm going to be killed in the spectacularly messy fashion that all cameos are, aren't I?

And I can feel for Tanith, with her desire to break out, see boys, and have a social life. It's so typically universally teenager. She wants to get out, experiance the world, and do things. It's fairly obvious that she doesn't quite realize just how talented she is in comparison to everyone else. And she's very human in her behavior, a reminder that the Eldar weren't always this stuck up and superior. Its impossible not to like her. Even if she is a budding farseer. The tiny floating image sent chills up my spine.

Yeah, that was pretty scary. This story seems to have a 'waiting, lurking fear' elements that's very impressive.

I give the girl maybe two more chapters before everything goes to shit for her. At least inquisitorially. The Eldar are more of an unknown quantity for me.

I'm not familiar with the world of 'Warhammer 40,000', so I have to ask... Is Tanith a full Eldar, or is she an Eldar-human hybrid created BY the Eldar to fulfill some archaic plan of theirs? And do those pointy-ear bastards actually refer to us as monkeys?! (Mon-keigh sounds pretty damn obvious, like my referring to an Orion pirate as "Kok'Suka")

From what I gather, the Eldar aren't supposed to be 'compatible' with humanity. According to Xenology they shit crystals, but I write that off as Inquisition propaganda that's gotten out of hand. Much more likely they are much more similar to us, and can pass as human with a headband to cover the ears. Tanith is displaying classical Eldar grace and powers, so she's almost certainly a pure and perfect example of her species. In fact, from what I see, she's better adjusted emotionally than most mainstream Eldar.

And the term Mon-keigh is supposed to just mean 'primitives' or 'lesser race' or something. Its a reference to how arrogant the Eldar are, because EVERY race that isn't Necrons, tyranid, or Eldar is refered to as Mon-Keigh in every example I've ever seen. And I don't know what the Eldar call Orks. It's a pretty blatant insult, but I don't know if their language even has a proper name for humanity. Some Eldar might still view humanity as a flash in the pan and as a result their language hasn't adapted to include us yet. They are 65 million years old, and it always seemed to me that the survivors of the destruction of their Empire must have been the most reactionary of their society. (chossing to forgo comfort and pleasure in favor of a life full of tradition) While their reasoning reached the correct conclusion, I don't think the Craftworld and Exodite eldar were exactly the most progressive members of their species.

Hooray! Horrendous terrible horrible violence without end!

Sidewinder wrote:I'm not familiar with the world of 'Warhammer 40,000', so I have to ask... Is Tanith a full Eldar, or is she an Eldar-human hybrid created BY the Eldar to fulfill some archaic plan of theirs? And do those pointy-ear bastards actually refer to us as monkeys?! (Mon-keigh sounds pretty damn obvious, like my referring to an Orion pirate as "Kok'Suka")

The 'mon-keigh' bit has been covered well enough.

Tanith is most definitely full eldar, incidentally, but with soft enough features (due to her youth; the majority of eldar adults depicted in 40K are pretty old, as their low reproduction rate means there aren't many young people) to pass as Asiatic or slightly mutated provided her ears are hidden. The story so far in regard to her parentage as she knows it is clear enough...

Parte tres!

Comments, criticism, suggestions welcome as always...

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The ruins of Khalembrasil

Wind keens sorrowfully through the shattered wraithbone of the city, scarred and scorched from its destruction. Decaying foliage droops in the clogged avenues of the once-beautiful eldar community; letting his hand drop sadly to his side, the bonesinger recalls with sorrow the day he sang this column to existence, that he now stands before.

He sighs, and gathering a few shards of wraithbone from the ground, steps through the ruins to where the remains of a large portal stand in the midst of the demolished building. Surveying the ruins, he carefully steps forward upon the elevated section of flooring and places the shards of wraithbone gathered in precise locations, by what appear to be shattered pieces of a great arch.

Stepping back, he holds up a hand with a piece of organically curved, hollow bone within; blowing gently into it, a note sounds. Imperceptibly, the air begins twinkling gently about him, and the wraithbone shards begin glowing. Lowering the instrument, he holds up his hands, palms toward the remains of the arch, and begins singing.

His keening lament, a mere monotonous clangor to the majority of human ears, sings of sorrow, of death, of the fall of the eldar. He sings to the wraithbone, asking its forgiveness for its destruction. He sings to the earth, asking its blessing upon the crafting of new wraithbone, and to the air, asking it to bring the raw materials that the bone needs to grow. A light dust begins whipping through the air as the shards slowly lift from the ground, his paean increasing in volume, glowing balls of static electricity hovering about his garments as they are whipped by the wind.

Any eldar listening to the song would be weeping by now; and indeed, under his mask, the bonesinger’s eyes flow with unshed tears. He shouts a final note, and with a flare of light the portal arch rises intact. He places a hand upon the arch’s edge and whispers in eldar, “Let me through, and disappear until we call upon you again. Thank you.”

The air within the portal shimmers for a second; and then the portal blinks, and vanishes.

Around where it was, the ruins of Khalembrasil stretch far and empty, Death the only populace of the city…

Ayrinburgh Mountains, Kalden’s Pond Farm

“Tomas! If you don’t hurry up with that, the butter and milk are going to spoil!” Mari shouted from the window of the dairy storage. A door opened in the hillside and she emerged (the dairy was dug into the hill and then reinforced with stones, before roofed with sod and covered with earth; in time it had become a part of the mountainside, its dug-in coolness keeping the milk and other products Mari and Tanith made nicely fresh), carrying paper-wrapped blocks of butter.

Mumbling curses under his breath, face smudged, Kalden pulled his head from under the hood of the quad-wheel transport in the barn and shouted up, “The machine spirit’s sick, Mari! I have to adjust its flame and make sure it’s happy before we go, you don’t want to get stuck in town do you?”

She shook her head, amused at the bimonthly ritual Kalden engaged in with his ancient Guard vehicle; who knew how long it’d been in the service before he ‘borrowed’ it? Nonetheless he had been an eager enough lay brother of the Mechanicus before he was drafted into the Praetorians, and so far he had been capable enough; she just hoped the eggs wouldn’t break again…

As she entered the kitchen she called out to the ceiling, “Tanith! Ten minutes, dear!”

Upstairs, her daughter was glowering at the mirror; frowning fiercely, she pulled out the braid she’d just spent a goodly amount of time carefully weaving. Grabbing the brush, she grumbled to herself as she untangled the hair, and grabbed some precious metal hairpins bought in town when she was but a child. Gently arranging her hair in a simpler configuration, she sighed, brow furrowed as she looked at herself in the mirror; on the bed behind, her hood laid crumpled. She didn’t want to wear it; but she knew she had to; otherwise she wouldn’t go into town. Once when she had been a child, she had absolutely refused, and ended up sitting on a boulder in the woods outside town, Mari frowning fiercely, while Kalden huffed off into the town and made his sales and purchases as hastily as he could.

Wincing at the memory, she sighed and reached out, taking the hood and laying it about her neck; she would at least refrain until they were about to enter town or if anybody passed their vehicle. Clambering down the ladder, she took a basket without prompting and walked out to the quad, which was beginning to chug. She shouted over the noise, “Push the choke in, Da! Don’t give the machine-spirit too much to drink, or it’ll die again!”

Slowly, the engine began to take a more regular, stronger throb as the promethium flow eased; and her father stepped out, nodding approval at her as she carefully put the covered basket of butter and bread into the back of the quad’s cab. He commented quietly as he went over to the washing trough, “You should learn more, Tani. I was about to do that, but it’s good that you remembered. One of these days maybe I won’t be as good with my hands as I used to be; you’re young, and if you learn, then we won’t need to worry about getting to town when I can’t work on it as much.”

She looked at him and rolled her eyes, and walked back into the house; slightly confused, he looked at her as she walked away, eyes shining bright in a grease-smeared face, dark refined promethium all over his chest and arms…

They loaded the truck, and rolled on, bumping and jarring their way down the mountain and the winding road that Tomas had slowly but patiently blazed with the quad’s dozer attachment. At the base was the Kemis farm, which Tomas and Mari had helped build when Tanith was a baby; Mart and Tev knew about her, so she didn’t have to wear her hood around them. They were like her uncle and aunt; Mart had served with her father in the Praetorians.

As the sun began setting behind the mountain, they rumbled through the rear gate, and pulled up behind the house below. Tomas leaped out of the truck, and helped Mari down as he hollered, “Mart! Tev! We’re here! Hope your food’s ready, cause we’ve got a powerful hungerin’ on!”

Mart’s lanky form stood at the rear door, grinning at them; Tanith ran up and hugged him, and he rubbed her back as he held out his hand to Tomas. She went into the kitchen, and there greeted Tev, who was kneading bread for them to take to town the next day.

At the dinner table, candles and diluted promethium lamps the only illumination (promethium being expensive enough that they could not afford to generate spark for illuminators or glows), they discussed the latest events in town, as Mart had just gotten back that past weekend from a trip to sell grox.

“Things are getting mighty interesting there, mark you, Tomas. The arbites are all in a fuss, and I don’t know why. Seems the astropaths in Ell-town went nuts when they picked up on something sparking off in that place. You know the one, Tomas…” he trailed off, casting a significant glance.

Kalden stuffed a chunk of Tev’s excellent berry pie into his mouth, and mumbled through it, “Yeah? Well, what does that have to do with us? Especially considering it’s most of a continent away…”

At the other end of the table, Mari frowned and leaned over to Tev, whispering, “You know, Tani is starting to get… restless. As far as we know, she doesn’t seem to have… that time of the month? So… I can’t think of anything. She’s been talking about boys a lot, but I suppose at her age without having seen much of them that’s normal…”

Tev rolled her eyes and gently commented, “I think that’s a little obvious, dear... What else has she been doing?”

That made Mari sit back and contemplate… “Well, she seems to be hunting a lot more. Going into the forest, coming back with a bunch of meat, skins or eggs. I’ve tried to get her into knitting, crocheting, sewing, all that, but it doesn’t seem to do anything. She’s not interested in anything Tomas has offered either. He followed her once or twice into the forest, but then she just pointed out she could tell he was there, and wasn’t going to do anything. She kept to that, too, so we figured there’s not much point in that.”

Nodding, Tev sat back and contemplated. She looked through the doorway to the living room, where Tanith laid curled up on the couch, a light blanket over her, the creaky self-powered holoscreen flickering with what she recognized as one of their old recordings from the public entertainment channels on Praetorius Primaris. Her sharp, not precisely human features illuminated by the holoscreen’s flickering remained still, and she seemed to be asleep…

Once the house was dark, the last candle extinguished, Tanith rolled onto her back and sat up, the blanket sliding off her. The holoscreen had been turned off; she pricked up her ears, and heard Tomas’ thunderous snoring from the guest chambers upstairs. Carefully unbuttoning her dress, she stood and let it drop, then laid it gently upon the couch. Clad in her thin tanned lem-buck hide hunting clothes, she stepped light as a ghost outside to the quad and pulled out her light moccasins from underneath a seat.

Running silently to the barn, her hair flowing in the night breeze, short top taut against her body, she leaped noiselessly up the ladder to the loft. There, she sat down in the hay, crossed her legs, and rested the back of her hands upon her knees. Closing her eyes, she began to hum, unconsciously echoing the song that had sounded in the dead eldar city a few months ago…

Stars shimmered in the sky above. Her eyes glowed electric blue underneath closed eyelids, her hair lifting gently as sparks danced above her palms, chasing themselves into various shapes, arcane letters wrought by hands not human. Unconscious of the whispering all about her, she rose up gently from the floor, hovering light as a feather a few inches above the strewn hay.

She frowned, and opened her eyes, settling down slowly to the hay, the sparks dissolving and her hair falling back down upon her shoulders. Nostrils flared, and she buried her face in her hands, mumbling, “Great. Psyker-taint. When do the Black Ships come for me then?”

Interlacing her fingers and resting her chin upon them, elbows upon knees, she mused aloud, “What’s going on with me? I know Tomas and Mari are my parents. They didn’t give birth to me, but they’re still my parents. Why then is all this happening to me…? And why in frak do I keep hearing those songs at the very edges of my ears?”

Because you're xenos witch, silly, and you're going to burn.

That said, that was frightfully close to being slice of life, which wouldn't have been a bad thing.

Ford Prefect wrote:Because you're xenos witch, silly, and you're going to burn.

That said, that was frightfully close to being slice of life, which wouldn't have been a bad thing.

Hmm? Elaborate if you please...?

If you mean the first part of my comment, it's a reply to Tanith's last sentence. The second part refers to a story which essentially follows the normal doings of normal people.

Ford Prefect wrote:If you mean the first part of my comment, it's a reply to Tanith's last sentence. The second part refers to a story which essentially follows the normal doings of normal people.

Was the second part, first was kinda obvious

It was mainly your tone that interested me, with the 'which wouldn't have been a bad thing' comment...

I like slice of life stuff! It's cute! Stop hounding me! Aaaaaah!

*cough*

I'm guessing it'd give her some warning right before everything goes to shit. I have no clue though, so take that with a mountain of salt.

That said: Her experimentation is just going to make it easier for the Inquisition to find her.

No proper devotee of the Ministorum's teachings would mourn the death of a xeno, even a nice one like Tanith.