Chap. 41 - Back to the Stage
Aeldari 1:-So it is he. How interesting. - The aeldari on the left mentioned, the one who looked at Kanan with curiosity.
Aeldari 2:-It's much smaller than I thought. - I speak theaeldari male on the right with some disappointment.
Aeldari 1:-Maybe it's an anomaly. -
Aeldari 2:-More like a mistake of the thirsty. -
Aeldari 1:-Their names are very strange. -
Aeldari 2:-More like a Mon-Keight than an ork. -
The two ends of the council began to chatter about the newcomer without much qualms. Kanan saw them and didn't know whether to ask them to be quiet or throw a rock at them, but since Lith remained calm he preferred to do the same. Furthermore, the sharp gaze of theaeldari of the center above him gave him a strong chill. So:
Aeldari 3 :-It's enough. - The one who seemed to be the leader of the craft world spoke.
His words were absolute. As soon as his voice was present, the other two members of the council fell completely silent, returning to the stoicism they presented when Kanan entered the room. So, she continued.
Aeldari 3 :-I guess you have questions... As many as we do. But I guess it's rude that we didn't introduce ourselves properly. To my right stands Rioth Kalun, Autarch of Craftworld Cernunnos and warlord. -
As he spoke, his hand was raised to the right, pointing to theaeldari wearer of the armor even while being inside his kingdom, which does not evenif he flinched when he and Kanan exchanged glances.
Aeldari 3 :-To my left is Miesha Jiashiz, seer and candidate for the position of great seer of the craftworld of Cernunnos. -
Upon hearing her name,aeldari mentioned, still sitting on her throne chair, bowed her head slightly in a sign of respect and gratitude for what Kanan and the rest oforkos have done. Which he didn't like very much to the male aeldari.
Aeldari 3 :-And finally, I introduce myself as the great seer of the craftworld of Cernunnos. Maximum authority and guide of our people,Ney'at Thef. -
Kanan felt it. The white-haired ork felt the weight of the words. Each letter gestured by thataeldari It was charged with a power that he was not able to understand. She spoke in languageaeldari, but his voice was charged with energy.
Kanan looked into her eyes. Those eyes affected by blindness, but that fixed on him like the gaze of a tiger on its prey. Kanan knew it. She saw it. I saw him not as an ork. Not like the leader of the horde. Not like Gorko and Morko's champion. Nothing of that. She saw him as what he really was... As what he was... As what he will be.
Kanan had never experienced a mind reading against him before. It was strange. His head hurt a little, but nothing he couldn't handle. Still, he felt strangely vulnerable. There was no secret that he was capable of hiding. There was no pun he could use to confuse his interrogators. There was nothing he could do... and he knew it. BecauseNey'at He made it very clear to him as soon as he entered his mind. To your memories. The aledari already knew everything about him... The question was... Would this ork be trustworthy? Or was he just another liar whose words hid his true intentions? Only Kanan would be able to decide such a thing.
As a warrior, Kanan knew how to admit defeat. This was a battlefield that he did not know, and he knew he had lost as soon as he looked the great seer in the eyes. There was no point in lying at this point... Although the truth may not have been a good outlet for their controversy either.
Kanan told everything. Everything... Without reserving the slightest bit of information that his mind was capable of remembering. His story began when Slaanesh stole his soul from the clutches of Nurgle, up to the point in the story where they met. Everyone was listening, and different reactions were visible in the gestures of those present.
Rioth seemed angry after every word Kanan said, although that was nothing more than a ploy to hide his own concern from what he heard.
Miesha He did nothing to hide his curiosity, and even asked questions thatthey interrupted the history of the orks. Some even unnecessary, but they couldn't blame her. She seemed to be someone curious by nature, and it's not every day you get to hear the story of a being as strange as Kanan. Trazyn the Infinite himself would be jealous not to be a participant in such an event.
Lith did his best to hide his astonishment, but that was something only the great seer was capable of doing. Knowing that Kanan was a mon-keight It was without a doubt a great surprise, much more knowing that he was one of the most consecrated swordsmen of his species. But without a doubt, the reason for their crusade was something that none of the fourin aeldari present were able to accept. Words that... would leave them thinking for a while.
It was two long hours of talk. Kanan even had to drink liquid on several occasions, since the ork's throat was not designed to sustain such extensive monologues. Now, Lith and Kanan stood outside the council chamber, the meeting with the high lords of the craftworld having ended.
Lith: - I... I need to rest for today... I need... I need time to process all of this. -
Right:-I think... I need it too. -
Lith: - I'll take you to the coliseum so.... -
Right:-I remember the way... You don't have to worry. -
You didn't have to be very smart to figure it out. Theaeldari She wasn't very well psychologically after hearing what he said, so a little time alone would be good for her, so she could clear her head and think things through calmly. And maybe... Make the right decision. And also for him.
A small goodbye and they both went their separate ways. Kanan's walk towards the coliseum was slow, just enough for his mind to find the answers he needed. Answers that he already knew, but refused to accept. Whether it was because of fear or indecision, but sooner or later,would drive to an inevitable destiny.
Kanan's arrival at the coliseum was as lively as the previous time. After all, a good punch is the best greeting for a good ork. Although having to give a hundred of them could be a bit cumbersome but, uh... they're Orks. That's how they are happy.
It didn't take long for Kanan to find a quiet place. Sitting from one of the stands I watched the orks fight tirelessly. Anyone would think they were crazy, but seeing them smile while receiving a blow to the head was a very contradictory scene. And soon, Murrey came and sat down next to his warlord.
Murrey: - Finally some peace of mind. -
Kanan: - A lot of things have happened. -
Murrey: - There's nothing like a good fight, but even the strongest need a good rest. -
Kanan: - Yes... The strongest. -
Murrey's sad tone did not go unnoticed by Murrey. Turning his gaze, he could see Kanan staring into the endless artificial sky of the craftworld. Lost in thought... And there was only one thing he could be thinking about at that moment... Kurnet... David... and the rest of the horde.
Murrey: - Do you think we'll see them again? -
Kanan: - I... I don't know... -
Both Kanan and Murrey let out a heavy sigh. The memory of the past was as warm as it was sad. Remembering the events on Atem III, how they were banished from the battlefield so abruptly was a painful sensation both physically and mentally. But not as much as the uncertainty of the fate of the rest of his people.
Right:-Murrey... - He addressed his subordinate and most confidant friend with a doubtful tone, but determined not to back down. - There is something I must tell you... Something I had to tell you a long time ago.
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https://youtu.be/CQgUEL7Jiqk
Meanwhile, through the dark and grim halls of one of the most terrifying places in Commorragh, a wandering soul wandered like a lurking shadow in the midnight darkness. Corridors infested by the foul smell of fresh blood, where grotesque sculptures of flesh and blood were molded to decorate gloomy black walls. Statues of flesh... alive.
The shadow moved as part of the darkness itself. He was one with the shadow and the shadow was him. An architect of the performance and interpretation of the Thirsty. Her walk was a balletic step, her turns majestic and almost divine. His hands danced in harmonious movements while the daggers he carried between his fingers danced in time with the most dramatic melodies. And in their wake... the unfortunate warriorsdrukharis who guarded the place lost their lives with primordial elegance.
His dance was magnificent. His role on stage was vital. He knew he wasn't the protagonist, and yet,would cheer all the applause from the public... Of course... If the bodiesdeformed whatthey formed the living statues of the place were able to applaud at its presentation. A soul made for the big stage... One that would shine in the darkest shadows of the curtain... One in whose handsaccording to the mold the very destiny of the galaxy.
But every performance has its grand finale. The architect of such a spectacular display of grace had concluded with a majestic fourth ballet pose. His left hand raised, his right hand on his abdomen. Her legs were straight, but twisted into shapes that seemed unnatural, but absurdly elegant. And there, at the end of a hallway where the bloodDrukhari adorning the elegant ancestral floor, the Solitary bowed while he could hear the applause of his non-existent audience.
But his role was over. The music inside his mind had stopped, and now it was time for the second act. The clock had moved its hands and it was time for the new actor to take the stage. But for that, it was first necessary to remove the chains that held him.
The doors of a dark chamber slowly opened, while the slender and enigmatic figure of the Solitaire was present in the place. The smell of blood was intense, and you could hear the cries of those who were once living beings... now... no more than other dystopian aberrations of flesh that decorated the wall of such a dismal place. A room where souls went to ask for an eternal rest that would never be granted... All... Except for one.
????: - This time it was... sooner than expected. - A voice was heard as weak as it was inert, and at the same time as defiant as a raised sword.
The Solitaire did not say anything, he simply calmly advanced towards what was supposedly a containment chamber. A black sarcophagus of a colossal size over eight feet, the only opening being a simple hole where a single tired eye watched the strange masked aeldari approach.
?????: - Mmmm... You're not the host I expected... But still... just as enigmatic.
The Solitaire was an actor... A performer of the goddess of death... Not a careless chatterbox. The moment did not require his voice, but his actions. Powers beyond human understanding were battling in that hall. A being whose smiling god stretched out his hand at will, and a stone sarcophagus made with ancient technology. But at the end of the fleeting contest, it was the harlequin who emerged victorious.
The ancestral artifact of spectral bone burst into a thousand pieces, as if the force with which it was imbued had broken its atomic chains and consumed its stability. A huge being fell to the ground on its knees, bound to chains as heavy as the gravity of a sun and hard as adamantium. And yet, unable to resist the one-hit fury of theaeldari most powerful and mysterious of all.
The creature was free. A being that could change the galaxy was now loose in the city of Commorragh. A being like the galaxy had not been seen for millennia. A being... with many doubts in his very battered mind, and a lot of pain in his tortured body incapable of dying from pain.
?????: - Because? - It was the only thing he was able to ask.
Solitary: - Because my teacher wanted it that way. -
The imprisoned being was practically unable to move. His exposed body showed the torture of which he had been a victim, and yet, his will seemed to be perfectly intact. As if he had never forgotten who he was... or what he was supposed to do.
The Solitaire's masked eyes exchanged for long seconds. The prisoner had much to ask, and the harlequin had much more to hide. But giving him an answer was not his role in this presentation. His work was much simpler... and direct.
Suddenly, the prisoner looked down, when in front of him, a huge piece of metal hit the ground repeatedly. A piece he immediately recognized as soon as he saw it. A strange device, with dozens of tubular, needle-like spikes designed to penetrate flesh and cling to its wearer. One that, in exchange for your own suffering, would give you the power to save those most in need.
?????: - The... Engine of Afflictions. - He said with his voice barely audible.
Lonely: - Your time has come. The rest is up to you... Primarch of the Mon-Keight. -
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