Post by Hellbrass Odesseron on Dec 11, 2004 11:23:38 GMT
My fluff is never good but all this time away I couldnt help but write something about coming back. Its been to long...
“It has been said before that the Dark Eldar are not creatures of shadow, but that it serves us well; I come before you today to correct that statement. We are the Warriors of Darkness; we are fear, terror and dread personified. No longer will I permit our kind to creep around in the shadows cast by the newborn races. We worship no deity and no power but the Dark and from the Dark all things are spawned and by the Dark all things come to an end. We are the only followers of the true power, the Godless power. Accept this one truth and we will become unstoppable.”
Twisted night. Shadows in the dark. Pain, in sufferable pain. Blinding light! What a mistake it had been to leave the city, to leave the safety of that tower. Hellbrass stood on the daemon world of Thanran, a flat disk of nothingness so intensely non-existent that it had form. Nothing touched him, nothing lived there and he stood totally still but yet he was fighting the greatest battle in his long existence for it was the battle of the mind. Not a battle of the mind for we all battle lesser daemons each day, every doubt, every nagging guilt. No, this was the battle of the mind. No enemy had broken into his head but yet battle he must.
Thoughts, emotions, memories. They flew from side to side within his head. The Chaos had twisted him beyond imagine, his once great body was nothing but a shattered husk, a bundle of skin and bone inside that ornately carved flexi armour. His mind to had been tormented beyond reason and under the pressures of the Chaos forces it had shattered. Now mind after mind after mind flooded from nothing into something, each fighting for control none knowing which was the first, which was Hellbrass.
His head felt like it was burning, voices, so many voices! He fell to his knees and collapsed as his weakened muscles and hyperactive nerves were unable to support the weight and pain, for however tiny the pain it felt like a haemonculi blade to him. Around him the nothingness drew deeper into non-existence and became closer to reality, such is the twisted nature of the eye. What deity had grasped the desolate world he did not no but there was one thing that was evident to even the crazed half-corpse, he could take no more punishment, no more Chaos.
The voices grew louder inside his head, but now they were screaming and thud, he was one of the voices again, no longer in control. Thought after thought shattered against his subconscious walls like cannons against a fortress and he retaliated with a bombardment of thought and emotion. He was the true Hellbrass and he would not die here in the very home of his greatest enemy without an ounce of strength or sanity! With an almighty effort he threw aside the voices once more and pushed them deep into is subconscious, he could not last any more. He had learned much of Chaos and much of the old Eldar but at what cost? He could not last any longer.
In the eye nothing obeys the laws of nature, not even the ancient Webway. In a moment of crystal thought he focused his mind on the ever twisting pathways of clarity throughout the warp. His body reverberating with the effort and his mind screaming that he did not have the strength he brought his consciousness to bare. Slowly, painstakingly he dragged one of the twisting paths towards him. Inch by excruciating inch it came closer until it rested straight through him.
He body writhed uncontrollably in the effort of commanding his mind for this long but he forced the voices within deeper and commanded the Webway to open. Nothing. No movement. No shimmer in the air. He tried harder but to no avail. Tears began to roll down his scared and mutilated face as he pushed his mind out into the warp and suddenly wham. He was there, in the tunnel. Racing, falling, twisting, turning and crack! He hit the floor of the all to familiar room. He crawled to the side and reached out.
Suddenly his body was wracked with another bout of pain and his mind sank once more into the realms of Chaos, again and again the voices came at him, the daemons within. He fought but he could not win. With a final scream he let himself fall and as he slipped into unconscious battle his hand fell onto the elaborately crafted button. With a hiss a white light began to seep from the edges of the switch…
The tower stood tall among the smaller structures around it but yet unlike them it had nothing with in. All the other buildings emitted a faint glow, that ethereal presents that surrounds all things occupied by the living, the glowing of souls. It was not the fact that the tower was unoccupied frightened most into not entering; it was the fact that the tower was more than empty; it was the fact that it was full.
Although empty of life the bodies of the warriors and followers of Archon Odesseron littered the halls, not dead but simply empty of life for the body lives without a soul and will rise again with the restoration of one. No one knows how the dreaded sleep came about but it is known when. The warriors of Perpetual Twilight sealed the doors after the departure of the last Archon of the Kabal of Perpetual Twilight and the aura of flame that is the soul fire of life slowly dwindled and left the building over the many years that followed.
The solitary Wych sat and pondered as to the meaning of this and the decline of the Ra’Star, for it was true that the council had passed through much hardship with the loss of almost all the council members although rumours were abound that Archon No’ki had restored order and even now prepared for war against the misguided kin.
Wyches seldom stop to think about the politics of the great city around them but this Wych had had a special bond with that dark tower and times were not good for those who had been associated with the dread lords of the Ra’Star.
As she sat pondering her next move a faint but unmistakable shadow caught her eye. She turned to look but the glimmer was gone, an illusion of the light perhaps. But no. It was there again. The chamber room, the seat of power of the Kabal, a small, almost unrecognisable glow moved slowly to the side of the camber. Suddenly there was a blinding flash of soul flame; it flooded down the building until the entire tower was wreathed in a ghostly blaze. As the light abated you could feel the charged atmosphere of the city, none had escaped the eminence feeling of power. The tower breathed again, but how? And why?
Unexpectedly another tower erupted into light. The dormant tower of the Archon Zylath, the first Dracon under Hellbrass and now Archon of his own great and powerful Kabal. That tower to had lain dormant but now to restored itself. What was the meaning of this? Were the Ra’Star returning? If so who was raising them for surely the dread lords had not returned for they went into the darkness without a light and none have yet found their way back from within the depths of the eye without help…
All around the Dark City bells began to toll, not the bells found on the mon-keigh worlds but the bells of twisted darkness, eerie and silent in always but the way of the spirit. Bells that made your insides reverberate and your head scream as if it would burst. They were the bells of the Ra’Star.
Twice before had they been rung, once when the twisted minions of Chaos broke the gate when the misguided marched against us. Secondly in the aftermath of the war when all sides were weak, we took vengeance on the minions of She who Thirsts. Now they ring again. The beginning of the third war of the Ra’Star.
The Misguided are weak and the Dark Eldar have grown. The old Kabals return and the time is right, we will take back what was ours and take the lives of those who took it for now is the time. Let the third of the Wars of Darkness begin.
The rest is written in deeds not words…
“It has been said before that the Dark Eldar are not creatures of shadow, but that it serves us well; I come before you today to correct that statement. We are the Warriors of Darkness; we are fear, terror and dread personified. No longer will I permit our kind to creep around in the shadows cast by the newborn races. We worship no deity and no power but the Dark and from the Dark all things are spawned and by the Dark all things come to an end. We are the only followers of the true power, the Godless power. Accept this one truth and we will become unstoppable.”
Twisted night. Shadows in the dark. Pain, in sufferable pain. Blinding light! What a mistake it had been to leave the city, to leave the safety of that tower. Hellbrass stood on the daemon world of Thanran, a flat disk of nothingness so intensely non-existent that it had form. Nothing touched him, nothing lived there and he stood totally still but yet he was fighting the greatest battle in his long existence for it was the battle of the mind. Not a battle of the mind for we all battle lesser daemons each day, every doubt, every nagging guilt. No, this was the battle of the mind. No enemy had broken into his head but yet battle he must.
Thoughts, emotions, memories. They flew from side to side within his head. The Chaos had twisted him beyond imagine, his once great body was nothing but a shattered husk, a bundle of skin and bone inside that ornately carved flexi armour. His mind to had been tormented beyond reason and under the pressures of the Chaos forces it had shattered. Now mind after mind after mind flooded from nothing into something, each fighting for control none knowing which was the first, which was Hellbrass.
His head felt like it was burning, voices, so many voices! He fell to his knees and collapsed as his weakened muscles and hyperactive nerves were unable to support the weight and pain, for however tiny the pain it felt like a haemonculi blade to him. Around him the nothingness drew deeper into non-existence and became closer to reality, such is the twisted nature of the eye. What deity had grasped the desolate world he did not no but there was one thing that was evident to even the crazed half-corpse, he could take no more punishment, no more Chaos.
The voices grew louder inside his head, but now they were screaming and thud, he was one of the voices again, no longer in control. Thought after thought shattered against his subconscious walls like cannons against a fortress and he retaliated with a bombardment of thought and emotion. He was the true Hellbrass and he would not die here in the very home of his greatest enemy without an ounce of strength or sanity! With an almighty effort he threw aside the voices once more and pushed them deep into is subconscious, he could not last any more. He had learned much of Chaos and much of the old Eldar but at what cost? He could not last any longer.
In the eye nothing obeys the laws of nature, not even the ancient Webway. In a moment of crystal thought he focused his mind on the ever twisting pathways of clarity throughout the warp. His body reverberating with the effort and his mind screaming that he did not have the strength he brought his consciousness to bare. Slowly, painstakingly he dragged one of the twisting paths towards him. Inch by excruciating inch it came closer until it rested straight through him.
He body writhed uncontrollably in the effort of commanding his mind for this long but he forced the voices within deeper and commanded the Webway to open. Nothing. No movement. No shimmer in the air. He tried harder but to no avail. Tears began to roll down his scared and mutilated face as he pushed his mind out into the warp and suddenly wham. He was there, in the tunnel. Racing, falling, twisting, turning and crack! He hit the floor of the all to familiar room. He crawled to the side and reached out.
Suddenly his body was wracked with another bout of pain and his mind sank once more into the realms of Chaos, again and again the voices came at him, the daemons within. He fought but he could not win. With a final scream he let himself fall and as he slipped into unconscious battle his hand fell onto the elaborately crafted button. With a hiss a white light began to seep from the edges of the switch…
The tower stood tall among the smaller structures around it but yet unlike them it had nothing with in. All the other buildings emitted a faint glow, that ethereal presents that surrounds all things occupied by the living, the glowing of souls. It was not the fact that the tower was unoccupied frightened most into not entering; it was the fact that the tower was more than empty; it was the fact that it was full.
Although empty of life the bodies of the warriors and followers of Archon Odesseron littered the halls, not dead but simply empty of life for the body lives without a soul and will rise again with the restoration of one. No one knows how the dreaded sleep came about but it is known when. The warriors of Perpetual Twilight sealed the doors after the departure of the last Archon of the Kabal of Perpetual Twilight and the aura of flame that is the soul fire of life slowly dwindled and left the building over the many years that followed.
The solitary Wych sat and pondered as to the meaning of this and the decline of the Ra’Star, for it was true that the council had passed through much hardship with the loss of almost all the council members although rumours were abound that Archon No’ki had restored order and even now prepared for war against the misguided kin.
Wyches seldom stop to think about the politics of the great city around them but this Wych had had a special bond with that dark tower and times were not good for those who had been associated with the dread lords of the Ra’Star.
As she sat pondering her next move a faint but unmistakable shadow caught her eye. She turned to look but the glimmer was gone, an illusion of the light perhaps. But no. It was there again. The chamber room, the seat of power of the Kabal, a small, almost unrecognisable glow moved slowly to the side of the camber. Suddenly there was a blinding flash of soul flame; it flooded down the building until the entire tower was wreathed in a ghostly blaze. As the light abated you could feel the charged atmosphere of the city, none had escaped the eminence feeling of power. The tower breathed again, but how? And why?
Unexpectedly another tower erupted into light. The dormant tower of the Archon Zylath, the first Dracon under Hellbrass and now Archon of his own great and powerful Kabal. That tower to had lain dormant but now to restored itself. What was the meaning of this? Were the Ra’Star returning? If so who was raising them for surely the dread lords had not returned for they went into the darkness without a light and none have yet found their way back from within the depths of the eye without help…
All around the Dark City bells began to toll, not the bells found on the mon-keigh worlds but the bells of twisted darkness, eerie and silent in always but the way of the spirit. Bells that made your insides reverberate and your head scream as if it would burst. They were the bells of the Ra’Star.
Twice before had they been rung, once when the twisted minions of Chaos broke the gate when the misguided marched against us. Secondly in the aftermath of the war when all sides were weak, we took vengeance on the minions of She who Thirsts. Now they ring again. The beginning of the third war of the Ra’Star.
The Misguided are weak and the Dark Eldar have grown. The old Kabals return and the time is right, we will take back what was ours and take the lives of those who took it for now is the time. Let the third of the Wars of Darkness begin.
The rest is written in deeds not words…
;D ;D