Kabals of the Crossed Swords

[Dracon Jo're Hararesh]

Seeing as most of my fluff has supposedly disappeared off Aftermath I'm going to try to write some which sum up my Kabal(I hope).

[Dracon Jo're Hararesh]

Dracon Jo're looked down the street, it was totally disguised, he lent on the wall watching unsuspicious faces walk past. He held his blade underneath his cape every now and then swapping it discretly for a bottle and drawing that out and taking a sip. He saw one Eldar walk past, blade in hand and he shuffled only to realise it was no-one he loved or hated.
He saw the first Eldar come ou the door he paused for ten seconds then walk curiously up the street pass the first Eldar. He saw Gra'ith in the shadows shuffle slightly. One of the Eldar saw him too and walked over, pacing slowly. Jo're gripped his Flesh Blades tightly as the Eldar became aware of his warriors in the shadows and surrounded them. He saw the young Warrior, Hel'iph draw his splinter pistol, and in that split second Jo're's enemies lept onto his own men, Blades flying everywhere, as it happened other warriors from the Dracon Kabal poured out of everywhere only being sliced down by Archon Gli'fshest's Incubi. Jo're knew he had lost but he could save the lives of the final group, he ran from the area liked a scared citizen, he found the mandrakes running towards him 'Stop Stop' he cried pushing them away from the direction he was coming from, he did not want them dead.
He explained the sitiuation to his command, they could not leave the streets in vain, they waited a full hour before pacing up the road totally undisguised, blades drawn, the customised flesh blades dancing off the light that hit them. The blades where hard to see but easy to hear, making a shrieking noise as they came down on the flesh of enemies, Jo're's homemade blades struck fear in to the hearts of all.
Gli'fshest's men were still in the street covering the dead and healing their wounds. They saw Jo're coming up the path with pure anger on his face, he broke into a run, the wind whistling through the blades. As he came towards his enemies the whistles turned to shrieks and the enemies to blood.
Two hours later he stood in the same place he started, leaning against a wall looking down the blood ridden street, the bodies of his warriors and theirs strewn all around, Gli'fshest's body pinned to the building he was meant to be ambushed from. He had won but he was left with only 52 Mandrakes out off over 200 men, he turned to go back to his halls, the disputed area was now his but he could not control it all, he would meet up with Ra'Star allies to discuss a closer allegiance.

[Dracon Jo're Hararesh]

Dracon Jo're paced into his chambers 10 mandrakes following in perfect discipline, he stopped at the doorway and 8 of the mandrakes slipped into the room silently taking up garrison in the shadows, the other two followed the hem of Jo're's cape as he strode to his seat, the Ra'Star representative wasn't here yet, it was a waiting game. Jo're had not long been a member of the Ra'Star and he needed their assurance that the mutual agreement between him and Est'vou Mansion would be welcomed in the Council. His Kabal needed a solid force for outright war down on Aftermath, and his close allies needed an elite support to their men. Est'vou Mansion was willing to offer him open arms but only if they would gain protection, and this protection took away valued men from Ra'Star causes, but Jo're knew it would help 10 times more. He brushed back his long hair and rested, he didn't know what day the representative was coming, he had already spent 5 nights in his seat waiting, impatient, he knew secretly this was the difference between life and death for his kabal's future.

[Dracon Jo're Hararesh]

Jo're walked out onto the deck, he saw them, lines and lines of raiders, they're crews armd bloodied. He walked past them, his own face torn, the dark city in his mind, they had fought, his friends, for they're lives, pinned down in the webway, no way out, then they we're forced out of it. They had fought valiently, but the other commanders had died, he was the only Dracon or Archon left in this camp, how his blind kin had picked out the leaders was beyond him, he cursed his luck slicing a whole in the hull of a raider, the crew looked at him, he was lost, he ran to the exit, tears in his eyes, he was angry, he knew soon the orks would find them camps on Alsantra, he remembered things from the past, they haunted him, he ran to the prisoner transports, he needed some form of relaxation, before the orks came and he would have to convince them to fight for their passage back to the webway on the planet of Aftermath, he knew they would, he could convince them, his transport would be full of mandrakes hidden, but they would be strong, none of his guard had died when the Craftworlders targetted him. He had ripped through their lines, and he had the scars to show for it, he grabbed a blade, and took down a young eldar, her pain would give him relaxation enough to plan his next devious task..

[Dracon Jo're Hararesh]

Jo're looked into the darkness, mandrakes creeping accross the plains, the imperial base in the distance guards patrolling, he turned to the young eldar next to him, waiting with a sniping rifle to pick off a guard at a time, the Dracon gave the signal and soon there was a cry of distress coming from a turret, one of the gunners was taken out, but another was taking his place, and spot lights where being switched on, the mandrakes knew exactly what to do, one rolled down the hill he had just reached the top of, others flung themselves to the ground, some just stood there, they knew they could not be seen, how they did it even Jo're did not know, but he credited them for it, it was so obvious to him, but not to their enemies. Jo're stopped thinking, the lights where on him, and imperials where stirring, they could see him, but he just stood there, a bullet ripped through his cape. He remained in his spot. Two scores of men poured out the gates towards him, and still he remained, as they raised their lasguns to him, 40 jetbikes spun out of the darkness, simply ripping the men to shreds, clubs and chains assisting them. Huge commotion was heard in the base. Jo're was still standing there emotionless. The mandrakes continued on forward, he turned back to the young eldar sniper who had put the rifle away. They drew their flesh blades in syncronisation.
Running foward Jo're's flesh blades whistled perfectly, the air was alight with noise, the imperials where terrified, jetbikes, poured into the gates, mandrakes scaled walls, but Jo're simply guided himself past the petrified imperials, straight into the hangars, and there it was, a barely guarded fleet with a full escort, he looked out a window, and saw lines of raiders filing into the base, it was theirs and soon they would begin their journey out of Ultima to the Eye and to the Sentinel Worlds.

[Dracon Jo're Hararesh]

Fierce winds ripped past the Dracon's face, the cold and snow was like none ever seen to his men, the mere blizzards of the research station on Aftermath did not compare. The Dracon sliced his blades into the ice which had formed around a body, obviously from many years past. The wind no longer whistled through his blades, they were frozen over, even if they did he couldn't hear them for the winds. Jo're looked at the skull faced Ork lying before him. This can't of been the Molov that the Ra'Star had spoken of.
One of the Warriors shouted at him in anger 'You've been tricked Dracon, that [censored] 'nid must of corrupted Lady No'ki and the other Archon, he's sent us to our death.'
Jo'e ignored the comments bu the other men didn't, they started cursing the nid on the council. But Jo're kept walking through the winds. Suddenly he saw objects moving, they were near. Possibly on of the Ra'Star. He heard human voices, they were so near yet sounded so distant due to the winds. He knew exactly where they were, on Valhalla, they had be thrown off course. If the Imperials were to just move 20 metres in his direction they would make out the shape of 20 raiders sitting in the snow. His fleets scout party.
He had to risk attacking them blind to their numbers or positions. He ran back to the soldiers.
'Shut up' he cried explaining their positions.
'But most of our guns won't work' cried the mouthy young warrior,
'were stuck using anything you cant mount on you raider near to the heaters, blades and anyything you can pick up.' He chucked the mouthy one the dead Orks axe before he voiced his concerns. Jo're walked to the transports containing his Mandrakes and got in, they set of to explore how big this group of men were, they soon found out. 500 strong with two Leman Russes. Jo're knew the Warriors would be attacking in only seconds, he also knew they would run at the sight of the Russes. The Mandrakes needed to be quick, no shadows held these lands.
He heard the cry of several humans falling to blades mounted guns and the like. And as his party approached he saw the massed response of the men. His Mandrakes were quick, moving silently they slit the throats of the onlooking men nearest first, the rest oblivious just watching the sdirection the other Dark Eldar came from. But one Mandrake tripped, Jo're saw the danger, the men turned, he rushed straight at one, jumping feet first into his twisted back, killing him instantly, with a flourish of blades the Mandrakes moved more professionly, there was no throat slitting now just well timed moves decapitating those that opposed. Jo're himself jumped to the motionless Leman Russ, placing ignitions whereever he could. He jumped off as the only wary passenger tried to escape being ripped off the vehicle moments later. Jo're grinned, but he knew the Guard would f heard the explosion. He could see there figures lined perfectly firing in sychronisation, but soon there was terror, bodies where flung everywhere, he heard two explosions in the distance. And another explosion, Valhallans we flung everywhere, dead or fleeing Jo're knew victory was his, he continued slicing, the winds calming down as he sliced back and forth. Soon there were none left, he ran to the distance, killing three humans as he went, and soon found a sorry sight around him, warriors flung everywhere, in an area marked out by two smouldering Raiders and the Charred remains of another Leman Russ, it was over but not without signifcant losses. Now he had to get to Molov right this time. Already the figures of Chaos would be charging to it in masses out of Emperors Storm.

[Dracon Jo're Hararesh]

The young mandrake fell silently from the upper window, he had reached his target. He crouched on the soft fabric flooring of this master bedroom, crawling siletly towards the numb figure in the bed. The Archon lying there twisted violently as the mandrakes figure leered over. The mandrake shut his eyes, dramatising the situation, held his silent blades and went to slice straight through the Archon's throat. The sleeping child moved just at the right time, a blade drove through his shoulder. In an instant he was back into his adult proweress, leaping at the mandrake. But the assasin moved quickly disarming the Archon who brought him to the ground. The mandrake lay there for a split second, back to the stunned target. He heard the leader going to get up, with a quick spin the mandrake thrust the bottom of his palm into the ribs of the climbing Archon, the force pushing the archon backwards into the chamber wall. The mandrake redrew his flesh blades and violently sliced at the Archons figure, slicing at the throat, the heart the face. In a flurry of mechanical cries the flesh blades had finished their task, but soon the cries had alerted near by guards, the mandrake ran out into the corridor, to his left a large stained glass window, casting an eerie red and green onto the hall, to his right doors, so many doors. On crashed open, three incubi emerging, the mandrake dispatched them in a flurry of stabs and kicks. The only one conscious ran down the corridor screaming. The mandrake made no split second desicions, he was already there, jumping through the window into the grounds below, Wiping the blood from his face and shoulder he submerged into shadows and paced quietly and calmly from the scene.