Archon Ahkrenath
Warrior
Archon Ahkrenath, Archon of the Death's Twilight Kabal
Posts: 54
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Post by Archon Ahkrenath on Feb 4, 2005 2:25:58 GMT
Ahkrenath sat deep in thought. A craftworlder, here ... why would he come? What does he want? A group of blank-eyed mon-keigh resembling mindless automatons was polishing the floor in Ahkrenath's throne room, and was being taunted by some of his guard. Dracon Desarothe was encouraging this behavior while carrying on a chat with Ahkrenath. "So a craftworlder is here, so what! Craftworlders have been here before and they never pose a threat. We have no reason to fear them, especially in our own city. I do-"
Ahkrenath raised his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Pride goes before the fall. Kelanirosh failed to realize that and he is now dead or in a far worse condition. No, I will not give in to my belief in the Dark City." Desarothe started throwing darts at the monkeigh as they worked, causing some of them to scuttle around like frantic insects that were trying to avoid being smashed; others continued their routine tasks as if nothing was going on; it was only another part of the routine. "The Dark City is insurmountable by any attack from outside. Any physical attack, but that leaves out so many, and our laughing kin are one of those left out. No, I won't take my chances. "
Ahkrenath drank some Veirillian wine. As he put it down, the wine left his lips a red color, as if he had been drinking blood. "Go meet our guests."
Desarothe threw another dart, hitting a monkeigh in the spine, crippling it. A second dart went through another slave's left hand and into the obsidian floor. "Stop doing that. Look what you've done ... the floor is stained." As Desarothe went to retrieve the darts and kill the mon-keigh, Ahkrenath stood up and pointed towards the one with the dart through his hand. "Don't kill him. Take the dart out and cut off his hand. It won't be of use anyway. Send the other to Khazir. Tell him to prepare him for the slaves' next few meals. He should have all the nutrients they would need anyway."
Desarothe looked at the monkeigh and then drew out the dart from each in turn; clearly unconcerned with the pain this caused, dissappointed that the paralyzed slave could not feel the pain, while enjoying the screams from the mon-keigh that wasn’t paralyzed. As guards took the paralyzed mon-keigh to Khazir before any more of the slave's blood could fall on the obsidian, Desarothe drew a short sword from a scabbard at his side and cut the slave's left hand off.
As Desarothe finished, he headed back towards Ahkrenath. Ahkrenath dropped some of his wine on the floor seemingly without a care. "Give the slave his hand back and tell him to clean up the mess he made with it as well as this wine. When he is done send him to Khazir as well."
Desarothe quickly gave orders to have the slave clean the mess with his own left hand, tossing it back to the shocked slave. Blood was still dripping from his arm adding to the mess and saturating the hand with blood, the pale skin had turned red as gore fused with flesh: a truly bloody hand. Finally Desarothe had the mon-keigh use his hand to clean the spilled wine, taking the hand back as the mon-keigh finished. As Desarothe had the slave sent to the haemonculus he juggled the slave's hand back and forth. Then he grabbed it in his right hand and turned to Ahkrenath. "What do you want me to do with this?"
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Desarothe entered a resplendent reception room, adorned with various blades and weapons. The room was designed to show the power of the Death's Twilight Kabal as well as give any member of the Kabal a wide range of weapons to use if necessary. He was flanked by some of Ahkrenath's warriors and guard as well as his own incubi. Desarothe quickly made eyes with everyone in the room, noting the presence of a Solitaire and a Great Harlequin. "Hello my kin. I am Dracon Desarothe of the Death's Twilight Kabal and I am here as representative of Archon Ahkrenath. What is it that you wish of my lord?"
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Archon Ahkrenath
Warrior
Archon Ahkrenath, Archon of the Death's Twilight Kabal
Posts: 54
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Post by Archon Ahkrenath on Feb 4, 2005 2:26:44 GMT
The Great Harlequin walked towards Dracon Desarothe, causing Desarothe’s incubi to form in closer around him. Warriors of the Death’s Twilight Kabal raised their rifles; some aimed at the Great Harlequin; some aimed at the other harlequins; some aimed at each other or Desarothe and his incubi. The Great Harlequin spoke in a voice that was laced with mild amusement, “I would prefer to confer with Archon Ahkrenath himself.”
“He is busy,” said Desarothe.
“I see. Well, Dracon Desarothe, I hear that the Death’s Twilight Kabal is growing strong.”
Desarothe smiled. “We have always been strong.”
“I have heard many other things … some of what I have heard would interest Archon Ahkrenath greatly.”
Desarothe spoke harshly, “I already said that Archon Ahkrenath is busy.”
“So you did … as I said, I have heard that the Death’s Twilight Kabal is growing strong; I have also heard that Archon Ahkrenath’s star rises with his Kabal,” the Great Harlequin added a calming quality to his voice.
“As it shall continue to, but what concern is this of yours, laughing one?”
“It is of mild interest honestly, however nothing stays the same … no nothing is forever the same. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Desarothe was growing tired of the word games. He reflected his annoyance by adding a rough quality to his voice, “What is it that you want?”
“I was enjoying talking to a Dracon. Still I would like to talk to Ahkrenath. He would find what I have to say most important. He would not want anyone to hear such information.”
Desarothe could not see the Great Harlequin’s face, which was hidden behind a mask of ever-shifting colors and images, but he felt that the eyes behind the mask were staring at the warriors and at the incubi simultaneously. A voice crackled in Desarothe’s helmet, “I will see the Harlequins; if they do not have a message of importance then we can get rid of them.”
Desarothe smiled inwardly. He hoped that he would be the one to get rid of the harlequins. They were a nuisance and their word-games annoyed him. He felt like they were trying to outsmart him. His preferred method of conflict was not debate.
“Archon Ahkrenath will grant you an audience. Follow me,” said Desarothe. The harlequins began to follow after the Dracon, and the Druchii warriors followed suit, seemingly disappointed that no blood had been spilt.
The Great Harlequin waited quietly as the others went into another room. The Solitaire walked past the Great Harlequin slowly, forming a hidden message with his footsteps that only the Great Harlequin could decode. That one is dangerous. He is also foolish. The great Harlequin nodded so slightly that he was unsure if the Solitaire even noticed his agreement.
A final figure passed the Great Harlequin. The figure looked like a normal trouper, but the Great Harlequin recognized him by his walk, which was unnaturally quiet. The figure’s hand was moving back and forth in an intricate pattern that seemed random and natural. Time seemed to slow as the Great Harlequin read the message hidden within the movement. This seemed easy enough, but make sure you know what to do if we fail.
As the figure made his way in to the next room, the Great Harlequin scanned the room one last time. He noticed many of the remaining guards looked like they were ready to shoot him. It was their method of persuasion, and the Great Harlequin assumed it was effective when in the Dark City. Quietly he made his way into the next room.
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Ahkrenath had been watching the dialogue between Desarothe and the Great Harlequin through a hidden vid-screen that was built into his throne. The Great Harlequin’s words had interested Ahkrenath.
As the dialogue between Desarothe and the Great Harlequin came to an end, Ahkrenath took a stimulant pill to counteract any effects the alcohol might have on his judgment. He did not want his mind to be clouded by alcohol to the point where he was hardly better than Desarothe. Ahkrenath slowly reclined back in his throne, waiting for the harlequins to enter his throne room.
He did not have to wait long. The troupe of harlequins entered a few minutes later. Desarothe walked towards Ahkrenath, followed closely by the Great Harlequin and the Solitaire. Another figure, looking uniquely set apart from the other troupers, was behind the Great Harlequin.
Ahkrenath stood up and motioned for the normal warriors to leave the room the same way they had entered it. Ahkrenath ordered the incubi to form a gauntlet around the main entrance to the throne room, before turning to the harlequin leaders. “It seems you know me, but I do not know you. What are your names and what are your intentions?”
The unique figure that stood out from the other three replied in a formal voice that he seemed well accustomed to, “His name is Siolka.” He pointed to the Solitaire while continuing to speak. “His name is Rethian.” He pointed to the Great Harlequin. “And my name is Ioneth.”
Ahkrenath directed his question towards Rethian, “Why does this trouper speak for you?”
“He is far more than he appears and he speaks of his own accord. He doesn’t require my permission to take action or to speak his mind,” said Rethian.
“Do not make me lament seeing you. Now come this way.” Ahkrenath walked to a side corridor. Ioneth, Rethian, and Siolka followed him. Desarothe followed the three guests, using his narrow, but tactical brain to assess the threat each of the three represented.
Ahkrenath turned back and looked at the captain of his guard, Durizhar Kashar. “Durizhar come with us.” Ahkrenath looked at other members of his personal guard and pointed to two he distrusted the least. “Have them come as well.” Durizhar ordered the two Druchii Ahkrenath was pointing at, to come with him. They followed, seemingly annoyed that they were being forced to come along.
The eight figures continued down the corridor, disappearing from view as they progressed further along. Behind them, Ahkrenath’s throne cast a long shadow over the floor. The shadow grew larger until it seemed to consume all of those who were within Ahkrenath’s domain.
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Archon Ahkrenath
Warrior
Archon Ahkrenath, Archon of the Death's Twilight Kabal
Posts: 54
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Post by Archon Ahkrenath on Feb 4, 2005 2:27:56 GMT
As the long corridor came to an end, the eight Eldar entered a large rotunda. It was littered with trophies of conquest; captured weapons and armor were on display; gruesome talismans of terror, ranging from bloody weapons to the heads of fallen enemies were on raised pedestals that sharply protruded from the even floor. Torn banners from many armies and many worlds stood in silent vigil, watching as the Eldar walked through the room: a quiet testament to cruelty, destruction, and war. Draperies of regal blue and seductive scarlet ran down from some unseen perch high above; an invisible wind pushed them back and forth in a ghostly dance. The ceiling was like an unreachable point that continued infinitely upwards trying to distance itself from the stain of cruelty that was below. In the center of the room was a large dais that dominated the entire room. Four pillars, seemingly diminished in its shadow, flanked it.
Ahkrenath walked to the center of the dais, followed closely by the Durizhar. The two guards who had been chosen to join the group stayed at the entrance to the room. Desarothe stayed behind the three “guests”, continuing his threat assessment. The three Harlequins stood in place.
Ahkrenath sighed inwardly. His voice echoed as he addressed the Harlequins, “Come here!”
As Rethian, Siolka, Ioneth, and Desarothe walked towards the dais, Ioneth noticed several statues of the Kabal’s enemies, each wearing a terrified visage. Ioneth realized that the statues had been prisoners, tortured and then slowly petrified: a unique form of torture with lasting results. Ioneth continued walking forward, ignoring the cold stare he received from Desarothe.
Desarothe was the last to reach the dais. He had taken his helmet off, revealing his face. He wore his black-brown hair long. His skin was pale and sharply contrasted by his deep, midnight blue eyes. His features were as rough as his nature. His teeth were as sharp as knives and as bright as recently cleaned swords, shining underneath the mid-day sun.
Ahkrenath was also de-helmed. He had short, dark black hair. His skin was lightly tanned and gave off a pale radiance. His eyes were an almond color. He had delicate and refined features as if a sculptor had fashioned his face out of marble, driving a spark of divinity into every facet. His teeth were immaculate: two semi-circles of pearls.
Ahkrenath wore dark blue mesh armor. Over the mesh armor was a light suit of scale armor that was the same color as Desarothe’s eyes. A regal blue cape descended from Ahkrenath’s shoulders, swaying back and forth behind him as it neared, but never touched, the ground. It seemed caught in his gravity, just like so many other things.
The guards at the entrance to the rotunda stared at Ahkrenath and the others expectantly, foolishly hoping to overhear the conversation. They were disappointed. Ahkrenath hit a rune on one of the pillars. An energy field suddenly formed between the pillars, enclosing the dais. As the shield surrounded the Eldar, Ioneth felt a sharp pain near the back of his skull. For a moment he put his hand to his head.
Rethian spoke in a mildly inquisitive voice that nevertheless seemed bland, “What is this barrier?” Durizhar spoke with a lecturing voice that seemed to poke fun at Rethian, as if he was an ignorant youth, “It is a no-barrier. It prevents psychic intrusion and keeps sound within the barrier. Any practicing psyker would find close proximity to it most unpleasant as it-,”
As Durizhar spoke, Ahkrenath noticed Ioneth’s pain and smirked inwardly. That one must be a shadowseer. Why would they bring one of those here?
Ahkrenath noticed the Harlequins listening intently to Durizhar; he didn’t want the secrets of the no-barrier technology falling in to the hands of others. Quickly he intervened, speaking with a cold tone, “There is no reason to bore them to death; there are more enjoyable ways to die.” Desarothe’s eyes lit up at the mention of death.
Ahkrenath addressed Rethian, “So what important information do you claim to have, laughing one.”
“I have much important information. What information is important to you?”
“Much information is important to me, however I don’t want to hear your entire life-story. What information did you come to present to me?”
“That depends on what is important to you; perhaps I have no information to present to you. What do you want to know, honored archon?”
“Laughing one, do not test my patience, it is short but your life may well be shorter and I assure you such a death would not be short. Tell me what information you have, and I will rate its importance; if you disappoint me I will teach you why to avoid disappointment, permanently!”
Rethian decided to get to the point. “Well, honored archon, I have a great deal to tell and you will not be disappointed, though perhaps surprised.”
Desarothe nodded. “Get on with it, laughing one!” Clearly he already wanted blood, and the dialogue was boring him.
“Yes, well the Kabal of Death’s Twilight has been rising and continues to do so in the ever-shifting political and military machinations of the City of Eternal Night.”
“Yes I know,” said Ahkrenath.
“You already said this,” replied Desarothe.
Durizhar was quiet.
“Well no doubt you have noticed your rise to the top has been moving slower. There is increased competition; more power is at stake. Many Kabals would like to see you fall. The information I have is on one such Kabal. Already, secretly, they plot to destroy you.”
Ahkrenath asked, “And who are they?”
“They would be the Kabal of the Poisoned Talon … they wish to stop your ascent, and they are not alone. Archon Sevril is the leader of the Poisoned Talon. She is conspiring with other Kabals to destroy you.”
“So what?! We have defeated plenty of other Kabals; they will be no different!”
Ahkrenath was not as confident. “And what are you proposing, laughing one?”
“We propose nothing. We have information on all of the Kabals that conspire against you; we know their weaknesses, their strengths, and their desires,” said Rethian.
“Such information could prove useful, but it will not stop the forces arrayed against us,” said Durizhar.
Ahkrenath made a dismissive gesture with his left hand. “Yes it does. The Kabal of the Poisoned Talon is the head; if you take away the head, the body falls.” Rethian nodded. “Conspiracies may be common in Commoragh, however conspirators quickly drop out when their leader is destroyed and when they are faced with exposure.”
“Laughing one, you propose that we destroy the Kabal of the Poisoned Talon?” Desarothe asked antagonistically.
“You have proposed that; I have proposed nothing,” Rethian slyly said, slowly walking around the fringe of the dais.
“And what do you expect to get by giving us this information, harlequin?” asked Ahkrenath.
“Your fall would be unfortunate.”
“Do not expect us to owe you a favor,” Desarothe sharply interjected.
“We do not expect, nor do we want any of your favors.” “Then let us discuss Sevril and her Kabal,” said Ahkrenath.
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