CHAPTER THREE: The Soul Shrine (1.5)
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Em felt the danger of the situation - he could see the masked Eldar faces turning to them, and he could sense that the wrong word would...
Would it truly spell doom?
Imagine if you were in a room of the Sisters of Battle, and they offered you a drink from the Chalice and you set it aside as if it was nothing - they'd have you before the Repentia before you knew what happened, Em thought. He tried to transpose this over and thus, put the right level of solemnity to his words as he bowed his head.
"We accept you, Teyarch of the Fire Dragons, Young King in Waiting." Em stood and saw the Eldar bowing their heads. Teyarch nodded and then flashed him a dazzlingly bright smile - quite possibly the most friendly smile that Em had seen in quite some time. He felt as if he had stepped through the burning wheel without getting singed, while the guards stepped forward and the Eldar's centermost figure stood, then gestured.
"Go, now," she said, in musically tinted Low Gothic. "We shall prepare the Young Prince for his...departure."
Em nodded. "And, uh, the-" he stopped, sensing the hostility that flared up. He had been about to ask about the deployment of ships as well - but Teyarch laughed it off, shaking his head.
"Mon'keigh," he said, to the other Eldar. "Do not fret about the ships. Now. Please." He gestured.
Em, Tine and Ryia all allowed themselves to be escorted out.
"He said do not fret about the ships," Ryia said, frowning. "Maybe they'll meet us there?"
"I don't know...they all seemed so serious. And when I asked Badb Ra, he clammed up-"
"Sir!" The voice came from the auspex pit.
"What is it, Mr Carrow?" Em asked, not looking up from the data slate that he'd been handed. He signed it off, handed it back to his underofficer, then looked over to young mid. Mr. Carrow gulped.
"The Craftworld has launched a ship - she looks xebec sized, maybe...a cutter?" He tapped at his console and the hololith came to life, showing a sleek, triangular ship with a pair of sails emerging from it. It swept up, moving in to dock with the side of the Scourge, without so much as a by your leave. It was so fast and nimble that it struck Tine as being closer to a fighter than a capital ship.
"Oh hell, it's their royalty," Em said, realization dawning. "Get a honor guard there, now!" He took Tine by the hand, snatched up Riya's and rushed off, practically sprinting to get to the seal-lock.
Tabitha Von Strauss met them there, looking as unruffled as if she was forced to prepare a dignified arrival for Eldar nobility every day. The seal lock was flanked by Kriegers in their finest uniforms - their masks concealing any distaste they might show, while Em managed to straighten his jacket out and adjust his hat before the doors opened with a soft hiss, revealing that Teyarch stood in the door, alone, save for...a...bouquet of the most beautiful flowers that Tine had ever seen in her life. They shimmered like tiny stars, and their fragrances was so sweet she was sure even the Kriegers could smell it through their masks. The Eldar himself had eschewed robes and cloaks for a simple garment of white linen over his muscular chest and shoulders and a set of blue leggings, with simple shoes that allowed his feet to easily grip the floor. The only weapon he bore was a small, ceremonial dagger at his hip, and his only adornment was his soulstone broach around his throat. He laughed, seeing the guards.
"Such honor you pay me, Captain Vendigroth-Scourge," he said. "May I come aboard?"
Em, who had been braced for Eldar haughtiness, blinked at this politeness, but recovered swiftly. "Our ship is your ship, Sir Teyarch?"
"Ah, no," Teyarch laughed. "You are confused - I have been freed of the burden of being Teyarch. No longer must I walk the path of the Fire Dragon." He smiled, then held out the flowers to Tine and Ryia alike. "Here, a present to the ladies of the household."
Tine took the flowers, her eyes widening. They felt as silky as they looked, while Teyarch...not...Teyarch continued: "My name is Eldanesh, but that is a bit formal, you can call me Desh if you prefer." His lips quirked up in a smile. "I would say El, but I'd be edging a mite too close to your husband, hm?"
Em chuckled. "Em and El, quite a pair we'd make," he said, gesturing the Eldar forward. "We can have quarters readied for you...or...are you going to take the voyage on your ship?"
"Ah, no, the shrine ship is for when the battle is about to be joined," Desh said, shaking his head. "Until then, for the first time in five hundred years, I get to simply be...me." He looked around himself. "Is this really a mon'keigh ship?" he asked, his voice wondering. "It large. And..." He sniffed as they came into one of the main thoroughfares. "Is that cooking I smell?"
Em nodded. "Our crew live here, much as your people live upon your craftworld."
Desh paused, then gasped, turning and pointing. "What-" he cut himself off, gaping up above him - the thoroughfare was broad enough that it had several large statues of Imperial Saints worked into the pillars that supported the buttressed ceilings. In a sign of how much the crew had come to find the ship a part of home, several of those statues had been pressed into being temporary holders of damaged rigging-lines and spars that were being worked on by tech-wrights and their families. But not all of the people at work were the wrights. Several of the lower-deck children were perched atop the highest statue, laughing and pointing at the Eldar even as he pointed at them.
Tine scowled. "Get down from there!" She called up at the children, before switching to the ship's cant. "I can break your necks better than falling from up there can, get down!"
The children started to scramble down as Desh put his hand to his mouth. "You have children aboard this ship? So many..."
"That's humans for you," Ryia said, dryly.
Desh shook his head again. "I must have a full tour of the ship...and, uh, where will my quarters be?" he smiled, slightly. "I don't need much."
---
Tine's up. She is the hostess!
[ ] "But you will get plenty!" (put this charming Eldar in the finest quarters)
[ ] "Then we shall get something to your liking!" (put Desh where he may be more comfortable, in something spartan, but clean)
[ ] Write In
but also...
[ ] Set Course for Purgatorio - the open route is safest, even if it is slow: First to Damaris, then Footfall, then Wander, then at last, to Purgatorio.
[ ] We will never arrive in time to fortify her and meet our allies taking the crawling route. Set a course for the Void Dancer's Roil. We are going to brave the storms!
[ ] The Eldar say the Webway around here is dangerous. Diresome, even. That's still a better risk than a warp storm. We shall use that.
Would it truly spell doom?
Imagine if you were in a room of the Sisters of Battle, and they offered you a drink from the Chalice and you set it aside as if it was nothing - they'd have you before the Repentia before you knew what happened, Em thought. He tried to transpose this over and thus, put the right level of solemnity to his words as he bowed his head.
"We accept you, Teyarch of the Fire Dragons, Young King in Waiting." Em stood and saw the Eldar bowing their heads. Teyarch nodded and then flashed him a dazzlingly bright smile - quite possibly the most friendly smile that Em had seen in quite some time. He felt as if he had stepped through the burning wheel without getting singed, while the guards stepped forward and the Eldar's centermost figure stood, then gestured.
"Go, now," she said, in musically tinted Low Gothic. "We shall prepare the Young Prince for his...departure."
Em nodded. "And, uh, the-" he stopped, sensing the hostility that flared up. He had been about to ask about the deployment of ships as well - but Teyarch laughed it off, shaking his head.
"Mon'keigh," he said, to the other Eldar. "Do not fret about the ships. Now. Please." He gestured.
Em, Tine and Ryia all allowed themselves to be escorted out.
***
Aboard the Argent Scourge, Tine frowned and paced on the bridge as Em gave orders to the fleet, to begin preparation for making sail - the alliance was secured, and there was just the matter of leaving and heading on to their next destination. "I'm trying to figure that out..." she said, quietly. "Those ships aren't moving into formation - there's no sign of it. Badb Ra said that his Crows will meet with us to the battle - but why aren't the Craftworld ships throwing themselves in as well?" She shook her head. "It doesn't make sense."
"He said do not fret about the ships," Ryia said, frowning. "Maybe they'll meet us there?"
"I don't know...they all seemed so serious. And when I asked Badb Ra, he clammed up-"
"Sir!" The voice came from the auspex pit.
"What is it, Mr Carrow?" Em asked, not looking up from the data slate that he'd been handed. He signed it off, handed it back to his underofficer, then looked over to young mid. Mr. Carrow gulped.
"The Craftworld has launched a ship - she looks xebec sized, maybe...a cutter?" He tapped at his console and the hololith came to life, showing a sleek, triangular ship with a pair of sails emerging from it. It swept up, moving in to dock with the side of the Scourge, without so much as a by your leave. It was so fast and nimble that it struck Tine as being closer to a fighter than a capital ship.
"Oh hell, it's their royalty," Em said, realization dawning. "Get a honor guard there, now!" He took Tine by the hand, snatched up Riya's and rushed off, practically sprinting to get to the seal-lock.
Tabitha Von Strauss met them there, looking as unruffled as if she was forced to prepare a dignified arrival for Eldar nobility every day. The seal lock was flanked by Kriegers in their finest uniforms - their masks concealing any distaste they might show, while Em managed to straighten his jacket out and adjust his hat before the doors opened with a soft hiss, revealing that Teyarch stood in the door, alone, save for...a...bouquet of the most beautiful flowers that Tine had ever seen in her life. They shimmered like tiny stars, and their fragrances was so sweet she was sure even the Kriegers could smell it through their masks. The Eldar himself had eschewed robes and cloaks for a simple garment of white linen over his muscular chest and shoulders and a set of blue leggings, with simple shoes that allowed his feet to easily grip the floor. The only weapon he bore was a small, ceremonial dagger at his hip, and his only adornment was his soulstone broach around his throat. He laughed, seeing the guards.
"Such honor you pay me, Captain Vendigroth-Scourge," he said. "May I come aboard?"
Em, who had been braced for Eldar haughtiness, blinked at this politeness, but recovered swiftly. "Our ship is your ship, Sir Teyarch?"
"Ah, no," Teyarch laughed. "You are confused - I have been freed of the burden of being Teyarch. No longer must I walk the path of the Fire Dragon." He smiled, then held out the flowers to Tine and Ryia alike. "Here, a present to the ladies of the household."
Tine took the flowers, her eyes widening. They felt as silky as they looked, while Teyarch...not...Teyarch continued: "My name is Eldanesh, but that is a bit formal, you can call me Desh if you prefer." His lips quirked up in a smile. "I would say El, but I'd be edging a mite too close to your husband, hm?"
Em chuckled. "Em and El, quite a pair we'd make," he said, gesturing the Eldar forward. "We can have quarters readied for you...or...are you going to take the voyage on your ship?"
"Ah, no, the shrine ship is for when the battle is about to be joined," Desh said, shaking his head. "Until then, for the first time in five hundred years, I get to simply be...me." He looked around himself. "Is this really a mon'keigh ship?" he asked, his voice wondering. "It large. And..." He sniffed as they came into one of the main thoroughfares. "Is that cooking I smell?"
Em nodded. "Our crew live here, much as your people live upon your craftworld."
Desh paused, then gasped, turning and pointing. "What-" he cut himself off, gaping up above him - the thoroughfare was broad enough that it had several large statues of Imperial Saints worked into the pillars that supported the buttressed ceilings. In a sign of how much the crew had come to find the ship a part of home, several of those statues had been pressed into being temporary holders of damaged rigging-lines and spars that were being worked on by tech-wrights and their families. But not all of the people at work were the wrights. Several of the lower-deck children were perched atop the highest statue, laughing and pointing at the Eldar even as he pointed at them.
Tine scowled. "Get down from there!" She called up at the children, before switching to the ship's cant. "I can break your necks better than falling from up there can, get down!"
The children started to scramble down as Desh put his hand to his mouth. "You have children aboard this ship? So many..."
"That's humans for you," Ryia said, dryly.
Desh shook his head again. "I must have a full tour of the ship...and, uh, where will my quarters be?" he smiled, slightly. "I don't need much."
---
Tine's up. She is the hostess!
[ ] "But you will get plenty!" (put this charming Eldar in the finest quarters)
[ ] "Then we shall get something to your liking!" (put Desh where he may be more comfortable, in something spartan, but clean)
[ ] Write In
but also...
[ ] Set Course for Purgatorio - the open route is safest, even if it is slow: First to Damaris, then Footfall, then Wander, then at last, to Purgatorio.
[ ] We will never arrive in time to fortify her and meet our allies taking the crawling route. Set a course for the Void Dancer's Roil. We are going to brave the storms!
[ ] The Eldar say the Webway around here is dangerous. Diresome, even. That's still a better risk than a warp storm. We shall use that.