- Location
- yorkshire
we need to blow up those transports from the intel we got
Echoes of Eternity: A Warhammer 40k Necron Lord Quest
- Thread starter boredblues
- Start date
-
- Tags
- warhammer warhammer 40k necron war
THat was very cool battle scene. But now I'm conerned for our admiral. He had better days.
The warband having a uniting warmaster is somewhat expected. Its how they operate, on the other hand it makes hed hunting easier.
Shame about the damages. was hoping to bother them longer.
Hopefully we still maange few bites before they reach our planet.
Do wonder if they expect a dormant tomb. Or If they know the diffrence.
For all the advantage of endurence our enemes have, none outlives a necron.
a small reminder that we live on a fortress.
Wonder if they blow the Hermit place up...
The warband having a uniting warmaster is somewhat expected. Its how they operate, on the other hand it makes hed hunting easier.
Shame about the damages. was hoping to bother them longer.
Hopefully we still maange few bites before they reach our planet.
Do wonder if they expect a dormant tomb. Or If they know the diffrence.
For all the advantage of endurence our enemes have, none outlives a necron.
a small reminder that we live on a fortress.
Wonder if they blow the Hermit place up...
- Location
- yorkshire
hopfully we can snipe the transports that will make ground combat easier
We probably can, and easily at that, necromancer defense pylons are incredibly nasty, I expect that we can at least snipe a good few making their way to the surface and if we are lucky maybe finish off that heavy cruiser.
Actually on the navy side of things @boredblues much would it cost us to make a new dirge or make a jackal class raider?
For starters. A shipyard. We do not have one , yet.
After that, I would not be suprised to have some automatic construction dependant on wealth.
- Location
- yorkshire
Would it be possible to have ai driven ships
Got me there, honestly after we punk chaos off of mournhold and out of the system we should definitely see about getting a shipyard up, would really like to start expanding our fleet, a sekhem class would really be handy right about now.
birdmaster01
Big Tech's Strongest Soldier
C'MON EVERYONE
WE'RE NECRONS
NOT DALEKS
NOT CYBERMEN
NOT BENDER FROM FUTURAMA
NECRONS
WE GOTTA KICK ASS
AND CHEW BUBBLEGUM
AND WE GOTTA BE ALL OUTTA BUBBLEGUM
HELLS YEAH
GRIND THESE RUSTY SARDINE LOOKING ASS HUMANS INTO FINE DUST
C'MON
thank you for coming to my TEDTalk
WE'RE NECRONS
NOT DALEKS
NOT CYBERMEN
NOT BENDER FROM FUTURAMA
NECRONS
WE GOTTA KICK ASS
AND CHEW BUBBLEGUM
AND WE GOTTA BE ALL OUTTA BUBBLEGUM
HELLS YEAH
GRIND THESE RUSTY SARDINE LOOKING ASS HUMANS INTO FINE DUST
C'MON
thank you for coming to my TEDTalk
Found some xenos
... The Wrath Badgers... in 40k... on Fenris... why?
On the event side of things. This will take longer than we would be happy with. Removing their space assets will be a bitch. Now I worry that we'll have to deal with planet fall of that damned fleet. At least the transports do not need to return so dumping them on planet is something I could imagine. Not like they want to deal with our planetary defence batteries longer than they have to.
Buggers are still cowards.
... The Wrath Badgers... in 40k... on Fenris... why?
On the event side of things. This will take longer than we would be happy with. Removing their space assets will be a bitch. Now I worry that we'll have to deal with planet fall of that damned fleet. At least the transports do not need to return so dumping them on planet is something I could imagine. Not like they want to deal with our planetary defence batteries longer than they have to.
Buggers are still cowards.
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- Location
- yorkshire
I wonder if we could drown the in scarabs i think they self replicate @boredblues how do you plan to incorporate the self replicating swarm of scarabs
Edit: yep they can found this on the wiki
The Canoptek Scarabs will no longer operate under the Necrons' direct control: as part of their reversion to basic programming, they will expend any accumulated energy on fashioning even more scarabs; thus creating a voracious self-replicating swarm that only something of the order of a saturation bombardment has any hope of exterminating.
Edit: yep they can found this on the wiki
The Canoptek Scarabs will no longer operate under the Necrons' direct control: as part of their reversion to basic programming, they will expend any accumulated energy on fashioning even more scarabs; thus creating a voracious self-replicating swarm that only something of the order of a saturation bombardment has any hope of exterminating.
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- Location
- Anchorage, Alaska
Whelp if we're desperate enough to do this to remove their chaff/summoning bait…we might have too.
Because I do not want chaos playing "stab itself for I win buttons".
- Location
- yorkshire
Or we could just throw wave after wave of self replicating death at them this could counter the demon hosts quite nicely at whose they will he bogged dowm
While it would be effective eventually. Its the elite and magical we have to worry about. Their mightests are still a threat to our critical infrastructure and only ones capable of going againts Xor for a bit. While their magical support is amoung most problematic for our forces not to mention their ability to manifestt reinforcments if given time and opportunity.
Head hunting teams and precision strikes agains those are of strategic imperative. Good thing we have plenty of units with phasing capabilities.
They are expeciting standard necron tactics, I see no reason not to exploit that by behaving that way at the begining, only to flip the script and hit them where it hurts.
Edit: Some cool art had been added on Deviantart... Looking forward to posting it after next update
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Turns 5 Results - Breaking the Mold - Eldar
Aldynn looked down at the plate. Lumps that could have been potatoes or rocks floated in a thick soup the color of her slippers. The smell was, well, there.
"T-thanks."
The multi-legged construct didn't answer. It never did; she could feel no soul going alongside the intelligence lurking behind those unblinking green optics.
Oh, right. "A-a bit more salt, maybe?" She ventured.
"Acknowledged. Data added." Without another word, the construct turned, skittering back to the chaos of machinery that was its kingdom. Aldynn couldn't guess what those blocky things were, let alone what the tubes and circuits and glowing glyphs were meant for. Except the pots. Those were self-explanatory enough.
She dithered, unwilling to leave yet. But then the construct started doing something involving bubbling and the smells and sights all but chased her away.
The way back to her cell was dreary, like everything in that complex. The Necrons had tried their best, putting up rows of lights, plastering walls with different colors, adding curves resembling Eldar architectures. They even put a little stream of burbling water that ran parallel to the corridor. It was cute, in a strange, methodical kind of way, but… too geometric? It was like someone tried to copy something they didn't quite understood, slapped it together in a way that was just shy of being natural.
Aldynn sighed. I shouldn't complain…
She had expected lots of things from being a Necron prisoner. Quarters larger than her family mansion back home and being consulted on food flavor weren't among them.
A small group of Necrons stood in the middle of the corridor, massive spiders working to put together a smashed construct. They didn't interrupt their work as she walked closer. Only the Cryptek overseeing their efforts turned at her.
"Greetings, organic," he said, his voice a hollow, inquisitive drone. Mekhora was a member of the Necron technomancer chaste, responsible for taking care of their technology, or that's what she surmised they did. Honestly, those little, she didn't think kinda cute, Scarabs seemed to do most of the work.
Aldynn blushed, nodding quickly. She got mostly used to having constructs around. They did their job quickly and efficiently and didn't interact if you didn't do so first. But Crypteks were another breed. There was a tattered remnant of a soul behind their glowing eyes, and she always shivered a little at feeling it. She still felt a bit guilty about it, though.
Mekhora's optics whirred as he gave her a once-over. Two sets of fingers stapled over, while another started doing strange, sweeping movements. "You've put up weight," he commented. "Has the diet been too heavy on fat?"
Aldynn blushed furiously. It was embarrassing to admit that she had got more sleep and rest as a Necron prisoner of war than she ever did as a Spiritseer of the Biel-Tan.
"N-no! I just ate a bit too much." She knew the excuse was lame the moment it left her lips, but Mekhora only nodded – a gesture she suspected was more for her benefit than anything else. His free hand made a precise motion.
"Have the facilities been up to requirements?" He asked, taking a professor's tone. "Bio-scans and historical records suggest a two to an two and a half microcycles of physical exertion to be the vector for optimal health levels, followed by three microcycles of spiritual exercises and one sub-cycle of leisure-related activities."
The Cryptek kept going, and Aldynn left the lecture with her cheeks in flames. Still, a little part of her couldn't help but feel happy.
As part of her tenure on the Path of the Seer, she had extensively studied her people's mythological cycles. As she prepared for the mission that led her there, she had watched Harlequin plays, communed with the spirits of the ancient dead, and dug through the Biel-Tan's psycho-archives, scouring for any scrap of knowledge on the Ymgir, the Enemies of Life, slaves of the Star-Gods, and ancient nemesis of the Eldar.
What she was found was legends, voices, poetry and hints that had to be painstakingly vetted out from heavy metaphor and literary flourish. Little, far more than she had hoped for, but there were unmistakable commonalities.
Apparently, the Necrontyr had been one of the many lesser races that the Eldar had struggled against as they conquered the Galaxy behind their Gods incarnate. Ancient and powerful and yet unable to match the Empire in its prime, the Necrontyr had sold their souls to the Star-Gods, abominations that lived by feasting on the essence of the stars and the souls of their subjects. They had offered the C'tan bodies of living metal, compressing unfathomable energies in frames of necrodermis, and then had offered themselves, giving up soul and flesh in exchange for eternal metal bodies. So the Necrontyr had passed from history and the Necrons had risen, monsters of endless malice and the desire to snuff out all life out of bitterness who what they had lost. A lesson on dealing with forces outside of the Eldar Pantheon and the inherent weakness of those who weren't as blessed as the children of Asuryan, born with immortality already.
The mythological cycles were quite extensive, detailing how the Eldar, represented by their Gods, tricked or defeated the C'tan one after the other, forcing those they didn't destroy into exile beyond the stars. With their masters gone, the Necrons' armies fell, and they passed from the galaxy, quickly fading to become a distant boogeyman before the far more important, far more impactful War in Heaven, the civil war between the Eldar Gods, saw the peak of the Empire end. A perfect example of it was the story of the One Hundred Blades Khaine commissioned from Vaul to equip his soldiers for a fight against the Necrons, in exchange for the freedom of Isha and Kurnous. Unable to fulfill the commission in time, the Smith-God had added a normal sword as the hundredth one, a trick which had seen Khaine's forces defeated and the Lord of Murder's wrath turned upon the Great Craftsman.
Even in this, the Necrons took second stage to the conflicts between the Aeldari Pantheon, often little more than a nebulous enemy to defeat or be threatened from. Apocryphal versions added variations or even contradicted singular events, but not the general gist of it.
Only with the rise of the Path System and the great Farseers, divinations showed that the Necrons, once thought destroyed, had gone into slumber instead, waiting without a doubt for a chance to return and resume their crusade against all life.
Aldynn still quaked at remembering some of the prophecies she had read about, of the galaxy-wide devastation the Necrons would wreak if they were allowed to awaken in full and undisturbed, a disaster that some among the Councils even claimed would rival the birth of She who Thirsts.
But is that true? The spirits she had communed with had been quite adamant about the Necron deviousness and all-consuming desire for death, their envy for those who still held a soul and their wish to spread their misery, but none of them had truly lived during the times before the War In Heaven, the Infinity Circuits having been set up only at the onset of the Fall. The oldest spirits inhabiting the Craftworld's bones remembered the twilight days of the Empire, but not one went beyond, when the Gods walked the realm of flesh and blood.
What if time and her people's fall had twisted the truth? What if the Necrons weren't the monsters the legends said they were? They could be shadowed, withered things, but they had souls!
Machines and cold they could be, but what genocidal maniac kept prisoners? And what death-worshipping abomination asked if you got enough exercise? Gave you a meditation chamber? A playroom? Asked if you wanted more salt in our soup?
Aldynn wasn't sure about much, she had never been. But she wondered, and that wonder was like a little ember in her chest, warming her and giving her hope.
------------------
"Taekin? Are you…?"
Aldynn yelped, the bowl almost flying off her hands.
Taekin, chest bare and skin glistening with sweat, stopped in the middle of a combat form and glared at her.
"I am busy," he growled, and swiped the practice blade down in a smooth movement.
Aldynn hid behind her bowl, hoping that it wouldn't melt against her cheeks. "Please put on something," she begged weakly.
Heart thumping in her ears, she heard a scoff, then some rustling, followed by a: "Come on."
Taking it as her cue, she peeked and almost melted in relief in seeing him clad in his mesh armor. Armor, which was starting to stink real bad, she noticed with some dread. It took her some courage to give the Necrons her robes for cleaning, and some more to put on the simple ones they gave her in exchange, but nothing bad had come from it, had it?
Some of what she thought must have shown on her face because Taekin's expression tightened.
"Don't waste my time," he growled, and turned away. "I am busy."
Aldynn looked at the bed, freshly made, the small wardrobe where a few simple robes were lain, the meditation rug, roughly pushed aside to make space for bare-footed forms, the trunk where the ghosthelm, rune armor, shortsword and, more importantly, satchel of Soulstones rested. All objects speaking of a simple, spartan existence. Hers, in her room, which Taekin had taken the habit of hiding away when he didn't want to be disturbed. Aldynn suspected that the Vesperian took flaunting the Necrons offerings, like ignoring the very well-equipped gym or sleeping and living everywhere but in his room as an attempt at preserving his freedom.
Aldynn worried at the bowl, sneaking glances at Taekin's fast-moving shape. Part of her field apprenticeship had consisted in monitoring and easing the communication between the Siblings.
"Make no mistake, my apprentice. They will hate you for it," Kelmon, her wise master, had told her. "Like all those like them, their bonds is them and they are their bond. It shapes them, setting them in a place between life and death, giving them meaning and purpose even as it robs them of the chance of sharing it. It makes them jealous of it, and we that dare to meddle elicit their undying rage, no matter how good our intentions may be. So steel yourself for their barbs and fault them not, for they are needed and their outrage is to be understood."
Aldynn had taken the lesson at heart. Twins were prized among the Eldar, their birth an omen of fortune, and the loss of one a tragedy she could scarcely imagine to the other. She would allow far more to pass than insults and cold shoulders when it came to them.
But she was worried. Since their capture, the simmering antipathy between her and the Siblings had flared into full-blown hostility. Taekin watched her like it was her fault that The Lament had been destroyed and glared every time she accepted anything from the Necrons, his presence a cloud of flame stinging her perceptions with daggers of hostility. But she could accept it. What worried her was that Taekin carried his sister's Soul Stone with him at every moment, and the dead sibling's aura was a storm of furious emotions that shook her with its intensity. She feared its effects on Taekin's mind. The sibling was more open to suggestions from his dead twin than anyone else.
As a Spiritseer, she knew rituals meant to appease the dead, to calm them, but…
"Mh, Taekin?"
The Vesperian's raptor eyes were on her in a heartbeat. Aldynn swallowed. "Don't… don't you think that it's t-time for… the rituals? It-it would relieve your sister and…"
The chainsword slapped an inch away from her feet, making her jump.
Taekin's eyes could have been orbs of fire for how much they glowed. "Shut up," he hissed through gritted teeth. "You won't touch my sister, traitor."
Aldynn stepped back, feeling like he had just slapped her. Tears stung at her eyes, words failing her.
A polite cough broke the moment.
Chalchun, the small Cryptek riding atop a Canoptek construct, hovered by the door. Despite the expressionless mask making up his face, he still managed to look curious.
"Sorry to interrupt," he coughed. He straightened up, trying so hard to look and sound formal that it went from grotesque to straight funny. "I am here to inform both of you that the High Mistress will hold a social dinner twelve micro-cycles from now. Also, Her Highness extends her invitation to join her for a light refreshment after the public event."
O-oh…! Of course the terrifying Necron Lord who destroyed The Lament and upon whose whim their lives rested had to call them just when she was struggling not to cry. Aldynn tried to speak, but all she managed was a hiccup.
"Drop the pretenses," Taekin growled. "This is no invitation. We cannot refuse as much as you abominations can talk of dinners."
Aldynn didn't think she could jump out of her skin. At the moment, it felt very likely. But Chalchun didn't sound angry.
"But of course you can," Chalchun replied smoothly, optics turning toward the Sibling. "Her Highness's moments of leisure are too important to be allowed for anything but serenity and acceptance to impinge upon them. But I can't say I advise it. Her presence alone is bringer of all kinds of boons."
Aldynn wanted to scream. Of course it would be! It would be the first chance since… whenever it was they were captured to try and ask for something! The idea that she wasn't sure how long it was since then scared her but she refused to think about it.
Taekin had to think the same because he hesitated. "It's an outrage," he said. "Why would we be invited only to the private setting?" He almost looked pleased to have found a reason to complain.
Chalchun paused, in the way Aldynn had come to associate with thinking. "It's the opposite," he said, formality sliding off him like a forgotten cloak. "The private henqet hetep is reserved for guests the sovereign deems worthy of the honor of her august presence. There won't even be differences in seating or guards apart from the most basic, to show the informal nature of the gathering. The public senut is instead open to a far larger number of invitees, whom gain their invitation by dint of their noble status. Its participants are called to bask in the sovereign's glory rather than to share her favor." He sounded more puzzled than annoyed, like he wondered why they would ever say no. "It's a great honor, reserved only for the most favored of Lords." He shrugged. "Also, we call it dinner by tradition. I won't bore you with the details, but it's more about circuits and what we call Ma'at. The Proper Way of Things, you would call it." He tilted his head, optics blinking. "What should I report to the Mistress?"
"We'll come!" Aldynn blurted out, anticipating Taekin. She rubbed her eyes, swallowed, then tried again, a little more firmly. "We thank the High Mistress for her invitation. We'll come for sure."
Chalchun put his hands together and bowed, then left, leaving her under Taekin's smouldering gaze.
Aldynn looked away, eyes stinging. Sometimes, she truly hated how weak she could be.
----------
The Necrons didn't make demands about clothes, but Eldar pride would allow nothing but the best, which in their case was little, Aldynn had to admit. Her psycho-mesh was what it was and the sword at her hip felt like a badly-kept toothpick. As for Taekin, well, even the proud dignity of a Wraithknight pilot had its limits when you stank.
Part of Aldynn felt guilty. She should have been able to convince him to swap his clothes, at least.
Chalchun led the way, the Cryptek's stead – was that the right term? - hitting the floor with a metallic lack of rhythm. The hulking forms of Necron elites dotted the corridors, and their staves echoed dully as they slammed them against the floor in an eerie unison. Each time, Chalchun stopped, making arcane gestures and mumbling things which she managed only to catch in shreds.
If he was impressed, Taekin didn't show it, but Aldynn knew that she was. Part of her was starting to understand that the Necrons were things of rituals. Everything of importance they did was formalized, ritualized into solemnity. Even a simple affair like a private dinner was held with the same aplomb and measure of a temple celebration. Even as she wondered why, Aldynn was surprised by how different and at the same time similar it was to her race's habits.
The hall they led them to was small by Necron standards, or it was from what few spaces she had seen of the complex at least. A walkway, large enough that a phalanx of Wraithguards could have walked abreast across it, led to a platform, a corridor of Elites leading the way. A table with four chairs had been set on it, the furniture carved in the shimmering, black, stony metal the Necrons seemed to use for everything. Gloom surrounded it, receding into pitch-black darkness the farther one went from it.
Chalchun led them to it, then stepped aside, still murmuring his strange lithany. To her self-reproach, Aldynn forgot him quickly. She heard Taekin inspire, but she was a bit busy trying to find her breath.
The High Mistress was… a sight. A Necron shouldn't have looked so vibrant, so alive and graceful as she lounged on her throne.
Viridian eyes set on a featureless mask like stars in the night sky settles on her, and she felt naked. Here was an ancient being, she felt with the hammer of certainty, far older than any of her race and with enough power in one of her breaths to crush her bones and crack her mind open, unveil every secret, every shame, every little lie. The way The Lament had been devoured by darkness flitted across her mind like a ghost. She shivered.
Elegant fingers flicked in a beckoning motion, and Aldynn almost tripped on her own feet as she realized they were given leave to approach.
"You're here," the Mistress said, the quiet pleasure in her voice somehow managing to make her relax and tense at the same time. She tilted her head in greeting, first to Taekin and then to her. Aldynn repressed the need to worry at her sleeve. "I hope your accommodations have been to your satisfaction. I had my Crypteks gather what information we have in our archives and come up with something that I hope will be better than what you've been offered until now." She gestured, and Aldynn tore her attention away from those eyes to look at the table. In a bit of a daze, she saw pots and cutlery, all of them looking peculiarly simple for the setting.
It's a private dinner, right. Was that the reason? She wasn't sure… also, she was going off-topic. She was so nervous!
Chalchun reached out and took the cover off one of the pots, cutting her reverie short. The smell hit her like meditation incense. That was…
"O-oh…!" Aldynn realized the Mistress was looking at her, probably waiting for a comment. Also, she may have been drooling a little. "I-I am sorry. It's…" She clamped her mouth shut and blushed. Was it too much to hope for a hole to open beneath her feet now?
The Mistress' eyes narrowed with amusement. "Think nothing of it," she conceded. "It only means I did something right. Have a seat."
After they were seated – little scarabs moved the chairs for them, Aldynn realized with delight -, Taekin glared at the empty chair.
"I expected another," the Mistress said casually. A big construct shaped like the nightmare of a spider skittered by. It tipped a jug, filling the glass waiting in front of her with thick, shimmering oil. "Regretfully, he doesn't seem to be one for social gathering, or leisure for all that matter." She shrugged, shoulders moving with a delicate smoothness that shouldn't have belonged to a machine. "The work, the work and all that entails. We all take it so very seriously. It's my opinion it shouldn't always be so." She took a sip and sighed, leaning back against the throne.
For a long moment, she didn't speak, just watching them. "You both look healthy. It pleases me." The glass clacked as she put it down. "I must apologize. Certain matters have been taking my attention and I couldn't entertain you like I feel I should have. But I aim to change things now." She showed them her palm in a strange, welcoming gesture. "So go ahead. Ask your questions. I'll answer them as much as I am able."
A moment passed, and Aldynn shuddered, realizing they had been given leave to speak. Before too…! Knowing when to be silent was so ingrained in the Path System that it rarely needed to be enforced. They really are ritual-bound, she thought with a spark of marvel.
Shame that Taekin seemed to realize the same.
"You have no right!" He snapped, shooting at his feet, slamming both hands on the table. Cutlery wobbled before being yanked back into their position by something invisible. "I demand you leave me and my sister go immediately!" Taekin's presence flared like a supernova, matched by her sister's.
Aldynn almost whimpered. Me and my sister? But what about… n-never mind that! Wringing her hands, she sneaked a glance toward her host… and was surprised to find that the Mistress was watching her, not the Eldar that had most likely broke some sacred code of conduct, if the way Chalchun was fretting, or how some of the Necron elite were slowly stirring to life, was anything to go by.
The Mistress made no gesture and spoke no word, but something must have been passed, because they returned to their post like nothing ever happened. In the heavy silence that followed, even Taekin seemed to lose a bit of his poise, and even more when she shifted to look at him.
"You stink," she commented lightly. Taekin reared up, stung pride emanating from him, but before he could speak, the smile disappeared from the Mistress' face. "Sit down, brat."
Aldynn quaked. The words went through her like the sonic boom from a Wraithfighter acceleration run; they rattled the teeth in her mouth and popped her ears. Taekin held his ground for a moment, then he sit back down slowly, glaring.
"Good," the Mistress picked up her glass, the genteel host once more. "Chalchun? What do the Necron conduct of war says?"
The Cryptek skittered forward. He cleared his throat, the sound coming out as processors shifting, then intoned:
"If prisoners are made in honorable combat, the rank-and-file shall be left at the Phaeron's generosity, while those of Noble Blood are to be given all regards appropriate to their rank and offered the chance to be ransomed at will. If no ransom is forthcoming, the Phaeron is to offer them unto the Triarchs, so that an arbitrate and peaceful resolution can be found under the merciful gaze of the Silent One. Yet, should those of Noble Blood be made into prisoners after being cornered in a clearly unwinnable position, should they be offered terms of surrender under oath and yet refuse and engage and be defeated, then they forfeit all rights apportioned at their rank and are to be given to the conquering Phaeron's mercy." He bowed. Aldynn's lips had gone dry.
"And that's about Necron Nobles." The Mistress's visors had gone blank, the equal of keeping her eyes closed, Aldynn thought. "What about those belonging to other races? What does the code of war say about them?"
Chalchun took a moment to answer, whirring coming from his head. "Nothing, Your Highness," he intoned. "Aliens aren't given a place in the sacred codes. Their status is not recognized and as such, not-existent."
"Not-existent," the Mistress repeated, and regarded them. Aldynn felt like she was floating.
"The Biel-Tan won't stay for this…!" His gauntlets creaked from how tight his fists were.
"Not-existent," she repeated, ignoring him. She was watching her, a certain… questioning there. "Yet, you weren't treated as such. You were given all the accommodations a Noble of my race would have. Even if someone didn't see fit to make use of some of them." She winked at her. Taekin bristled. Aldynn's head spun. "So no, you won't be probed, won't be analyzed, won't be disassembled and I won't try to see if an Eldar can be turned into a Necron." Her intrigued tone never wavered as she said that. Aldynn was glad she was seated. "In fact, you will be treated well for all the time I'll get to enjoy your company. You'll be given food, clothes and medical assistance and anything you may need. And when your Craftworld decides to make its presence known, you will be returned to them alongside all the Soulstones my soldiers salvaged, and the scraps if you want them."
Neither spoke as they digested her words. Taekin broke the silence.
"Why?"
The Mistress tilted her head at him. "Why not?"
The pilot opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. "You mean to deceive us," he eventually said. "You deceived me already, goaded me into a fight and destroyed many of us. You will do the same!"
Aldynn watched him, startled. That… that's not how things went. But… how would Taekin know if the Necrons kept their words anyway? It… it wasn't such an easy decision to make. Fighting to the death was a better fate than being taken prisoners by soulless monstrosities.
Right?
The Mistress didn't seem off-put. "This too will take time, mh?" She nursed her glass, looking away, into the darkness.
Taekin glared at her, his soul blazing with conflicting urges. "You fear us," he growled eventually. "You fear the Biel-Tan and come at us through underhanded means." Aldynn felt it like a glass of water hitting a burning throat. Relief, for a clear explaination that fit with his worldview. It… it made sense.
She turned to them. There was unfettered amusement in her eyes now, blinking like mischievious stars.
"Well, about that…"
The platform shuddered. Taekin darted around, looking almost pleased to be back in a dangerous setting. Aldynn didn't quite agree. With her enhanced perceptions, she felt it first.
Gigantic. Stalking the darkness. Ponderous, heavy, with power enough that The Lament was but a chick before it. A cold mind of gears and circuits, with fangs that knew no denial but from the mightiest of Asuryan's children.
Two of them.
And Aldynn knew that neither she nor Taekin were among the mightiest children of the Creator.
"What…" The whisper died in her mouth as the Mistress put a finger to her lips.
Unable to breath, even to swallow, she listened, trembling. The monsters moved in the dark, and she glimpsed colossal stalks and whirring optics burning with light; she guessed enormous cannons crackling with unholy energies, imagined Titans wounded to death by lances of furious power.
The Mistress's gaze held her and Taekin both. "Fear, mh?"
It passed. The monsters were banished back into the abyss where they waited and brooded and sharpened their cold fury and she could breath again.
Panting, she glanced at Taekin, concerned. The pilot was pale, but his expression remained resolute. In his mind, The Lament had been the pinnacle of might, a colossal war machine of unparalleled power and grace. But the Titans stood above, in the airy cosmos of unbridled might undreamed even by a Wraithknight. And as for those who could fell Titans…
Aldynn shivered.
"Enough serious business!" The Mistress clapped, and it was like curtains falling on a Harlequin scene and rising over another.
Dazed, Aldynn had the time to realize the scampering of many feet, before something big and soft smacked against her chest, making her squeak.
She blinked, and Aldynn, Spiritseer apprentice, found herself staring at one of the strangest creatures she had ever seen.
It vaguely resembled a now-extinct Terran animal that the Mon'keigh had long favored - dogs, they called them from what little she remembered -, but black, somewhat edgy, like someone had tried to carve an approximation of the animal from stone and metal and plastic. Except that it had a mane, it felt amazingly soft and shimmered with waves of blue and white as it moved.
The animal's nose had something reptilian mixed in it, and two tails wagged happily behind it instead of only one. A long tongue lolled out as it breathed with enthusiasm, just beneath two… two buttons?
Oh my gods, it's so cute! It was like a plushie had come to life. And more of them surrounded her chairs, begging for attention. Aldynn almost tore up there and then.
Head spinning, she saw a thoroughly distraught Taekin surrounded by small creatures with blinking lights for eyes and little paws and round, thighly furred bodies. The pilot made boggle eyes at one who climbed on his shoulder and loafed there, resting one of his large cheek on a paw.
Ohmygodsit'ssocute! Aldynn needed to pet it. Now.
"Pesed," the Mistress explained, amused, while she pounced. A serpentine creature with silvery, iridescent scales and four piercing eyes beneath a pronounced brow twisted gracefully around her wrist and hand. "Bright Ones, in your language. Some of my peers didn't wish to go into immortality without their favored pets, so they were afforded the passage as well." She caressed it, the creature's frills quivering in pleasure. "They took to their new existences quite well."
Aldynn was too busy melting away petting a round creature's luscious fur to speak, so it was Taekin who did.
"More abo…" A "dog" clung enthusiastically to him, begging for pets, until he threw it away. The creature stopped mid-air, fell back on his feet and charged back, not a beat lost. "More abominations," the pilot grumbled, surrendering under the creature's eagerness. But there was no heat behind his words. "Do they have any use?" He tried and failed to push the dog away.
"Military speaking? Not one," the Mistress replied, amused. The serpent formed elaborate formations around her forearms, stopping only to receive a petting on his head. "But they're cute, are they not?"
Aldynn agreed with that. Why, she would even go as far as to say that they were very cute.
Still, she had to ask.
"And did… did it hurt?" She asked. The little creature in her lap felt so fragile, so innocent. She would hate to think it had suffered.
The Mistress watched her for a moment. "Oh, C'tan be damned," she scoffed, and before Aldynn knew what was happening, she was being patted herself.
Aldynn met Taekin's startled look with a nervous smile of her own. But hey, it… it was nice, she guessed?
"Now, shall we eat? Here we have..."
----------------
"I had pleasure speaking with you. We'll talk again when these matters will be resolved."
"It's… it's a problem, Your Highness?"
"Nuisances, my dear, people who just love to make a bother of themselves. But this Galaxy is full with them, isn't it? No need to lose your mind every time a good-for-nothing comes knocking."
"A-ah, I see…"
"Run along now. Next time, I'll answer all the questions you have."
"Q-questions, Your Highness?"
"Of course. I was there when your race was created, my dear. I saw your Gods. I know that you have plenty of questions about that."
"O-oh… oh! Right… right."
A chuckle. This little girl had to stop being this adorable.
"And do tell your friend to at least try and shower, would you? All the pride in the world won't save him from looking the fool."
------------------
ACTION RESULTS
+ 2% to Lament of the Aeldari questline
+ 4% to The Great War questline
By getting closer to your prisoners, you unlocked the chance, very vague, to make peaceful contact with the Biel-Tan. Do not count on it, but it's something, right?
AC - War. War never changes. And so are the filled episodes while people are shouting each other in the main scenario. Or maybe this is the main scenario? Dunno. Necron dogs are very cute though.
In the old Eldar lore, the kerfuffle with the one hundred swords had Necrons in it and Eldanesh was the guy with the failed sword. In the new one, Eldanesh got flanked by Ulthanesh and Khaine got turned into a quasi-Chaos God working devious schemes and being an all-around bad person, whom very much deserved to be owned by Slaanesh. In all versions, the Necrons are very secondary to the War in Heaven (Aeldari Version), with no mention at all of the Old Ones, which I find very interesting. It seems to speak a lot about the late descent of the Eldar in decadence, especially about the ego. Their "modern" mythology is very self-centric, with Asuryan having created everything for their amusement and the Eldar Gods responsible for everything. Very similar to the Imperium in that, but don't tell them I said that. Anyway, I am playing with the lore, mixing and matching. It's all so nebulous that we can go about it as much as one want.
Things as they are, heavy doses of patting will be needed to set them straight. Good thing we have more than enough.
"T-thanks."
The multi-legged construct didn't answer. It never did; she could feel no soul going alongside the intelligence lurking behind those unblinking green optics.
Oh, right. "A-a bit more salt, maybe?" She ventured.
"Acknowledged. Data added." Without another word, the construct turned, skittering back to the chaos of machinery that was its kingdom. Aldynn couldn't guess what those blocky things were, let alone what the tubes and circuits and glowing glyphs were meant for. Except the pots. Those were self-explanatory enough.
She dithered, unwilling to leave yet. But then the construct started doing something involving bubbling and the smells and sights all but chased her away.
The way back to her cell was dreary, like everything in that complex. The Necrons had tried their best, putting up rows of lights, plastering walls with different colors, adding curves resembling Eldar architectures. They even put a little stream of burbling water that ran parallel to the corridor. It was cute, in a strange, methodical kind of way, but… too geometric? It was like someone tried to copy something they didn't quite understood, slapped it together in a way that was just shy of being natural.
Aldynn sighed. I shouldn't complain…
She had expected lots of things from being a Necron prisoner. Quarters larger than her family mansion back home and being consulted on food flavor weren't among them.
A small group of Necrons stood in the middle of the corridor, massive spiders working to put together a smashed construct. They didn't interrupt their work as she walked closer. Only the Cryptek overseeing their efforts turned at her.
"Greetings, organic," he said, his voice a hollow, inquisitive drone. Mekhora was a member of the Necron technomancer chaste, responsible for taking care of their technology, or that's what she surmised they did. Honestly, those little, she didn't think kinda cute, Scarabs seemed to do most of the work.
Aldynn blushed, nodding quickly. She got mostly used to having constructs around. They did their job quickly and efficiently and didn't interact if you didn't do so first. But Crypteks were another breed. There was a tattered remnant of a soul behind their glowing eyes, and she always shivered a little at feeling it. She still felt a bit guilty about it, though.
Mekhora's optics whirred as he gave her a once-over. Two sets of fingers stapled over, while another started doing strange, sweeping movements. "You've put up weight," he commented. "Has the diet been too heavy on fat?"
Aldynn blushed furiously. It was embarrassing to admit that she had got more sleep and rest as a Necron prisoner of war than she ever did as a Spiritseer of the Biel-Tan.
"N-no! I just ate a bit too much." She knew the excuse was lame the moment it left her lips, but Mekhora only nodded – a gesture she suspected was more for her benefit than anything else. His free hand made a precise motion.
"Have the facilities been up to requirements?" He asked, taking a professor's tone. "Bio-scans and historical records suggest a two to an two and a half microcycles of physical exertion to be the vector for optimal health levels, followed by three microcycles of spiritual exercises and one sub-cycle of leisure-related activities."
The Cryptek kept going, and Aldynn left the lecture with her cheeks in flames. Still, a little part of her couldn't help but feel happy.
As part of her tenure on the Path of the Seer, she had extensively studied her people's mythological cycles. As she prepared for the mission that led her there, she had watched Harlequin plays, communed with the spirits of the ancient dead, and dug through the Biel-Tan's psycho-archives, scouring for any scrap of knowledge on the Ymgir, the Enemies of Life, slaves of the Star-Gods, and ancient nemesis of the Eldar.
What she was found was legends, voices, poetry and hints that had to be painstakingly vetted out from heavy metaphor and literary flourish. Little, far more than she had hoped for, but there were unmistakable commonalities.
Apparently, the Necrontyr had been one of the many lesser races that the Eldar had struggled against as they conquered the Galaxy behind their Gods incarnate. Ancient and powerful and yet unable to match the Empire in its prime, the Necrontyr had sold their souls to the Star-Gods, abominations that lived by feasting on the essence of the stars and the souls of their subjects. They had offered the C'tan bodies of living metal, compressing unfathomable energies in frames of necrodermis, and then had offered themselves, giving up soul and flesh in exchange for eternal metal bodies. So the Necrontyr had passed from history and the Necrons had risen, monsters of endless malice and the desire to snuff out all life out of bitterness who what they had lost. A lesson on dealing with forces outside of the Eldar Pantheon and the inherent weakness of those who weren't as blessed as the children of Asuryan, born with immortality already.
The mythological cycles were quite extensive, detailing how the Eldar, represented by their Gods, tricked or defeated the C'tan one after the other, forcing those they didn't destroy into exile beyond the stars. With their masters gone, the Necrons' armies fell, and they passed from the galaxy, quickly fading to become a distant boogeyman before the far more important, far more impactful War in Heaven, the civil war between the Eldar Gods, saw the peak of the Empire end. A perfect example of it was the story of the One Hundred Blades Khaine commissioned from Vaul to equip his soldiers for a fight against the Necrons, in exchange for the freedom of Isha and Kurnous. Unable to fulfill the commission in time, the Smith-God had added a normal sword as the hundredth one, a trick which had seen Khaine's forces defeated and the Lord of Murder's wrath turned upon the Great Craftsman.
Even in this, the Necrons took second stage to the conflicts between the Aeldari Pantheon, often little more than a nebulous enemy to defeat or be threatened from. Apocryphal versions added variations or even contradicted singular events, but not the general gist of it.
Only with the rise of the Path System and the great Farseers, divinations showed that the Necrons, once thought destroyed, had gone into slumber instead, waiting without a doubt for a chance to return and resume their crusade against all life.
Aldynn still quaked at remembering some of the prophecies she had read about, of the galaxy-wide devastation the Necrons would wreak if they were allowed to awaken in full and undisturbed, a disaster that some among the Councils even claimed would rival the birth of She who Thirsts.
But is that true? The spirits she had communed with had been quite adamant about the Necron deviousness and all-consuming desire for death, their envy for those who still held a soul and their wish to spread their misery, but none of them had truly lived during the times before the War In Heaven, the Infinity Circuits having been set up only at the onset of the Fall. The oldest spirits inhabiting the Craftworld's bones remembered the twilight days of the Empire, but not one went beyond, when the Gods walked the realm of flesh and blood.
What if time and her people's fall had twisted the truth? What if the Necrons weren't the monsters the legends said they were? They could be shadowed, withered things, but they had souls!
Machines and cold they could be, but what genocidal maniac kept prisoners? And what death-worshipping abomination asked if you got enough exercise? Gave you a meditation chamber? A playroom? Asked if you wanted more salt in our soup?
Aldynn wasn't sure about much, she had never been. But she wondered, and that wonder was like a little ember in her chest, warming her and giving her hope.
------------------
"Taekin? Are you…?"
Aldynn yelped, the bowl almost flying off her hands.
Taekin, chest bare and skin glistening with sweat, stopped in the middle of a combat form and glared at her.
"I am busy," he growled, and swiped the practice blade down in a smooth movement.
Aldynn hid behind her bowl, hoping that it wouldn't melt against her cheeks. "Please put on something," she begged weakly.
Heart thumping in her ears, she heard a scoff, then some rustling, followed by a: "Come on."
Taking it as her cue, she peeked and almost melted in relief in seeing him clad in his mesh armor. Armor, which was starting to stink real bad, she noticed with some dread. It took her some courage to give the Necrons her robes for cleaning, and some more to put on the simple ones they gave her in exchange, but nothing bad had come from it, had it?
Some of what she thought must have shown on her face because Taekin's expression tightened.
"Don't waste my time," he growled, and turned away. "I am busy."
Aldynn looked at the bed, freshly made, the small wardrobe where a few simple robes were lain, the meditation rug, roughly pushed aside to make space for bare-footed forms, the trunk where the ghosthelm, rune armor, shortsword and, more importantly, satchel of Soulstones rested. All objects speaking of a simple, spartan existence. Hers, in her room, which Taekin had taken the habit of hiding away when he didn't want to be disturbed. Aldynn suspected that the Vesperian took flaunting the Necrons offerings, like ignoring the very well-equipped gym or sleeping and living everywhere but in his room as an attempt at preserving his freedom.
Aldynn worried at the bowl, sneaking glances at Taekin's fast-moving shape. Part of her field apprenticeship had consisted in monitoring and easing the communication between the Siblings.
"Make no mistake, my apprentice. They will hate you for it," Kelmon, her wise master, had told her. "Like all those like them, their bonds is them and they are their bond. It shapes them, setting them in a place between life and death, giving them meaning and purpose even as it robs them of the chance of sharing it. It makes them jealous of it, and we that dare to meddle elicit their undying rage, no matter how good our intentions may be. So steel yourself for their barbs and fault them not, for they are needed and their outrage is to be understood."
Aldynn had taken the lesson at heart. Twins were prized among the Eldar, their birth an omen of fortune, and the loss of one a tragedy she could scarcely imagine to the other. She would allow far more to pass than insults and cold shoulders when it came to them.
But she was worried. Since their capture, the simmering antipathy between her and the Siblings had flared into full-blown hostility. Taekin watched her like it was her fault that The Lament had been destroyed and glared every time she accepted anything from the Necrons, his presence a cloud of flame stinging her perceptions with daggers of hostility. But she could accept it. What worried her was that Taekin carried his sister's Soul Stone with him at every moment, and the dead sibling's aura was a storm of furious emotions that shook her with its intensity. She feared its effects on Taekin's mind. The sibling was more open to suggestions from his dead twin than anyone else.
As a Spiritseer, she knew rituals meant to appease the dead, to calm them, but…
"Mh, Taekin?"
The Vesperian's raptor eyes were on her in a heartbeat. Aldynn swallowed. "Don't… don't you think that it's t-time for… the rituals? It-it would relieve your sister and…"
The chainsword slapped an inch away from her feet, making her jump.
Taekin's eyes could have been orbs of fire for how much they glowed. "Shut up," he hissed through gritted teeth. "You won't touch my sister, traitor."
Aldynn stepped back, feeling like he had just slapped her. Tears stung at her eyes, words failing her.
A polite cough broke the moment.
Chalchun, the small Cryptek riding atop a Canoptek construct, hovered by the door. Despite the expressionless mask making up his face, he still managed to look curious.
"Sorry to interrupt," he coughed. He straightened up, trying so hard to look and sound formal that it went from grotesque to straight funny. "I am here to inform both of you that the High Mistress will hold a social dinner twelve micro-cycles from now. Also, Her Highness extends her invitation to join her for a light refreshment after the public event."
O-oh…! Of course the terrifying Necron Lord who destroyed The Lament and upon whose whim their lives rested had to call them just when she was struggling not to cry. Aldynn tried to speak, but all she managed was a hiccup.
"Drop the pretenses," Taekin growled. "This is no invitation. We cannot refuse as much as you abominations can talk of dinners."
Aldynn didn't think she could jump out of her skin. At the moment, it felt very likely. But Chalchun didn't sound angry.
"But of course you can," Chalchun replied smoothly, optics turning toward the Sibling. "Her Highness's moments of leisure are too important to be allowed for anything but serenity and acceptance to impinge upon them. But I can't say I advise it. Her presence alone is bringer of all kinds of boons."
Aldynn wanted to scream. Of course it would be! It would be the first chance since… whenever it was they were captured to try and ask for something! The idea that she wasn't sure how long it was since then scared her but she refused to think about it.
Taekin had to think the same because he hesitated. "It's an outrage," he said. "Why would we be invited only to the private setting?" He almost looked pleased to have found a reason to complain.
Chalchun paused, in the way Aldynn had come to associate with thinking. "It's the opposite," he said, formality sliding off him like a forgotten cloak. "The private henqet hetep is reserved for guests the sovereign deems worthy of the honor of her august presence. There won't even be differences in seating or guards apart from the most basic, to show the informal nature of the gathering. The public senut is instead open to a far larger number of invitees, whom gain their invitation by dint of their noble status. Its participants are called to bask in the sovereign's glory rather than to share her favor." He sounded more puzzled than annoyed, like he wondered why they would ever say no. "It's a great honor, reserved only for the most favored of Lords." He shrugged. "Also, we call it dinner by tradition. I won't bore you with the details, but it's more about circuits and what we call Ma'at. The Proper Way of Things, you would call it." He tilted his head, optics blinking. "What should I report to the Mistress?"
"We'll come!" Aldynn blurted out, anticipating Taekin. She rubbed her eyes, swallowed, then tried again, a little more firmly. "We thank the High Mistress for her invitation. We'll come for sure."
Chalchun put his hands together and bowed, then left, leaving her under Taekin's smouldering gaze.
Aldynn looked away, eyes stinging. Sometimes, she truly hated how weak she could be.
----------
The Necrons didn't make demands about clothes, but Eldar pride would allow nothing but the best, which in their case was little, Aldynn had to admit. Her psycho-mesh was what it was and the sword at her hip felt like a badly-kept toothpick. As for Taekin, well, even the proud dignity of a Wraithknight pilot had its limits when you stank.
Part of Aldynn felt guilty. She should have been able to convince him to swap his clothes, at least.
Chalchun led the way, the Cryptek's stead – was that the right term? - hitting the floor with a metallic lack of rhythm. The hulking forms of Necron elites dotted the corridors, and their staves echoed dully as they slammed them against the floor in an eerie unison. Each time, Chalchun stopped, making arcane gestures and mumbling things which she managed only to catch in shreds.
If he was impressed, Taekin didn't show it, but Aldynn knew that she was. Part of her was starting to understand that the Necrons were things of rituals. Everything of importance they did was formalized, ritualized into solemnity. Even a simple affair like a private dinner was held with the same aplomb and measure of a temple celebration. Even as she wondered why, Aldynn was surprised by how different and at the same time similar it was to her race's habits.
The hall they led them to was small by Necron standards, or it was from what few spaces she had seen of the complex at least. A walkway, large enough that a phalanx of Wraithguards could have walked abreast across it, led to a platform, a corridor of Elites leading the way. A table with four chairs had been set on it, the furniture carved in the shimmering, black, stony metal the Necrons seemed to use for everything. Gloom surrounded it, receding into pitch-black darkness the farther one went from it.
Chalchun led them to it, then stepped aside, still murmuring his strange lithany. To her self-reproach, Aldynn forgot him quickly. She heard Taekin inspire, but she was a bit busy trying to find her breath.
The High Mistress was… a sight. A Necron shouldn't have looked so vibrant, so alive and graceful as she lounged on her throne.
Viridian eyes set on a featureless mask like stars in the night sky settles on her, and she felt naked. Here was an ancient being, she felt with the hammer of certainty, far older than any of her race and with enough power in one of her breaths to crush her bones and crack her mind open, unveil every secret, every shame, every little lie. The way The Lament had been devoured by darkness flitted across her mind like a ghost. She shivered.
Elegant fingers flicked in a beckoning motion, and Aldynn almost tripped on her own feet as she realized they were given leave to approach.
"You're here," the Mistress said, the quiet pleasure in her voice somehow managing to make her relax and tense at the same time. She tilted her head in greeting, first to Taekin and then to her. Aldynn repressed the need to worry at her sleeve. "I hope your accommodations have been to your satisfaction. I had my Crypteks gather what information we have in our archives and come up with something that I hope will be better than what you've been offered until now." She gestured, and Aldynn tore her attention away from those eyes to look at the table. In a bit of a daze, she saw pots and cutlery, all of them looking peculiarly simple for the setting.
It's a private dinner, right. Was that the reason? She wasn't sure… also, she was going off-topic. She was so nervous!
Chalchun reached out and took the cover off one of the pots, cutting her reverie short. The smell hit her like meditation incense. That was…
"O-oh…!" Aldynn realized the Mistress was looking at her, probably waiting for a comment. Also, she may have been drooling a little. "I-I am sorry. It's…" She clamped her mouth shut and blushed. Was it too much to hope for a hole to open beneath her feet now?
The Mistress' eyes narrowed with amusement. "Think nothing of it," she conceded. "It only means I did something right. Have a seat."
After they were seated – little scarabs moved the chairs for them, Aldynn realized with delight -, Taekin glared at the empty chair.
"I expected another," the Mistress said casually. A big construct shaped like the nightmare of a spider skittered by. It tipped a jug, filling the glass waiting in front of her with thick, shimmering oil. "Regretfully, he doesn't seem to be one for social gathering, or leisure for all that matter." She shrugged, shoulders moving with a delicate smoothness that shouldn't have belonged to a machine. "The work, the work and all that entails. We all take it so very seriously. It's my opinion it shouldn't always be so." She took a sip and sighed, leaning back against the throne.
For a long moment, she didn't speak, just watching them. "You both look healthy. It pleases me." The glass clacked as she put it down. "I must apologize. Certain matters have been taking my attention and I couldn't entertain you like I feel I should have. But I aim to change things now." She showed them her palm in a strange, welcoming gesture. "So go ahead. Ask your questions. I'll answer them as much as I am able."
A moment passed, and Aldynn shuddered, realizing they had been given leave to speak. Before too…! Knowing when to be silent was so ingrained in the Path System that it rarely needed to be enforced. They really are ritual-bound, she thought with a spark of marvel.
Shame that Taekin seemed to realize the same.
"You have no right!" He snapped, shooting at his feet, slamming both hands on the table. Cutlery wobbled before being yanked back into their position by something invisible. "I demand you leave me and my sister go immediately!" Taekin's presence flared like a supernova, matched by her sister's.
Aldynn almost whimpered. Me and my sister? But what about… n-never mind that! Wringing her hands, she sneaked a glance toward her host… and was surprised to find that the Mistress was watching her, not the Eldar that had most likely broke some sacred code of conduct, if the way Chalchun was fretting, or how some of the Necron elite were slowly stirring to life, was anything to go by.
The Mistress made no gesture and spoke no word, but something must have been passed, because they returned to their post like nothing ever happened. In the heavy silence that followed, even Taekin seemed to lose a bit of his poise, and even more when she shifted to look at him.
"You stink," she commented lightly. Taekin reared up, stung pride emanating from him, but before he could speak, the smile disappeared from the Mistress' face. "Sit down, brat."
Aldynn quaked. The words went through her like the sonic boom from a Wraithfighter acceleration run; they rattled the teeth in her mouth and popped her ears. Taekin held his ground for a moment, then he sit back down slowly, glaring.
"Good," the Mistress picked up her glass, the genteel host once more. "Chalchun? What do the Necron conduct of war says?"
The Cryptek skittered forward. He cleared his throat, the sound coming out as processors shifting, then intoned:
"If prisoners are made in honorable combat, the rank-and-file shall be left at the Phaeron's generosity, while those of Noble Blood are to be given all regards appropriate to their rank and offered the chance to be ransomed at will. If no ransom is forthcoming, the Phaeron is to offer them unto the Triarchs, so that an arbitrate and peaceful resolution can be found under the merciful gaze of the Silent One. Yet, should those of Noble Blood be made into prisoners after being cornered in a clearly unwinnable position, should they be offered terms of surrender under oath and yet refuse and engage and be defeated, then they forfeit all rights apportioned at their rank and are to be given to the conquering Phaeron's mercy." He bowed. Aldynn's lips had gone dry.
"And that's about Necron Nobles." The Mistress's visors had gone blank, the equal of keeping her eyes closed, Aldynn thought. "What about those belonging to other races? What does the code of war say about them?"
Chalchun took a moment to answer, whirring coming from his head. "Nothing, Your Highness," he intoned. "Aliens aren't given a place in the sacred codes. Their status is not recognized and as such, not-existent."
"Not-existent," the Mistress repeated, and regarded them. Aldynn felt like she was floating.
"The Biel-Tan won't stay for this…!" His gauntlets creaked from how tight his fists were.
"Not-existent," she repeated, ignoring him. She was watching her, a certain… questioning there. "Yet, you weren't treated as such. You were given all the accommodations a Noble of my race would have. Even if someone didn't see fit to make use of some of them." She winked at her. Taekin bristled. Aldynn's head spun. "So no, you won't be probed, won't be analyzed, won't be disassembled and I won't try to see if an Eldar can be turned into a Necron." Her intrigued tone never wavered as she said that. Aldynn was glad she was seated. "In fact, you will be treated well for all the time I'll get to enjoy your company. You'll be given food, clothes and medical assistance and anything you may need. And when your Craftworld decides to make its presence known, you will be returned to them alongside all the Soulstones my soldiers salvaged, and the scraps if you want them."
Neither spoke as they digested her words. Taekin broke the silence.
"Why?"
The Mistress tilted her head at him. "Why not?"
The pilot opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. "You mean to deceive us," he eventually said. "You deceived me already, goaded me into a fight and destroyed many of us. You will do the same!"
Aldynn watched him, startled. That… that's not how things went. But… how would Taekin know if the Necrons kept their words anyway? It… it wasn't such an easy decision to make. Fighting to the death was a better fate than being taken prisoners by soulless monstrosities.
Right?
The Mistress didn't seem off-put. "This too will take time, mh?" She nursed her glass, looking away, into the darkness.
Taekin glared at her, his soul blazing with conflicting urges. "You fear us," he growled eventually. "You fear the Biel-Tan and come at us through underhanded means." Aldynn felt it like a glass of water hitting a burning throat. Relief, for a clear explaination that fit with his worldview. It… it made sense.
She turned to them. There was unfettered amusement in her eyes now, blinking like mischievious stars.
"Well, about that…"
The platform shuddered. Taekin darted around, looking almost pleased to be back in a dangerous setting. Aldynn didn't quite agree. With her enhanced perceptions, she felt it first.
Gigantic. Stalking the darkness. Ponderous, heavy, with power enough that The Lament was but a chick before it. A cold mind of gears and circuits, with fangs that knew no denial but from the mightiest of Asuryan's children.
Two of them.
And Aldynn knew that neither she nor Taekin were among the mightiest children of the Creator.
"What…" The whisper died in her mouth as the Mistress put a finger to her lips.
Unable to breath, even to swallow, she listened, trembling. The monsters moved in the dark, and she glimpsed colossal stalks and whirring optics burning with light; she guessed enormous cannons crackling with unholy energies, imagined Titans wounded to death by lances of furious power.
The Mistress's gaze held her and Taekin both. "Fear, mh?"
It passed. The monsters were banished back into the abyss where they waited and brooded and sharpened their cold fury and she could breath again.
Panting, she glanced at Taekin, concerned. The pilot was pale, but his expression remained resolute. In his mind, The Lament had been the pinnacle of might, a colossal war machine of unparalleled power and grace. But the Titans stood above, in the airy cosmos of unbridled might undreamed even by a Wraithknight. And as for those who could fell Titans…
Aldynn shivered.
"Enough serious business!" The Mistress clapped, and it was like curtains falling on a Harlequin scene and rising over another.
Dazed, Aldynn had the time to realize the scampering of many feet, before something big and soft smacked against her chest, making her squeak.
She blinked, and Aldynn, Spiritseer apprentice, found herself staring at one of the strangest creatures she had ever seen.
It vaguely resembled a now-extinct Terran animal that the Mon'keigh had long favored - dogs, they called them from what little she remembered -, but black, somewhat edgy, like someone had tried to carve an approximation of the animal from stone and metal and plastic. Except that it had a mane, it felt amazingly soft and shimmered with waves of blue and white as it moved.
The animal's nose had something reptilian mixed in it, and two tails wagged happily behind it instead of only one. A long tongue lolled out as it breathed with enthusiasm, just beneath two… two buttons?
Oh my gods, it's so cute! It was like a plushie had come to life. And more of them surrounded her chairs, begging for attention. Aldynn almost tore up there and then.
Head spinning, she saw a thoroughly distraught Taekin surrounded by small creatures with blinking lights for eyes and little paws and round, thighly furred bodies. The pilot made boggle eyes at one who climbed on his shoulder and loafed there, resting one of his large cheek on a paw.
Ohmygodsit'ssocute! Aldynn needed to pet it. Now.
"Pesed," the Mistress explained, amused, while she pounced. A serpentine creature with silvery, iridescent scales and four piercing eyes beneath a pronounced brow twisted gracefully around her wrist and hand. "Bright Ones, in your language. Some of my peers didn't wish to go into immortality without their favored pets, so they were afforded the passage as well." She caressed it, the creature's frills quivering in pleasure. "They took to their new existences quite well."
Aldynn was too busy melting away petting a round creature's luscious fur to speak, so it was Taekin who did.
"More abo…" A "dog" clung enthusiastically to him, begging for pets, until he threw it away. The creature stopped mid-air, fell back on his feet and charged back, not a beat lost. "More abominations," the pilot grumbled, surrendering under the creature's eagerness. But there was no heat behind his words. "Do they have any use?" He tried and failed to push the dog away.
"Military speaking? Not one," the Mistress replied, amused. The serpent formed elaborate formations around her forearms, stopping only to receive a petting on his head. "But they're cute, are they not?"
Aldynn agreed with that. Why, she would even go as far as to say that they were very cute.
Still, she had to ask.
"And did… did it hurt?" She asked. The little creature in her lap felt so fragile, so innocent. She would hate to think it had suffered.
The Mistress watched her for a moment. "Oh, C'tan be damned," she scoffed, and before Aldynn knew what was happening, she was being patted herself.
Aldynn met Taekin's startled look with a nervous smile of her own. But hey, it… it was nice, she guessed?
"Now, shall we eat? Here we have..."
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"I had pleasure speaking with you. We'll talk again when these matters will be resolved."
"It's… it's a problem, Your Highness?"
"Nuisances, my dear, people who just love to make a bother of themselves. But this Galaxy is full with them, isn't it? No need to lose your mind every time a good-for-nothing comes knocking."
"A-ah, I see…"
"Run along now. Next time, I'll answer all the questions you have."
"Q-questions, Your Highness?"
"Of course. I was there when your race was created, my dear. I saw your Gods. I know that you have plenty of questions about that."
"O-oh… oh! Right… right."
A chuckle. This little girl had to stop being this adorable.
"And do tell your friend to at least try and shower, would you? All the pride in the world won't save him from looking the fool."
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ACTION RESULTS
+ 2% to Lament of the Aeldari questline
+ 4% to The Great War questline
By getting closer to your prisoners, you unlocked the chance, very vague, to make peaceful contact with the Biel-Tan. Do not count on it, but it's something, right?
AC - War. War never changes. And so are the filled episodes while people are shouting each other in the main scenario. Or maybe this is the main scenario? Dunno. Necron dogs are very cute though.
In the old Eldar lore, the kerfuffle with the one hundred swords had Necrons in it and Eldanesh was the guy with the failed sword. In the new one, Eldanesh got flanked by Ulthanesh and Khaine got turned into a quasi-Chaos God working devious schemes and being an all-around bad person, whom very much deserved to be owned by Slaanesh. In all versions, the Necrons are very secondary to the War in Heaven (Aeldari Version), with no mention at all of the Old Ones, which I find very interesting. It seems to speak a lot about the late descent of the Eldar in decadence, especially about the ego. Their "modern" mythology is very self-centric, with Asuryan having created everything for their amusement and the Eldar Gods responsible for everything. Very similar to the Imperium in that, but don't tell them I said that. Anyway, I am playing with the lore, mixing and matching. It's all so nebulous that we can go about it as much as one want.
Things as they are, heavy doses of patting will be needed to set them straight. Good thing we have more than enough.
I have a feeling it would be more in character if people of 40k used more non-specific vocabulary. Why would an Eldar know what a potato is...
They would probably call it a tuber.
Oh dear, I hope that Hoeth turned into Cegorath in this quest, that would be wild plot twist for eldar
birdmaster01
Big Tech's Strongest Soldier
I thought fighting and beating the Mirror Devils would be a point of pride for them.what a shame
- Location
- yorkshire
I want to strangle the historical revionist that made the necons the arch rivals and elder species to you elder the propaganda is strong with this one I really want to give our guests a historical lesson
I mean the thing is that they didn't won. War in Heaven ended in draw or arguably Pyrthic victory of silent king.
Old Ones were dead and gone, revenge for "denying" Necrontyr immortality was achived.
C'tan were shattered and enslaved, revenge for enslaving Necrontyr and eating their souls was achived.
The reason why Necrons went to sleep was Krorks and Eldar (but mostly krorks) being able to defeat weakened necrons and generally galaxy being shit, so going to sleep would let them krorks and eldar sort themselves out.
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... Something is being borne there. This girl deserves all the headpats.
Cool to know we still got both Seraptects... Gotta say. Seeing Eldars behave themselfs is oddly theraputic
How early in the decade is the Blood eye visiting? Must be early...
That was very nice and fun update. Thanks for the feels.
- Location
- Brazil
But they didn't win at all? They lost, hard. The Necron killed all the Old Ones and shattered the C'Tan in revenge, after this weakened them and the Kronk lost control and became Orks, they decided it was best to go into hibernation and let time deal with the remaining servants of their enemies.
There is no way to say that the Eldar emerged as the victors of the War in Heaven and being the proud bastards that they are, especially towards the end of their Empire, of course they would do some pretty strong revisionism.
But I wonder if they erased the references to the Old Ones just so there wouldn't be anyone stronger than their gods or because they didn't want to admit it or remember that their entire race and gods were just made as mere soldiers and not anything special?
I really, really want to continue doing the Eldar actions because surprisingly we are making some progress, a small step but in this cursed universe it is still an achievement, and for Xoranthis time is the thing she has the most.
We have already started with Aldynn, we knew she would be the easiest to start with, but I hope that in the future we will also get Taekin to open up, because we discovered that he has some weaknesses that we can target so that he will listen more. Maybe we will have more specific actions to target this and make more progress? Or maybe just the more general action of gradually making progress in both of our goals?
And even though he is quite prickly, for some reason I like Taekin, in a way that makes me want to kind of pat him comfortingly and kind of strangle him, lol. I hope we can connect with him too and not just Aldynn.
Either way, this is a great update.
- Location
- yorkshire
Yeah the necrons are the winners of the war in heaven even I n the current time they are far better of then the shadow that the elder have become the chance for the elder to end the necrons was at the hight of there empire but they have squnded that chance
- Location
- barking
I disagree with anyone winning the war in heaven, the c'tan were broken, the necrons went to a sleep that ruined most of them (with harlquinns breaking the tomb worlds, some going into slayer virus mode and others just never turning back on with the slient king pissing of till he spoted traynids and went oh shit) time has not been kind to the necrons, the old ones were wiped out, the koraks became orks and the eldar ruled the galaxy for 60 million years but eventally become the mess it did in the end. their were no winners as all eventally fell the eldar were just the last (the dark eldar have the eldars former super weapons which shows a lot as they cant use them).
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- Pronouns
- He/Him
Nah, the Necrons won. A pyrrhic victory still has 'victory' in it.
- Location
- yorkshire
the necrons compered to the eldar have a better strategic position tbh