NationStates Jolt Archive

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hehe

I send in 1,000 virgins to increase the birthrate :D

OOC: Ouch...

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((OH Crap HMM))

Rage Pure blinding rage, they all felt it, every single eldar on Tor Yvresse, every Farseer, every child, a Baby freshly born came into the world feeling a rage that burnt inside her. They would have their revenge for this Travesty, but for now they where too late.

They walked the halls of the Craftworld Necropolis alone, through it's darkened halls and lost shrines. The Battered and destroyed homes that had once seen life. The Council had came as one, the secret and the known and they met in the halls of Necropolis and cried, Bitter tears for the lost. Finally they stood in the Dome of Crystal Seers, the brain and soul of a Craftworld, as Khaine was it's Rage, and they wept at the sight.

All around them the silent lost Farseers of this Craftworld stood, age finally caught up with the ageless, as the Dome rapidly crumbled into dust, the Seers of old fading into naught. It was silent, silence in a place that should never be silent, silence in the minds of those that should be able to hear the voices of the past and commune with them.

They stood and watched and felt, and shared, never once speaking to each other, never once reaching out with the mind to talk inside, but all thinking the same, it was over, the peace with the Fallen was over the truce finished. No more shipments of Wraithbone would be sent, no more communications with the fallen, they would seek further revenge in a time, but not yet.

Then they turned and walked away, the teams of Gaurdians moving in setting the explosives and clearing out the Craftworld of anything left of old, any part of it's heritage, so it would not be forgotten, even as they destroyed it's shell, none would come and rape her secrets, that at least they could do.

OOC I will make use of this space. Expect to see tonight I suspect the arrival of something new to Tor Yvresse in this Thread.

Something unusual, something that will scare my fellow 40K players more than a Vaul engine :lol: Something that will give lots of Roleplay chances both Military and strangely enough social.

They are coming...

At last they had finished the clear out, and set into place the charges that would Incinerate the Dead Craftworld, in silence the fleets watched and waited as the countdown began, The Defence fleet of Tor Yvresse reassigned to this one act.

Ishar your Children have been lost, and never to be found,
Vaul your works have been lost never to be rebuilt.
Asuyran your Wisdom lost, never to be seen again,
Khaine your fury has been overcome here, we shall moarn another part of you lost.

Ynnedd the greatest crime has been done unto you, they have delayed your birth and for that we shall find them and take what they stole from you from their hides. For they have today served She-Who-Thirsts. That we shall never forgive.

As the explosion tore throughout space sensors would detect it from Light Years away, throughout the cold depths of space as the mamoth structure was ripped apart in a single flash, Thousends of Billions of Plasma Charges and other darker older technology never used before or, they hoped again, ripped the Craftworld apart, and closing forever the Gates that had existed with in.

An usual side effect was that the light from the gate cut through the Web in those brief seconds and reached Earth from near Mars, in the asteroid Belt it emerged, from Proteus, turning night across Sol into day for the briefest of seconds. across the Web the light would stream, and in many a Craftworld it would be seen and known for what it was, the death of a Craftworld.

((OOC Yes a little over the top in the web, it wouldn't work that way, but I thought this was more dramatic, so I used a little licence))

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((and now earlier than advertised))

They felt the death, and saw the light, and knew it's cause. Deep within the Web they had been traveling for some time, between the various Craftworlds performing, and onto the various places where they where needed, and fighting, in a million ways the fates of worlds had been forever altered, and yet none had seen their hand. They where the Elite of the Eldar, a secret order, a priest hood, custodians of the past, and seekers of the future, and now they knew their goal.

They emerged within Tor Yvresse stepping from the Web with no warning a mesh of colour, a clash of skills, a gracefulness that made other Eldar seem clumsy, confidence oozed from them. and they where here to stay. Numbering a small one Hundred strong the small size of the group should not be mistaken for weakness, they are the Harlequins, and they are here now to stay.

If a stranger was to witness their arrival he would see the Death Jester his armour handed down from the previous Death Jester, litually, as it is formed in part from the Bones of that person, his grim task to provide the face of Death within the plays.

Another individual comes into sight, a mesh of colour forever shifting and a mask that shifts, to be whatever the wearer wishes it to be, the Great Harlequin. Then a Tragic sight a man who speaks rarely and is avoided by his peers, the observent and the wise might spot the tinest of details, yet the singly most important, he wears no spirit stone, when he dies he trusts in the tricks of the Harlequin, for he repersents She-Who-Thirsts and if he is not saved his soul is forfit.

Others come into view, and the company is complete, they pledge their alligence to the Council until the threat of Raem is neutralised, they are here for the duration.