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post #8 of (permalink) Old 10-11-15, 08:11 AM
Serpion5
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Bloody minded savages. Mon Keigh were brutish enough to begin with, but those aligned with the gods of Chaos even more so. He could sense it everywhere, bloodlust for its own sake rather than for the more refined pleasures it could provide. He listened to his orders with minimal interest. A dagger? Wonderful. Simply magnificent, his latest task set him as a mere errand boy among a gaggle of trained monkeys. Bloody Tooth be damned, it was a dagger tainted by fickle human touch as much as the blasted warp gods that Tilraenen so despised.

The command was given. Tilraenen left the room after a few quiet moments, waiting until most of the others were clear themselves. Whatever agenda each of them had wasn't worth the trouble of getting on their bad sides. Stupid, clumsy, short sighted brutes that they were, they were still brutes in every sense of the word and Tilraenen knew enough about astartes in battle to know he was better off not taking his chances. Not yet at least. Once he had drunk in the suffering of the unfortunate Inquisitor and his retinue, things could yet be different.

The bay of this vessel was a inelegant as everything of human design. Dull metal, crude shaped and sporting hideous signias of corruption and misguided devotion. There were too few of his fellow eldar on board this vessel but given the environment and conditions he could hardly have blamed his kin for keeping away. The dim lighting of the vessel was uncomfortable. Adequate lighting would have only made the ship's flaws even more apparent however, all considered the former kabalite would have been far more comfortable in true dark.

It wasn't time yet. Tilraenen found himself a secluded spot in the shadows, in sight of the ugly human drop pods and sat down. The astartes he had been assigned alongside were about, but he made no effort to talk, not yet. Shifting his cloak into a more comfortable position he drew his knife. Taking off a gauntlet, he started to draw shallow cuts in the back of his hand. A mild pain to relieve a mild boredom...


Nonsense is our Salvation

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