The blade was just inches from its prize when a thin dart split the air and pierced Yriasyl’s right shoulder. Yriasyl noticed the dart immediately and turned around to see Isarioul the Blighted, one of the Kabal’s greatest Haemonculi, staring at a small sand timer.
“You know, I had been hoping to test this out the next time I partook in a real-space raid, but I thank you for giving me the opportunity so soon.” Isarioul hissed.
“What! I hope this isn’t a dissapointment for you, but I don’t feel anything different,” replied Yriasyl as she yanked the dart from her shoulder.
“The compound flowing through your veins is derived from a rare bacterium I have been brewing in one of my less favorite grotesques. When the bacterium reaches the myogenic tissue in your heart, it will activate and secrete an extremely caustic agent. You may not feel anything now, but don’t fret, in about 3 seconds you’ll experience a pain unlike anything you’ve ever felt.”
As if on cue, Yriasyl suddenly bent over, “Oh, oh god, please! I’m on fire!”
“Right now, the agent is being pumped throughout your wretched body, don’t worry, in a few seconds it’ll consume your brain stem and you can sleep.”
Once again, Isarioul was correct in his estimate and Yriasyl tumbled to the ground as the acid began seeping out of her pores.
The child, who had been watching this entire sequence of events without a sound, slowly clapped its hands and giggled, apparently pleased with this new figure and his strange device.
The child’s fiendish grin was echoed in the face of Isarioul, who gave a pleased nod “Ah, I was already intrigued by you, and now I think perhaps I’ve found a new apprentice.”
With a flourish, the Haemonculi spun and left the room, immediately a cohort of wracks entered, picking up the small Dark Eldar in clawed hands and then rushing to follow their master.