Commandeering swift footed nauglir from a nearby outpost, the Regiment rushed south, guided by Sylleth’s taste of Slaaneshi taint upon the winds. Sparing the cold blooded beasts no mercy, the Druchii raced on until breaking out of the gorge they saw it; a field of ruin, the sight of a massacre. Horses and elves torn to pieces, their remains spread across the field. Whatever mighty force had been sent from Tor Achare now lay shredded before them, lithe daemonettes crouched over the corpses, feasting on the carrion and toying with the dead, making sounds no mortal was ever meant to hear.
In the midst of the horror, a small nascent portal was forming, spewing out corruption into fair Chrace, next to which stood a tall and powerful figure clad in strange armour, his back adorned with the hide of a white stag. Noticing the Druchii force, the man turned to face them, and greeted them as one would welcome a guest, a warm smile on his unnaturally beautiful face, slightly spoiled by the sight of razor sharp teeth, “Welcome, join the dance.” Finally free, released to the physical realm, Erling was relishing every delicious moment, and hungered for more horror.
He beckoned Caranordor with a gesture of his hand, as the daemonettes all turned at once to face the Regiment, dropping their spoils to gaze hungrily upon the Druchii. Slowly rising, one by one, they threw themselves upon their new guests with hotels and snarls, preparing to tear them apart. Simultaneously the figure at the portal grinned as the air fell about the stones with a heady musky scent. With every step forward, the cloud of perfumed air grew thicker and the Dark Elves felt their senses dulled and perverted by the vapours as the aura permeated their bodies, leaving them weak. The influence of such corruption seemed to affect the Druchii in different ways. Ithilsyn knew that she had to do something; drawing a ward about herself, she felt confused, finding that she had forgotten the last weave of the spell. What was it? Searching her mind she could not remember what she was trying to do, could not remember what was lost to her. Sathari swayed lightly as the ground around her seemed to sprout thin fleshy tentacles that latched on to her legs, holding her still as more appeared to seek her arms. Vithari placed a hand on the side of her head, unable to keep her focus on anything, looking around in a daze, whilst Zyli glanced at her hand, feeling a cut across the top of it, more thin wounds appearing on her skin. Only Sylleth appeared unaffected, smiling to herself amid the madness. “I would not recommend for you to use dhar against this, in a magic mess like this,” she advised, recognising the powers at play around her.
The wave of daemonettes took advantage of the confusion, charging upon the Druchii through pink-hued smoke like a nightmare given form, their lithe bodies dancing acrobatically as their black eyes focussed on their prey with deadly thirst. Erling laughed at the Commander before turning to focus his sorceries on the small portal at the foot of the waystone, seeking to channel more of his pets into this realm.
As the attack fell upon them, Sathari cursed inwardly, hacking with her sword at the tentacles wrapped around her legs and cutting away the others seeking to grab a hold around her limbs. Finally breaking free, she raised her shield just as a daemonette leaped at her. The fell abomination screamed rage as it slammed against steel, clawing angrily in a bid to shred the Druchii’s flesh. Sathari swung her sword in an arc motion, it’s edge finding the daemonette’s throat, in a decapitating blow. Gretka flew forward with her knives, bringing them together in a sweeping strike that was parried against a crab-like claw, an amused and pitying smile upon the daemonette’s face as the beautiful monstrosity lashed out in riposte, its tongue licking the air to taste such delicious fear.
Ithilsyn gazed upon the terrifyingly alluring creatures swarming them. Lifting her staff, she uttered something... what was it now? She was not sure. Using their advantage, the lilac skinned creatures stuck at Vexra and Ithilsyn, whilst Caranordor seemed to be waving his halberd around at nothing but mist. Vithari too seemed to be absentmindedly swinging her blade, as if the pair were fighting visions only they could see. Sathari noticed the clawing daemonettes sprinting towards the two sorceresses, and dashed forward, but out of time. The first reached the confused seeress, who in frustration swung her staff out, unable to remember a spell. Expecting magic, the daemonette was not prepared for such a simple measure, and screamed as iron met skull, knocking it rolling across the ground. Finally finding strength in her will alone, she felt a moment of clarity. Curling her lip, she narrowed her eyes and sent a blinding flash of power towards a daemonette, it’s graceful body thrashing as its head exploded in a spray of gore.
The hateful wave of daemonettes swept screeching around their foes, and back towards the portal to regroup and press for a second attack. Caranordor stepped forward, swinging his halberd again seemingly at an illusion, failing to connect with anything. Vithari too continued to do the same. Glancing forward at Erling, the Commander shouted out, “Sathari! Sathaaari! Kill that man, he’s commanding them!”
Hearing the order, Sathari glanced back with a nod then dashed forward as the fight continued. Beginning a heavy laden charge, still feeling the effects of the corruption that had attacked her, she felt her senses grow dull. Every step was a trial as she begun to think to herself that she was so mistaken. Her true foe lay behind her! With this in her mind, she turned her charge and rushed headlong towards Andariyel with a feral yell. Ithilsyn glanced at the scene, tilting her head. What was this? Sathari and Andayirel fighting? She smiled at the entertainment, then realising these thoughts were not her own, fought again to master her will against the taint about her.
Zyli flipped through the air, bringing her knives down together in a stabbing blow to a daemonette’s heart as Sylleth pointed towards the sorcerer at the central waystone, interjecting, “He can’t support the aura and summon the daemons at the same time! There have to be more cultists here nearby.”
The sorcerer at the portal seemed to be focussing the entirety of his attention to the summoning of daemons. A protective aura shimmered around him, clearly channelled by another. Realising that Sylleth must be right, the command was given for a handful of Druchii to seek out the ones aiding Erling. Caranordor called out, “Olgra, Zyli, Vithari, Ithilsyn, Gretka! Find them. Move now, or you won’t survive my wrath!” The seeress glanced to Sylleth, knowing that her abilities would help them to locate the source of taint more quickly as Caranordor gathered the Druchii on the gore soaked field for another attack, Sathari and Andayriel still mindlessly fighting each other.
“Lead on Sylleth,” uttered the seeress, breathing in the musk and losing her clarity for a moment, adding, “Isn't it lovely here...”
Erling laughed at the pathetic attempts of the Druchii. Whispering two forbidden names, another pair of daemonettes lightly slid from the portal, like newborn infants, looking around.
Leaving their kin to face the battle at the waystones, those chosen for the search party felt their senses return to them as they cleared the area of influence of taint around the stones, determined cries growing ever more weary from the battle behind them. Blinking as clarity restored itself, Ithilsyn found herself at the Stone of Valetear. How did she get here? She purged herself of taint, calling up the pools of raw magic around the stones. Glancing at the scene behind her, the Chaos sorcerer at the portal, and disarray amid the carnage, she smirked. Of course. Now it was clear. She felt better. Stronger. Will and wrath drove her onward, with her kin into the hills above the stones.
Low trees, not unlike ash and blackthorn clung to the cliffs, providing a sparse amount of cover. As they hiked upwards above Valetear, a purplish scintillation emanated, which surrounded them with a thrumming and buzzing noise, resonating with the beating of a heart as they drew closer to its source. Upon their skin fell a warm pleasant tingle, beckoning them to the realm of dreams. And there she was. On a ledge overlooking the waystones, a young woman was seated on her knees, her head wobbling in rhythm to the sorcerous pulse emanating from her as her lips moved without sound. Flanked by two daemonettes, entranced in an equal manner, the rite of opening was being practiced from here. All three ceased their motion and focussed their gaze on the Druchii as the approached, the young woman smiling crookedly as she acknowledged those who had interrupted her rite with a spell meant to weaken them. Zyli and Olgra found themselves halted as thin tentacles burst up from the ground, gripping their ankles. Gretka lost all control of her limbs, her knives falling from her grip, crying out “Khaine!” in rage filled frustration, whilst confusion again addled Vithari's mind..
Yet Ithilsyn smiled. If cool vengeance, the seduction of hate had a face, it would be the one that the seeress now threw upon her foe. “Ah, there you are.” she purred, as if speaking to an old friend. Lahmia, hands bloody to the wrists, smiled back at the sorceress, her daemonettes mimicking her every movement as Ithilsyn focussed, holding raw power within her, finding a balance with the forces within, holding them, waiting for the right moment. “Come to revel in pleasure, Druchii?” the cultist asked.
“Perhaps I could show you? Hmm?” the seeress replied as she gracefully stepped forth, her staff raised. Lahmia seemed delighted by this, and sent the daemonettes at her side rushing forwards to welcome the seeress with bloody torment. Ithilsyn laughed and batted them away with a sweep of her staff, seemingly channelling some great force through her, one of the daemonettes evaporating in a bloody mist. “Is that the best you’ve got, harlot?” she smirked.
“Do not kill it!” cried Sylleth, causing suspicions again in Ithilsyn’s mind of the tainted sorceress’s part in all of this. Lahmia began to laugh manically, “My heart bleeds for your apathy. Spill your blood!”
Her kin were taking sorcerous wounds behind her. Their lives would be forfeit before long, but so be it. Victory had to be assured, at any cost. Ithilsyn raised her hand, casting ruin upon a daemonette whose body twisted and shrivelled, before snapping with shrieks of pleasured agony. “Oh my Prince, my sweetest Prince...” Lahmia uttered, bemused by the sight of one of her guardians falling, before lashing out with a long barbed whip shimmering with Chaos magic. Sylleth attempted to dispel the attack but nothing happened. "A rune splits, a rune aligns, a rune dims and a rune shines!” babbled the cultist.
“Your voice is annoying...” muttered Vithari, bleeding from countless cuts. The cultist replied with more ravings, “Where is the door? I’ve lost the door!” as Sylleth attempted to weaken her with a Pavane of Slaanesh which failed. Vithari staggered forwards, swinging her sword in a sweep that was so slow it would not have bit should it have even landed... which it did not. Ithilsyn reached out her palm and uttered a Word of Agony which had the cultist falling to her knees. Lahmia clasped her head, screaming in pain and slammed her hand on the ground. After a moment, she looked up at the seeress, seething with fury, before leaping upwards, a dagger in her hand, slicing at the Druchii woman’s face. Seeing the attack coming, Ithilsyn swung her staff again, knocking the cultist to the floor. Placing a foot on Lahmia’s throat, she looked down at the wretch with a defiant smirk on her lips. “Fret not, Sylleth. This one isn’t going anywhere.”
“Where is the door? I’ve lost the door?” raved Lahmia, as Vithari viciously slashed at her with her blade. The Slaaneshi cultist let out a fell shriek as the aura around her waned and the Dark Elves’ full senses returned to them. Plunging to the ground with a howl, she landed heavily on the rocky ground below where she clawed about in a frantic daze, her body writing in agony. Her insane ramblings remained curiously unchanged as she repeated the words with anguished wailing, as the Druchii on the ledge make their way to the cliff’s edge to gaze down at her. The poor thing seemed to have broken a leg rather badly, and was attempting to crawl away to escape. Sylleth looked at her with feigned sympathy and hissed a laugh, “Not so fast, sweety...” Gretka gripped her knives and laughed.
If you wish to join us or learn more about us check this topic:
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Previous Chapters:
Chapter I - viewtopic.php?f=55&t=23964
Chapter II - viewtopic.php?f=55&t=24190
Chapter III - viewtopic.php?f=55&t=24669
Chapter IV - viewtopic.php?f=55&t=24808
Chapter V - viewtopic.php?f=55&t=24875
Chapter VI - viewtopic.php?f=55&t=24880
Chapter VII - viewtopic.php?f=55&t=24898
Chapter VIII - viewtopic.php?f=55&t=24937
Chapter IX - viewtopic.php?f=55&t=24976
Chapter X - viewtopic.php?f=55&t=24979
Chapter XI - viewtopic.php?f=55&t=25000
Chapter XII - viewtopic.php?f=55&t=25033
