I was immersed in the vivid experience of the raid, and found myself blinking back into the dimly lit chamber where my mother and the Medusae awaited. My senses were still tingling with the echoes of battle, the rush of adrenaline, and the stark contrast between the elegant brutality of the Drukhari and the feeble resistance of our foes.
Mother approached me, her eyes gleaming with calculation. "What did you learn from this, my Ezdazar?"
"I learned that speed and precision are our greatest weapons," I replied, my voice tinged with the thrill of what I had just witnessed. "And that every movement, every strike, can be a dance of death."
My mother nodded approvingly. "Good. Remember this well, for one day, you will lead raids like these. The strength of our people lies not just in our blades, but in our ability to inflict fear and extract suffering."
I nodded, my mind already processing the lessons learned from the raid. I have now witnessed firsthand the tactics of the Astartes, the desperation of the defenders, and the ruthless efficiency of the Drukhari. It was a brilliant form of education, one that would prepare me for my future among the Dark Eldar.
As I contemplated the future battles that awaited me, my thoughts briefly drifted back to Viveth, the young wych who had taught me so much about poisons and toxins. I wondered if one day I would fight alongside her, or against her. In the world of the Drukhari, alliances were fleeting, and loyalty was a rare and precious commodity.
But for now, I simply focused on honing my skills, knowing that each lesson, whether in the classroom or on the battlefield, was shaping me into the ruthless and cunning warrior he was destined to become.
In the many months that followed, I delved deeper into my training. My sessions with Viveth continued to expand my growing understanding of poisons and toxins, each lesson pushing the boundaries of my knowledge and resilience. Under her tutelage, I learned not only how to administer these deadly substances but also how to resist their effects—an essential skill for any Drukhari seeking to survive in the cutthroat society of Commorragh.
Meanwhile, the combat training with my mother intensified. Alera, a seasoned warrior and leader among their Cult, spared no effort in preparing me for the harsh realities of their existence. She drilled me in the arts of stealth, ambush, and close-quarters combat, instilling in me the importance of agility and precision in every strike.
"You must move like a shadow" she would say, her voice a whisper that carried the weight of countless battles. "The enemy should never see you coming until it's too late."
I continued to absorb these teachings eagerly, my enthusiasm tempered by the grim determination born from witnessing the raid. I understood that survival in this world demanded far more than just physical prowess—it required cunning, ruthlessness, and a willingness to embrace deception.
As a few years passed, my skills flourished. I became proficient with a variety of weapons favored by the Drukhari—splinter rifles, agonizers, and my favorite, the shardblade—a shimmering blade infused with dark energies that could slice through armor as easily as flesh. Slowly my reflexes sharpened, senses heightened, and abilities grew stronger.
I rarely found moments of respite. But when I could I would steal away to the spires of Commorragh, gazing out over the twisted cityscape that sprawled beneath them. The spires reached towards the heavens like jagged teeth, casting long shadows that seemed to pulse with malevolent energy. It was a city of eternal twilight, where every alleyway held secrets and every pleasure came tinged with pain.
In those quiet moments, I would sometimes think of Viveth—the wych whose beauty was matched only by her deadly skill. I would think of Derreah and the Astartes woman who I could never catch the name of.
One evening, as I watched the distant flicker of skirmishes play out in the lower levels of Commorragh, I sensed a presence behind me. I turned to find Viveth standing there, her black eyes gleaming in the dim light.
"Ezdazar," she said, her voice a melodic whisper that sent shivers down my spine. "You have been progressing well."
I nodded, unable to suppress the surge of pride at her words. "Thank you, Viveth. Your teachings have been invaluable."
She smiled, a sly grin etched across her face. "You have potential, Ezdazar. But remember, in our world, potential is meaningless without the strength to seize it."
With those cryptic words, she turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving me to ponder their meaning. I knew that in Commorragh, alliances were fragile and trust was a luxury few could afford. Yet I simply couldn't shake the feeling that Viveth saw something in me—something more than just a promising student.
As the distant sounds of battle echoed through the spires, I made a silent vow. I would continue to hone my skills, to push myself far beyond my limits, and to embrace the darkness that coursed through my veins. I sat there in silence for a while, ruminating over my teachings from the last five years. I was six now and barely had time to think for myself except in these small moments.
In these six years, I had been under a total of 13 assassination attempts, with many more likely in the future. The closest call was a poison bomb tossed into my window by a speeding corsair as it flew away. Luckily, I managed to evacuate the room in time before the smoke could kill me.
Mother was quite furious that day. I chuckled to myself, rocking my legs back and forth. I think she flayed them and used them in the raid I witnessed all those years ago. I was much larger than I had been a few years ago, already standing at 5ft 8in. I had vibrant purple eyes that seemed to have gained a few flecks of red in recent years.
I had dark purple hair and a handsome face, if a bit young. I was certainly a charmer if the recent Archon proposals were anything to go by, which was truly driving my mother crazy as she denied these 'marriage' proposals. There wasn't such a thing as marriage in Commorragh; it was more of a mutually beneficial arrangement than any binding agreement.
But it was not quite time for such things. Despite my height, I was merely a child, even by human standards, much less Drukhari. Not that their morals were something to base oneself on. I had grown my soul quite a bit during this time and had practiced drawing upon the warp with admittedly minimal effort.
It was dangerous and easily detected here in Commorragh, and I was certain that they would have my head if it became known what I was doing. Only when I was certain I was completely alone would I even attempt to use my abilities.
I had learned to divine and shoot lightning from my fingertips, though not for very long, as the warp was a dangerous mistress and made one feel godlike. The first time I used the lightning, I felt unstoppable. Only moments later, I felt a dangerous gaze land on me, and I managed to pull myself out of the warp's embrace and stop channeling.
From that point on, I limited my use of its intoxicating abilities. However, divining was something I was remarkably good at, so I used it to determine raids that were beneficial to my mother, under the stipulation that she doesn't ask me how I am acquiring such information.
While I hadn't tried getting in-depth answers, I used it to gauge how an operation would turn out. This gave our Cult a significant advantage in operations and raids over the last few years. I felt like a weak farseer, seeing through the tides in the warp, and while not perfect, I had a very high success rate thus far.
I was offhandedly looking at the commotion growing below and noticed a group of slaves being led into our colosseum, reminiscent of an ancient gladiatorial arena. I could see a human female, likely a sister of battle given the tattoos and religious iconography.
I leapt onto a nearby speed bike and flew down to the gates to get a better look. She had platinum hair, something that seemed standard among the sisters of battle; she had honey-brown eyes and a gloomy expression, consistently reciting chants to the God-Emperor.
"You're the first sister of battle I have seen," I said, looking at her. I had stopped the two Drukhari slavers who were leading her and the others into the cells below. "I'll take her. Release her bonds; the rest go to the pits," I said imperiously while looking at the woman. She was likely in her late 20s, maybe early 30s, hard to tell considering their worlds range from toxic deathlands to verdant heavens.
"What's your name?" I asked, walking around her twice. She was pretty, there was no doubt about it, but I could sense a holiness to her aura, some warp energy that was untainted by the powers of chaos, likely from firm belief in the Emperor.
"Celeste." The woman Celeste had her eyes open now, examining me as much as I was her. "I would ask the young xeno to spare me the drivel and simply kill me, as it would please the Emperor more than hearing a single wasted breath from your mouth," she exhaled.
I laughed brightly. "You know, you're quite the card. I was always a fan of you lot," I said, leading her back to the tower. "And no, I won't be killing you. That seems an awful waste of your talents." "The Emperor shall burn this place with might and fury; it shall be cleansed anew, and your bones will litter this place," she said. I chuckled the whole time.
"Celeste dear, our bones litter this place already, much like the Corpse Emperor's very own litter his golden throne." She was seething by this point. "But I am not here to fight with you philosophically. I would like to ask you some questions. Whether you answer or not is up to you, but I have some questions about the state of your so-called Imperium."
"What Terran era is it?" She looked peeved but replied, "Late 35th millennium." I smiled widely at this. The Age of Apostasy was well on its way, meaning Vandire was likely to be born soon, an excellent opportunity. "Are you interested in living? I mean, serving the Emperor with your death is one thing, but you could still serve him by my side?" I was expecting her answer already.
"I'd much rather die than deal with you, scum xeno." I nodded along. "Yes, but think of it. You can help make decisions that could save the lives of a few of your 'compatriots.'" I looked her dead in the eyes.
I didn't mind having a lovely sister of battle on my side. On one hand, it allows me to research the ways the Emperor interacts with the Sisters of Battle. On the other, I get to see a more human perspective from this galaxy. She was gritting her teeth and looking hatefully at me.
"Now, now, don't look so gloomy. There are plenty of ways this can turn out. You can be killed, or you can potentially influence a young noble 'xeno,' as you so inelegantly put it." "I mean, just think of your Emperor. Wouldn't he want you to do what's best for the Imperium?" "Leave the God-Emperor off your filthy tongue." I smiled.
"Celeste, I will do what I damn well please, and if it means torturing you until you cave, I will do so." "I would prefer not to merely because I find it time-consuming, not because I find it impossible. Now answer me or fight me, but for God's sake, don't make me waste another breath." I said, grabbing hold of my shardblade's hilt.
Her honey-like eyes were looking at me. I could see an internal struggle waging in her mind against her better judgment. She seemed to be more likely to stay to seal the deal. "Granted, I can't make your position higher than a slave here, but you will be the personal slave of a Trueborn Drukhari." "Only me and my mother would have the right to inflict wounds upon you, but you will have to keep appearances, or I'll have to make your self-flagellation look like a minor wound." I was still leading her up the spire.
"Ezdazar, why have you brought this Mon-keigh here?" I could hear one of the guards for my wing of the tower. "None of your concern. Let us pass." "No, I have strict orders not to let intruders pass." I growled and looked the taller Drukhari right in the eyes. "Move aside or be moved." The man stayed still.
I felt my rage beginning to simmer. The warp felt close, but I knew better than to draw upon its power at this moment. However, Celeste moved faster than most humans had any right to and punched the man in the face. "You dar-" his words were cut off by a solid right hook to the mouth. He looked remarkably offended and reached for his splinter rifle.
"One more inch, and you lose your head," I said as my sword was already resting on his neck. The Drukhari merely glared and continued to reach. With a solid swing, I disarmed the man, cutting through his left arm and leaving a bleeding stump in its place.
"YOU BASTARD, I'LL KILL-" ignoring the man's less-than-savory threats, I swiped my blade again, freeing my ears from the torment. I noticed that the man was likely some spy from another cult or maybe an Archon trying to annoy the future heir of the Cult of Venom.
"Next time, wait until I give the okay before swinging, but impressive nonetheless. I take it you've come to a decision then?" By this point, we had made it to my room. "I will do what I must." The grin that spread across my face would shake the hearts of lesser men.
"Most fantastic. We will have to get you in some chains soon, or there will be no end to the annoyances I have to sit through." I grumbled, looking at my dressers. Finding some chains, I walked behind the woman. "They are more symbolic than restrictive. I have no need for these chains to beat you, so fear not." She snorted. I placed a latch and chain on each wrist and ankle.
"So, how'd you find your way to our lovely city of Commorragh?" "Lovely, it says… We were traveling through the warp when a portal of some type appeared, and we flew through.. We ended up near some dark stars and then the raids began." I was nodding along.
Not unheard of for random webway portals to be accessed, more surprising was that a ship fit through but It was likely widened for some purpose. "Come I need to carve some of the house sigils on you." "I will not have your heretical marks placed on me absolutely not." "You will and you will now or i'll make a collar to leash you to me." she was raging.
"Listen and listen well I care very little for marking you. I derive nothing but entertainment but assuming you don't want to be slashed and tortured everytime i'm not in eyesight I would listen to what I'm saying." "This is the last time I will explain myself to you. If you do not see the wisdom in it then die for all I care. I'll find some young dumb sister of battle somewhere in this city that can follow orders." I was growing more and more enraged.
I realize that in my human perspective I had no right to do this to her but that side of me was long since dead. I lived in the city of Commorragh long enough now to know that. I have been far nicer than any Drukhari in my position should and considering breaking her mind would be easier than wasting my breath. I was considering the option.
She did look beautiful even by Eldari standards; most could begrudgingly compliment the way she looked. While not as beautiful as Viveth or Derreah she had a more grounded beauty. She was flustered, angry and reproachful but my words did the job.
I would enjoy slowly bending her to my will. She seemed an interesting one to crack. I was wondering if I could get her to worship me as desperately as she worshiped the dead emperor? That would be a sight singing hymns of the Prince of Commorragh.