|Submitted By: Date: July 14, 2004, 10:16:14 AM Views: 1059
|Summary: Fiction: The Dead Craftworld Scribed by: Brutal Moon
Commander Derun of the Ultramarines, observed the huge Craftworld. Thinking how much this research expedition would help the Empire, he puffed out his chest inside his terminator armour suit. It appeared to be a random tangle of passageways, huge domes and twisted corridors separated by gaps of open space... It was truly a beautiful thing, with transparent windows in places, and that natural curve that was inherent to most Eldar objects.
"OK lets dock at this thing!! Even dead, it could still be dangerous. You've read the other reports. So stay frosty!" Derun shouted, watching his marines don their power armour, and the few terminators already in their suits ready for action.
The ship docked perfectly, and in exact formation, Derun's troops rushed out. Derun himself, in full terminator armour stepped out to lead his men. Walking down the biggest passageway, they saw no sign of any recent life, but everywhere there were signs of destruction, huge piles of broken Wraithbone littered the floor, though there was no sign of damage to the passage...
Looking backward, Derun saw the imperial inquisitor reach out and touch a wall. "It's still alive..." he whispered, "Nothing lives in it, but it's still alive..."
Tech marines ran around, taking notes with their various devices, recording everything on data screens. Not a drop of information in this Craftworld could go unrecorded. This was one of the most important missions of this Millennia.
They rounded a corner, and gazed at a huge hall that opened out before them, patterns dancing up the walls, their meaning hidden forever... Piles of Debris twice the height of a man lay randomly on the ground, hundreds of them, obscuring sight to any looking straight head.
Wandering confidently through the piles of rubble, Derun made his way towards a huge pile of crumbled Wraithbone in the center of the room, hoping to climb it, to get a better view. Yet, as he walked past another pile of debris, he saw one of the vile aliens sitting peaceably on the ground, cross legged, starring at them.
"Who are you!?" Derun shouted, sending off a warning signal to his troops, who came running over.
Still smiling, the Alien replied; "I am warlock Terileliyllee. I'm an ambassador here from the Zakhaine Shelwe Craftworld. I'm sorry, but you will have to leave now. Our hosts do not want your company."
"Hosts? Ambassador? You talk like their were many people living here. What is your trick? And no, we will not leave. Prepare to be taken into custody of the emperor." Derun waved his men forward.
You had your chance. Now pay the price." The alien drew herself up to her full hight, almost that of Darun himself. "Die now, foolish Mon-Keigh. Die knowing the wrath of the Eldar, know that we are mightier than you, even in death."
Before any of Derun's men had even neared the alien, the piles of Debris exploded, revealing the hulking forms of Wraithguard that Eldar sometimes took after their death. he turned to the inquisitor for advice, only to watch in horror as his arm, closely followed by his head were sucked into the warp, leaving the rest of his body perfectly whole, but the wounds open and clean, spraying blood everywhere. Calling the terminators over to him, he ordered them to form a circle around the huge mountain of rubble in the center of the room, so they wouldn't be caught from behind. Seeing the slaughter that was already happening, Derun pointed his bolt pistol at the treacherous alien. Seeing how she was barely armoured, he thought she would die easily. Yet, even as the bullet nearly hit her face, it vanished in a flash of light as some runes on her Armour began to glow. With his eyes fixed on the alien, he never even saw his death coming.
Out of the pile of rubble behind Derun, a huge Wraith-figure lifted itself up, shaking debris from its body. A Starcannon on its shoulder began shooting wildly, melting the ring of terminators. As Derun stood, firing rounds at the Eldar alien, a huge hand reached down, and closed around him, tightening so that the highest class armour the imperium had to offer bent and twisted, tearing in places and allowing Derun's lifeblood to seep out, onto the ground. Eyes glazing over as he exhaled under the pressure of the hand, he saw the form of the Alien woman clearly, standing there watching him, the last of his forces dieing in the background. In his head, he heard her voice ringing in his ears, repeating what she had said before his army was massacred; "Die now, foolish Mon-Keigh. Die knowing the wrath of the Eldar, know that we are mightier than you, even in death." and then something else, echoing in his mind, "for your time is ending, Mon-Keigh, and the Eldar's, is coming again..."
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