When the Swordwind Blows
Theceildeorn looked out from his balcony. In the distance, only the stars could be seen, faint and cold from the windows of the Craftworld. A single tear crept down his face, and he turned away, the view from his chamber both serene and disturbing. Clutching his waystone, he moved to his bed, and lay down with a sigh. 30 short years since his kin had last gone to war - 30 years since he witnessed his family slain by an unholy force. 'SheAnweak'. For the first time in years, his brother's name passed his lips. A single chime rang from the door.
"Who wishes to see me?"
"Ethcorai. You have not been to the shrine in weeks, my friend. Is there something the matter?"
"Nothing, Ethcorai, nothing..."
The door slid open, and Ethcorai, dressed in amber robes, a faint rune painted on his face, strode in.
"There is obviously something wrong. You have not been so, so shut off since... oh."
"Are you satisfied now? You've found out what the matter was. I wish to be alone. I shall return to my duties within the week."
"I do apologise. I was not thinking." He turned to leave, "I am sorry. We all felt your loss. SheAnweak was a good man. He did not deserve this."
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It was just approaching dusk when it happened - sensing the strife, the ambience of the Craftworld changed, and each passage and street was immersed in a faint ruddy glow. The air itself seemed to shift, and each Eldar felt a wave of malice sweep across them. Theceildeorn leapt up from his bed and hurried to the window. In the distance, where before, there was nothing but stars, now there was an iridescent cloud, shimmering in some unseen light. From its centre seemed to pulse a force, not seen, but felt. Then, the cloud was gone, dissipated into the void. Pulling on a tunic, Theceildeorn ran to the door, and began to sprint towards the seer-dome.
Within minutes, the dome was full of Eldar, all conferring and theorising its meanings, it's intent, and all waiting for a single person.
"Lord-Seer, Lord-Seer! I wish to speak with you. It is of..."
"I understand you concern, child. However, if you will allow me to speak first, I shall explain what I know. Now, excuse me."; He stepped up to the podium, and the hall fell silent with anticipation. "I have returned from council with the Elders. They and the Matrix agree - this was no natural force, and we must find its cause and its purpose. The council are divining possible outcomes as I speak, but we must be prepared for war." A lone figure, attired in the style of the Warlock stepped up to speak with the Wizened Seer. For minutes the pair spoke, inaudible, even in the deathly silence.
"My friends. It is certain. A force moves against us, and they wish to defeat us. We have witnessed a conjured storm, in order to conceal thier intent from us. They are Mon-Keigh, the ones known as traitor by their own kin. We are at war, my Brethren, and Khaine shall awaken once again!"
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Part 2 coming soon.