Hi I have written op a little fluff for my army, and I woul like to get some comments. I hope to post it in the craftworld section in a month or two, but I have not panted all of the army yeat.
Warlock aspirant Iyadra Cormer sat in his room, concentrated upon the task of learning the very simple task of moving a coin with his mind. He had spent the last five days trying to master this simplest of tricks but every time he felt he was close to succeeding, he discovered that he was far from this completion. It was hard not to get angry and try to force the coin to move, but his teacher had said to relax and feel the coin, and then gently move it through the air. It was not two weeks since he had seen the Idainn, it was this damn craftworld, no body regarded the path of the farseer with the respect it deserved. Everybody was obsessed by the arts of the body, and they all wanted to travel the path of the warrior, joining one of the many temples of the aspect warriors. That was why there was a distinct lack of teachers of the way of the psykers, they had all travels of world, to where they were better priced for their powers, and to better learn more. Allain felt the anger growing in him. Why did all those arms possessed freaks have to chase all their great teachers away. Suddenly he heard a voice, Great Farseer Iyadra Cormer, you dont have to let these primitives steal your chance to become the greatest hero of all time. Join my ranks and I will give you unimaginable power power to destroy the barbarian, who have held you back your whole life. Iyadra was seduced by the sweet voice in his ears Oh great spirit give me your power, so that I can have my revenge and bring honour to your name. Suddenly Iyadra felt at great power pass through him, and the coin who he had struggled with fore days, sprang into the air as a projectile from a shurikn cataplt, making a great hole in the wall where it hit. Then as if by magic a great staff appeared in front of Iyadra take this to the infinity circle, when you are there you will know what to do.
Foaseta Chaizar ducked the blade missing her by a only a few inches, and then in a spinning move she turned around, and knocked her opponent to the flour. Once again she was victorious, she was going to be one of the greatest Banshees ever, bringing pride to his family and her craftworld. When she left her temple after a long day of practicing the material arts, she saw one of her childhood friends Iyadra Cormer. They had played together as children, but they had always knew they had to follow different paths I life. She smiled and said hello, but the only reactions she got back was a edgy Eadar before he stormed further down the corridor towards the infinity circle.
Cromer stormed down the long corridor, not sensing the many people around him. How could that woman, that primitive even think that he the great seer Iyadra Cormer would speak to such a caveman. Suddenly Cromer found himself in the infinity circle. He had been so engulfed in his rage, that he had not seen or sensed where he was going. He looked around, scanning to surface of the great wraithbone surface. He knew what he had to do. He slowly lifted the staff granted to him by the gods, and plased its head on one of the many soulstones. Then he felt a great power flow through him greater even than that of love and hatred, greater than anything he had ever felt. Pink flames engulfed Cormer and the staff, and through the soul stone they spread to the infinity circle. As a result of the great power realised into it, the whole core of the wraithbone structure of the craftworld started to shake, after only a few minutes of this great pressure to the structure, large chunks started to rain from the sky all over the craftworld, brining a message of death to all who lived on it. In the middle of it all Cromer stood laughing.
Everything was silent out there nothing made a noise. Only the silent hum of the sub warp engines broke the silence of this berial party. Many had seen their families' die in the horrors of yesterday; they had all seem their craftworld their homes perish into the never-ending torture of the warp the world of chaos. Now the few survivors stood on the viewing deck, and saw in disbelief at the empty space where there once had been life. Children where crying, women stood with tear soaked eyes trying to calm them down, while the men tried to hide that they to, wanted to cry for the loss of their beloved home world. How could an Eldar do such a thing, how could he like a pitiful Mon-Keigh, fall to the great temptation of the evil powers, who had done this one time before when they destroyed the homeworlds of old.
Foaseta Chaizar Wasnt weeping like the others. She stood with a determined look on her face, and thought of how she could have revenge over the powers that played a part in this greatest of betrayals. She was the last Banshee of her temple, all the aspects and all the other exarches had all perished in yesterdays cataclysm. After a shot conversation with the other exarches, who had formed the counsel of war on their old home, she stood atop a balcony and spoke to the survivors. We all mourn the loss of our families and the loss of our home. We all damn the foul power, who has done this to os. That is why I have taken opon me, the task of leading you in a quest for revenge We will hunt, as long as there is anything left to hunt. We will fight, till there is nothing left to fight. We will kill, till there is not a drop of blood in our weans. After this speech, the mighty Bahzhakhaim Faolchú was formed. Hundreds of aspects readied for battle, thousands of civilians picked op their shuriken catapults for the first time I many years, and the Bone singers went hard to work on creating a new fleet of war ships. And within a year, this great army went off to on their hunt for retribution.
