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Post by theredauthar on Nov 21, 2022 2:18:48 GMT -5
The distraction of the Kalibite removing her helm and revealing her face only lasts a moment before Maebh’s eyes, at least the one not hidden by her hair lights up. While she tries to remain calm on the outside, Maebh is practically giddy to talk about her artwork with someone who may be interested. It’s almost as if her fear is replaced by excitement, or as excited as one who walked the Aeldari Paths will allow themselves at this juncture. It would not be hard for one to read her excitement but if one was truly good at reading their fellow Aeldari, they could tell she's been a bit emotionally unstable since leaving her craftworld. Not entirely in a negative way, but one that is unsure how to further control their emotions.
Maebh holds up the small sculpture for the Kalabite to see. It’s a small pillar that appears to be crumbling but being supported by a serpent.
“It’s a simple piece,” she explains, “More of a concept of a much larger piece I would like to make. It represents the intertwined nature of Isha and Ynnead, life and death. Perhaps while the serpent rubs away the edges of the pillar, it knows that if it truly collapses, it will be crushed beneath. So it supports where it can so that the cycle may continue.”
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Post by Fate's End on Nov 22, 2022 23:41:56 GMT -5
However, there was something a bit more pressing. A unprompted Harlequin, while not always bad, was something that was unwise to ignore. Plus they perhaps might know something about the planet she hasn't discovered yet. Plus one of her charges forgot something. Picking up Maebh's helmet, she'd send a message to her retinue's commander before catching up to the Harlequin. "Excuse me, Harlequin," she called, "You called this a 'vacation spot'. Is this a place you frequent?" Ralpheal paused mid-stride, his tune not so much ending as being put on a brief pause. He glanced over his shoulder and laughed, "No honored Farseer. I have never set foot upon this world. A poor attempt at humor, any in my Masque will tell you I have unfortunate timing. I was merely remarking as to the diverse gathering of Aeldari here, that is all." He glanced at her, discerning her appearance for the first time and realizing with only a tinge of belated understanding that she served the Ynnari. His expression remained polite, but his lips tightened slightly as he considered this detail. His own view of the group was---mixed at best. "May I inquire as to your own endeavors here? Not planning on blowing up the planet, are you?"
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Post by LaxKnight on Dec 1, 2022 11:47:21 GMT -5
Maebh holds up the small sculpture for the Kalabite to see. It’s a small pillar that appears to be crumbling but being supported by a serpent. “It’s a simple piece,” she explains, “More of a concept of a much larger piece I would like to make. It represents the intertwined nature of Isha and Ynnead, life and death. Perhaps while the serpent rubs away the edges of the pillar, it knows that if it truly collapses, it will be crushed beneath. So it supports where it can so that the cycle may continue.” If the Dark Eldar was perturbed by the sudden shift from fear to giddy it wasn't obvious besides perhaps a bit of surprise. She looked at it as Maehb explained the piece and when she finished she'd contemplate for a few moments before saying, "So the pillar is Isha and the serpent is Ynnead. Interesting. What is it made out of?" ---- Ralpheal paused mid-stride, his tune not so much ending as being put on a brief pause. He glanced over his shoulder and laughed, "No honored Farseer. I have never set foot upon this world. A poor attempt at humor, any in my Masque will tell you I have unfortunate timing. I was merely remarking as to the diverse gathering of Aeldari here, that is all." He glanced at her, discerning her appearance for the first time and realizing with only a tinge of belated understanding that she served the Ynnari. His expression remained polite, but his lips tightened slightly as he considered this detail. His own view of the group was---mixed at best. "May I inquire as to your own endeavors here? Not planning on blowing up the planet, are you?" Wyvara was at a loss at the response. She was perhaps expecting that the Harlequin, masters of the Webway, might have some insight to this largely forgotten world. If anyone came before she did it was likely them after all. Alas, that appeared to not be the case, those his presence explains the occasional mocking laughter in her visions. Then, as if noticing her first time, he began to truly look at her. She could see his opinion forming which was then made obvious by his question. The quip was understandable; it was a reservation she herself had. It was a tragic thing, what happened to Biel-Tan, but she tells herself it was necessary. Better the souls go to Ynnead than devoured by the Great Enemy. "The song of this world is one I don't want to see silenced. The tunes played here will effect the larger melody of the galaxy, and there are chords in this song that sing of our ancient past," she said, "I wish to stop the Ruinous Powers that threaten to corrupt or silence it. What of you, Death Jester? What brought you to this world?"
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Post by theredauthar on Dec 2, 2022 0:45:26 GMT -5
If the Dark Eldar was perturbed by the sudden shift from fear to giddy it wasn't obvious besides perhaps a bit of surprise. She looked at it as Maehb explained the piece and when she finished she'd contemplate for a few moments before saying, "So the pillar is Isha and the serpent is Ynnead. Interesting. What is it made out of?" Maebh smiles as she slowly turns the piece in her hands, “It’s a small portion of Wraithbone that I had on me. I’ve been slowly perfecting the appearance in my spare time.” She pauses and looks deeply at it for a moment, “If I had more I would like to make a much larger piece. Unfortunately I have neither the time nor the Wraithbone for anything grander than small pieces like this.” There’s a brief flicker of embarrassment across her face, “My apologies. Perhaps I am getting too enthusiastic about my art. If I bore you or am coming off as a nuisance, please do not hesitate to tell me. I have been warned that sometimes I am too passionate about my artwork.”
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Post by Fate's End on Dec 4, 2022 23:34:01 GMT -5
Wyvara was at a loss at the response. She was perhaps expecting that the Harlequin, masters of the Webway, might have some insight to this largely forgotten world. If anyone came before she did it was likely them after all. Alas, that appeared to not be the case, those his presence explains the occasional mocking laughter in her visions. Then, as if noticing her first time, he began to truly look at her. She could see his opinion forming which was then made obvious by his question. The quip was understandable; it was a reservation she herself had. It was a tragic thing, what happened to Biel-Tan, but she tells herself it was necessary. Better the souls go to Ynnead than devoured by the Great Enemy. "The song of this world is one I don't want to see silenced. The tunes played here will effect the larger melody of the galaxy, and there are chords in this song that sing of our ancient past," she said, "I wish to stop the Ruinous Powers that threaten to corrupt or silence it. What of you, Death Jester? What brought you to this world?" In answer to her question, Ralpheal awkwardly swung his bag around and jammed a slender hand into it with exactly zero ounces of grace. He rummaged for a few precious seconds, tongue sticking out between his teeth in concentration until he muttered something that sounded like "ah-hah," and withdrew . . . an envelope. To an Aeldari's eyes it was damnably plain, almost offensively so. A few stains and crumbs lay upon its surface, and the only clue as to its addressee was an acronym in low gothic script. "S.W.A.L.K." He waved it with a measure of triumph visible on his face, "I am all for the defeat of the Ruinous Powers, honored Farseer. And truly I think my actions here on this planet will help in some small ways. But today, and for the foreseeable future, I am playing what the humans call a Post Man. I have a missive to deliver."
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Post by LaxKnight on Dec 6, 2022 18:00:59 GMT -5
Maebh smiles as she slowly turns the piece in her hands, “It’s a small portion of Wraithbone that I had on me. I’ve been slowly perfecting the appearance in my spare time.” She pauses and looks deeply at it for a moment, “If I had more I would like to make a much larger piece. Unfortunately I have neither the time nor the Wraithbone for anything grander than small pieces like this.” There’s a brief flicker of embarrassment across her face, “My apologies. Perhaps I am getting too enthusiastic about my art. If I bore you or am coming off as a nuisance, please do not hesitate to tell me. I have been warned that sometimes I am too passionate about my artwork.” “How considerate. Don’t worry, you’ll know,” the Drukhari said, clearly amused, “Wraithbone, huh? I think the boss might know a few things about that stuff. However, have you ever considered using actual bone?” She paused for a moment as a thought struck her. “How big are you planning to make it anyway?” —- In answer to her question, Ralpheal awkwardly swung his bag around and jammed a slender hand into it with exactly zero ounces of grace. He rummaged for a few precious seconds, tongue sticking out between his teeth in concentration until he muttered something that sounded like "ah-hah," and withdrew . . . an envelope. To an Aeldari's eyes it was damnably plain, almost offensively so. A few stains and crumbs lay upon its surface, and the only clue as to its addressee was an acronym in low gothic script. "S.W.A.L.K." He waved it with a measure of triumph visible on his face, "I am all for the defeat of the Ruinous Powers, honored Farseer. And truly I think my actions here on this planet will help in some small ways. But today, and for the foreseeable future, I am playing what the humans call a Post Man. I have a missive to deliver." Wyvara would watch the Death Jester dig through their bag with mild curiosity before producing a… envelope. It seemed at some point someone who’s handled it didn’t have much reverence for it, but through the stains and smudges she could spot in the addressee section “S.W.A.L.K”. It wasn’t unheard of for Harlequins to be utilized as messengers, delivering between the Craftworlds and the darker kin when necessary along with the rare occasion of something spoken from their god, but it was surprising to see a message handled so… haphazardly. She couldn’t help but be curious to know who’d acquire the services of a Death Jester to deliver a message to here of all places. “Since this is your first time here perhaps I can point you in the right direction?” she asked.
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Post by Fate's End on Dec 7, 2022 1:10:19 GMT -5
Wyvara would watch the Death Jester dig through their bag with mild curiosity before producing a… envelope. It seemed at some point someone who’s handled it didn’t have much reverence for it, but through the stains and smudges she could spot in the addressee section “S.W.A.L.K”. It wasn’t unheard of for Harlequins to be utilized as messengers, delivering between the Craftworlds and the darker kin when necessary along with the rare occasion of something spoken from their god, but it was surprising to see a message handled so… haphazardly. She couldn’t help but be curious to know who’d acquire the services of a Death Jester to deliver a message to here of all places. “Since this is your first time here perhaps I can point you in the right direction?” she asked. Ralpheal leaned on one foot, kicking his right out behind him as if imitating a strange wading bird of some sort. What was the risk, what was the reward? He stood like that in thought, knee bent backwards, boot hovering in the air. Finally he decided upon a course, "I would be honored if you could point me towards the human city known as Harvest? I was going to just go through cookies until I found it. But if you know where it is, that would save me a stomach ache." He gave her his best, most winning smile, pearly teeth flashing in the gloom.
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Post by theredauthar on Dec 8, 2022 0:04:23 GMT -5
“I don’t know about the full size yet,” Maebh admits, “My mentor always taught me that the piece I’m not creating is merely guiding it to discover its true form. All I can say for sure is this little piece isn’t the right size. I know it’s meant to be bigger. Regardless if it’s made of wraithbone or…”
Maebh finally acknowledges the Drukhari’s idea. Her eyes widen, “Bone? Actual Bone?”
She looks at the Kalabite’s face to see if she’s joking, “...I’ve never used bone as material before. I guess it’s possible…”
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Post by LaxKnight on Dec 11, 2022 19:38:34 GMT -5
Ralpheal leaned on one foot, kicking his right out behind him as if imitating a strange wading bird of some sort. What was the risk, what was the reward? He stood like that in thought, knee bent backwards, boot hovering in the air. Finally he decided upon a course, "I would be honored if you could point me towards the human city known as Harvest? I was going to just go through cookies until I found it. But if you know where it is, that would save me a stomach ache." He gave her his best, most winning smile, pearly teeth flashing in the gloom. Wyvara watched the display with... curiosity wasn't the right word. Confusion? Whatever it was, she was stuck until he finished. After his… meditation he consented to her help. She’d shift Maebh’s helmet to sit in the crook of her spear arm to give herself a free hand. "Once you get out of the cave turn left. Once you see a river follow it upstream. Once it leads you out of the forest go north. You’ll go through lots of fields but eventually come across a large city. That’s Harvest. If you get lost, follow the Valkyries. Harvest has the only spaceport on the continent. If you see Tau or lots of factories you’re in the wrong place," she said, then added, "The mon’keigh aren’t very aware of our presence. It may be best, at the moment, that it remains that way." ---- “I don’t know about the full size yet,” Maebh admits, “My mentor always taught me that the piece I’m not creating is merely guiding it to discover its true form. All I can say for sure is this little piece isn’t the right size. I know it’s meant to be bigger. Regardless if it’s made of wraithbone or…” Maebh finally acknowledges the Drukhari’s idea. Her eyes widen, “Bone? Actual Bone?” She looks at the Kalabite’s face to see if she’s joking, “...I’ve never used bone as material before. I guess it’s possible…” Maebh could see the normally bemused and predatory smile of the leading Kabalite grow wider the moment the Craftworlder realized what she said. "Yes, bone. As in the stuff inside you and me," she said, "Using bone would make the serpent closer to Ynnead, the god of death. While rigid, it is excellent for engraving. I used to have a very nice skull I claimed from one of those mon-keigh with the black caps. Put nice red gems in the eyes and one of their skull pins on the forehead. Boss said I had to leave it behind though because it'd "scare people" and "make them mad"." She scoffed. "It's not as if our very presence does that already. Am I right, Maebh?" she smiled coyly, as if already knowing the answer.
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Post by theredauthar on Dec 12, 2022 1:10:43 GMT -5
Realization that this position with these Druhkari is probably not the safest place to be, begins to sink in. Maebh is starting to worry that she let her passion for art get her trapped by these warriors. She is tempted to make an excuse to flee back to the safety of the farseer, but she didn't think to leave herself an escape route nor can she think of any legitimate reason to excuse herself. Worse, she's sure this Kalibite knows it and is enjoying it. She tries to keep a brave face, but her courage is starting to slowly deplete. Still, she’s doing her best not to let it show, which isn’t much. “That is fair,” she says, attempting to hide the unease in her voice, “Is it not your purpose to use fear and intimidation to protect Farseer Wyvara? I could see how your skull could be used to great effect to scare away mon’keigh. Of course, depending on the viewer, it could also inspire retaliation too.”
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Post by Fate's End on Dec 13, 2022 22:15:58 GMT -5
Wyvara watched the display with... curiosity wasn't the right word. Confusion? Whatever it was, she was stuck until he finished. After his… meditation he consented to her help. She’d shift Maebh’s helmet to sit in the crook of her spear arm to give herself a free hand. "Once you get out of the cave turn left. Once you see a river follow it upstream. Once it leads you out of the forest go north. You’ll go through lots of fields but eventually come across a large city. That’s Harvest. If you get lost, follow the Valkyries. Harvest has the only spaceport on the continent. If you see Tau or lots of factories you’re in the wrong place," she said, then added, "The mon’keigh aren’t very aware of our presence. It may be best, at the moment, that it remains that way." Ralpheal nodded politely, ensuring the strap on his pack was back in place and the letter safely tucked away again. "I shall do my very best to only be seen by the appropriate humans. My thanks to you, honored Farseer, for your aid in guiding my way." And with that, he turned and strode once more towards the exit, a tune once more upon his lips.
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Post by LaxKnight on Dec 14, 2022 19:38:08 GMT -5
Wyvara would give the Harlequin a polite nod before watching him go for a bit as she thought about the future; both the things she's seen and the plans made around them. She couldn't help but feel this particular note was a catalyst for a particular melody, but which one she could not say. Perhaps something to search for later. She imagined all she might hear would be laughs though. After a bit she shifted Maebh's helmet to her free hand and went to go return it to its owner.
----
Maebh could see the Drukhari relish a bit in the fear with a smile before giving a thoughtful look. "I wouldn't say that exactly, though I won't say they aren't tools I use. It is hard to diversify from something you've used for survival for so long," she said, "I suppose that is one of the roles of a bodyguard; make enough of an impression where would-be assassins are too scared to act. However, you must always be mindful of impressions, especially with diplomacy like the boss expects us to be in. Sadly, mon'keigh skulls aren't a good idea to bring if you ever plan on meeting with them."
She chuckled a bit before the Harlequin passed them by. Once he left she asked Maebh, "Are you going to hang around with us, or strike out on your own here?"
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Post by theredauthar on Dec 15, 2022 22:21:58 GMT -5
Maebh is unsure. She could take advantage of the Druhkari’s offer, without appearing like she was trying to escape. However, that felt a bit like giving up. Just because they were scary… …absolutely terrifying if she’s truthful to herself… …they were technically still her compatriots. Drukhari not withstanding.
Of course there is one problem that she has yet to address. Perhaps now is as good a time as any. “Well…I am unsure,” Maebh says, “To be quite honest I was not assigned nor was I invited on the mission here.”
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Post by LaxKnight on Dec 16, 2022 20:32:26 GMT -5
The Druhkari would nod. Before she could say anything, however, Wyvara's voice called behind Maebh, "Are you playing nice, Malrata?"
The amused and predatory air she had fell to something more serious, though still a little playful. "Oh, just having a chat about the art piece she's working on. A lot of potential it does," she said.
"Art piece?" Wyvara asked quizzically.
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Zink
New Member
Posts: 24
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Post by Zink on Dec 21, 2022 0:08:00 GMT -5
By your will, lady seer." And with a light bow, the Ranger returns to her own matters. She produces a small device from her cloak – an oval, taper-ended thing of half-arm’s length, three spindly feet telescoping from its sides as she sets it to the ground in sight of the webway gate. Fingers dance across inlaid gemstones, and though the great gate’s aperture does not open, the crystals set into its wraithbone arcs pulse softly in concordance with the device’s own. A psychotelemetic receiver – a long-ranging communications and webway far-sighting device, oft carried by the adherents to the Outcast Path. Placing a hand upon the receiver’s top, the Ranger sits in silent repose, eyes closed in a fugue state between concentration and relaxation. Whatever words pass between her and the device – and, presumably, the other end of the communique – are seemingly for them alone to know. To the uninitiated observer, the 'exchange' Elthariel underwent ruminating upon that crystal was but a few mere minutes of idle contemplation - but within the carefully molded psychic conduits of the Wraithbone lattice, a conversation hours - if not days in the making occurred. Information was parsed, assessments were made; Maps, scouting paths, points of interest - even down to the very layout and occupation of the webway gate in eidetic detail were laid bare, and thrust into the webway gate's depths with not an inlking of where their destination was, merely that it was to be sent, and to be received.
The response itself? Forthcoming.
The humble edifice stirred to life once more - not in any grand gesture, but more a silent reawakening as power flowed through systems like water through artisanal channels. This webway gate alone had likely seen more use now, in this year, than it had in centuries - if not millennia of dilapidation. It was auspicious that it had brought so many disparate Aeldari, Drukhari, even Ynnari to the same roost, in the turning years of the millennium that heralded unprecedented change across the galaxy. For such a religiously entrapped, spiritual people - any Eldar could easily call this Fate - but Fate has always been a fickle mistress, and such a gathering could just as easily herald far darker portents, especially when such a powder-keg of personalities converged on one, singular location.
And Oh, Here Comes A Spark.
Rather than the violent re-entry of Imperial (and Ork, for that matter) Teleporters, exiting the webway was a smooth, near seamless transition. The air only let out the faint hiss of displacement as Elthanil materialized from the nothingness that occupied the center of that arch, a comparatively mute affair when measured against any other race's technology. One foot, then another, the Warlock strode from the webway gate as confidently as he entered one of its many egresses - assured of the Pathfinder's assessment that their course risked neither breach nor misdirection. His helm's gaze swept the serene clearing almost lazily, knowing full well that danger did not exist here - not yet at least - passing over the distant sight of the Farseer and her Entourage, (If they could even be called such) before falling to rest on his Host's Guide.
"Pathfinder." His address was curt, almost apathetic in its execution as he stepped down and away from that ancient gate, which still pulsed with life. There almost seemed to be an unspoken conversation between the two, with how the Warlock bore down his silent gaze upon her, before settling whatever matter it was with a slight incline of the head. Between Eldar, it could easily have been read as a dismissal, or a gesture of contempt, but there were key details missing even to onlookers who could understand. Something was off with their interactions, that was certain.
"The Host fast approaches. Ready your charted course, and make haste. The Craftworld demands much of us in this service."
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