Archon Theá V’all, leader to the Kabal of the Blooded Rose and one of the more mysterious Eldar in Commorragh stood on the Observation Deck of his personal flagship, the Bionnearan, as it departed from the hulking spherical vessel of silver he recognised as the Am’otep.
In comparison to the dull and featureless Necron vessel, his was full of design and flare. Its armour was of the darkest black but lead into brilliant oranges and fiery reds at its many points and edges, its solar sails a rich teal and the gleaming insignia of a red bleeding rose artistically scattered about its hull.
As his fleet of similarly designed, but smaller and less refined ships started barrelling into the webway, a realm between the material universe and the warp – a chaos infested and torturous realm that some of the slave races regarded as ‘Hell’, Theá turned and headed down the gangway to take a look at his side of the trade.
Whilst an alliance between Necrons and any variety of Eldar had been unheard of since before the War In Heaven, this one was proving to be quite a profitable one. Not that these were the usual bunch of crazed or genocidal machines that he was used to, these were sad and lonely beings trying to live in the past.
Ha! Theá thought to himself, who needs to relish in the past when the future is full of such promise!
Striding down the pitch dark walkways of the Redeemer, his highly accustomed eyes could see the blind and frightened slaves imprisoned in cages built into each side of the gangway, each of them flinching whenever his armoured boot struck the cold metal floor. It would have been easy for him to slip down the corridor unnoticed, even when he was dressed in this thick ornate armour – just because their trade was lucrative, didn’t mean he trusted the Necron Overlord. Instead he preferred to show his power, the power that his people should hold over the primitive slave races that infested the galaxy, his galaxy. Whilst the other Kabals and Archons bickered and fought for scraps in the great city of Commorragh, Theá V’all would be taking the galaxy, lesser races bowing to his feet as he reclaimed the heritage of his people.
After the Necrons had slain the old ones and the C’tan, thinking themselves victors they had decided to sleep until their time came again, leaving the Eldar to regrow in strength and power. Destroying their Tomb Worlds and any that dared to stay awake, the Eldar had took their revenge for the destruction of their gods and had eventually sat upon their rightful place, as rulers and protectors of the galaxy.
However their greed and lust for more out of life became insatiable, and as each Eldar had a strong physic presence, their emotions created something of pure evil – the Chaos god Slaanesh. Born into the material realm and creating The Eye Of Terror – a giant portal into the warp, Slaanesh consumed the souls of all those Eldar who had not fled or saved their souls from the insatiable hunger; leaving their race as dying species.
Being in neither the warp nor the material universe but instead existing in the webway, those who called Commorragh their home weren’t consumed by She Who Thirsts, but instead paid a difference price.
As a race Eldar were practically immortal; with god like life spans and an understanding of the material universe better than any others, they were easily identifiable by their tall slender bodies and their uncanny speed and agility.
However to those like Theá, the price they paid was a cruel one, one where they were no longer naturally immortal but instead had to take the life essence from other creatures in order to extend it. Like vampires the Eldar’s dark kin had to inflict pain to rejuvenate themselves.
Theá took a deep breath relishing both the power he had over these simple creatures and feeling his body fully refreshed through their misery. Stepping through a threshold and onto a balcony for the larger area of his ship where he would make speeches, host the blood filled Wyche tournaments and see his warriors prepare for war, it was currently in the mundane use of sorting the new slaves.
Five hundred orks Varek Záakesh had given him, five hundred new slaves for breaking and putting in display fights with his warriors and for what, the promise that he would help them find new bodies of flesh – pah! All he needed to do was egg them on with new methods and bits of information from his masters of flesh, the Haemonculi.
Whilst Varek had indeed made a useful agreement with Theá, and one that would most likely prove to be fruitful for the Necron, it was not an agreement he wanted to end quickly. In fact, if he could get away with coaxing the idiot forever, he probably would. How they had ever ruled the entire galaxy, Theá couldn’t imagine.
Being of a higher intelligence than most other slave races, Theá naturally had his Haemonculi covens look into the Necron Lord’s proposal. Whilst few in number and ingenuity, their weapons and nigh indestructible bodies would prove to be an annoyance if they turned against him – plus Theá was almost intrigued himself.
Getting the Necrons out of their metallic forms and back into mortal forms had been his side of the bargain, well most of it. The Eldar’s skill over the millennia in manipulating souls and flesh due to their condition, was paralleled by none. Theá had heard many stories of his kin transferring their souls into younger bodies to reduce the effects of their aging but this had come after an age of experimentation, and it wasn’t like the Lord was going to hand his warriors over for testing.
But imagine, Theá thought to himself, to have a weapon that could take the indestructible Necrons and make them mortal. That would be one of his finest moments.