The text, in case you can't read it in the images:
The young warrior stepped up to the portal, and the doors swung open. A wave of heat washed across all those gathered to witness and honour this moment. Little could be seen of what lay within, only a dull red glow, but silhouetted by the glow, a great blade and a clawed fist could just about be made out.
The warrior showed no signs of hesitation as he stepped across the threshold, and none could feel any fear or trepidation within his aura. There was only pride at his being chosen, curiosity; and a desire, or perhaps a lust for the destruction that would be wrought.
The doors closed as the warrior continued to proceed into the chamber. While to those outside it seemed as if the chamber was only a few metres deep, before the doors finally closed it appeared as if the warrior had walked a far greater distance. There was no sounds as the doors sealed, but it was noticeable by the sudden reduction in temperature in the gallery.
Without the need for any more signal, all those gathered rested onto their knees, and the communion began. Every person there was fully attired for battle, with only their helms removed, and some had not even left those off. They could sense the anger and hatred of each other, that a world of their own had been defiled so, reduced to a dusty plain what had once been a lush and verdant planet. There was also hunger and desire to bring retribution to those that had caused such destruction. It bordered on anger, but each fought to restrain themselves from such feelings for if they could not, there was every chance that they would be lost to it for ever more and their existence as a part of their craftworld would cease after this day.
The Seers and Warlocks, those closest to the chambers, channelled and directed these feelings and their psychic resonance within the matrix of the craftworld. Shaping thought and feeling as if it were clay, directing it as if it were flowing water. All was channelled into the chamber to which the young warrior had entered, to manifest a being who would be an embodiment of the Eldar’s call to war, to awaken a shard of the god Khaela Mensha Khaine.
Time passed. It may have been minutes, hours, or days. Lost in the communion, none were truly aware of exactly how much time had passed. However long it was, none were truly prepared for the psychic backlash that pulsed from the chamber as a god was awakened. All felt the final moments of the young warriors existence as the battle lust of an entire species washed through his body, tearing his mind and body apart as the very fabric of the craftworld took form around and in him. It ended thankfully as the young warrior looked down to see clawed fist as it started to reach into his chest.
Every member of the warhost was knocked to the floor by the backlash, and were only just managing to pick themselves up as the portal opened. The wave of heat that spilled from the chamber was a 1000 times as intense, and with it came a heightened lust for battle, as if the heat were anger made manifest. The glow within the chamber was far brighter, but no longer diffuse, the blade and clawed fist were no longer suspended in mid air within the chamber, but had become part of a giant figure who was now the source of the glow. Its eyes opened and they shone out. It took its first stride from the chamber and where its hoofed foot touched the wraithbone of the craftworld it blackened and smoked as it was burned by the heat.
The Avatar of Khaela Mensha Khaine had awakened, the Eldar would go to war...
Mon Keigh ! Worshippers of a corpse god ! Behold, this world at the footfalls of Keela Mensha Khaine ! Your Doom approaches !ReplyDelete