Vex Chronicles 3: Hunt

Bloodeyes

Captured freighter, docked to Grandclose

Iniadrel's entire body hurt. The weeks of torture had left its mark. But he had abode his time and gathered his strength. Iniadrel had made the error to lie, to deliver false information. But he had quickly learned that his dark brethren weren't stupid. Especially the winged one had seen through his ruses more often than not. The leader of the raiders however was just a ruthless torturer.

Iniadrel had asked the runes not only for what his captors wanted to know. He had asked for his own fate in between sessions. He had woven it in in front of his tormentors very eyes. A risk that had paid off. Iniadrel knew what he had to do to survive.

Iniadrel's mind wandered to his vision of truth, his runes had uncovered. He had seen death. Death and freedom. He should not have allowed this to drag on for so long. Whatever the dark brethren searched for, it was not allowed to be completed in their hands. But Iniadrel had been weak. And now mon-keigh would die for his reveal.

The farseer cared little for the fate of the mon-keigh, for the humans. But they could be useful in his time of need. Iniadrel was not stupid. He knew what his runes had shown him. If the dark eldar would complete their treasure hunt, the consequences would be dire. And if the mon-keigh would aid his in escape and erased his shame, than Iniadrel had to trust in what his runes had revealed. The assault against the human station was the farseer's last chance to make his escape.

The needle in the farseer's hands weighted barely anything. But the torture device would be his key for freedom. He had seen how his torturers had extended the hooked barbs from it. And Iniadrel had already used it to cut through his bindings. He had cut deep into his own flesh to do so. But it was his price to pay. And after the weeks of torture, a self inflicted wound on his wrist was just one of many pains.

When the door opened, he already laid in wait. And he drove the needle into exposed pale flesh. With satisfaction he realized that the one that had come for him was the raid leader. The butcher that had caused the farseer the most grievous pains. And so he had no regret as he extended the barbs and rotated them around, making it nearly impossible to pull the torture needle out without shredding deep into flesh and skin. The man called out in anger and fury. But Iniadrel just kicked the feet off from under the pale brethren. And before the door snapped back into its lock, the farseer was out.

The dark eldar raid leader had not trust his own men. And he had taken Iniadrel with them on the captured human transporter. Both the farseer and the dark eldar didn't knew the extend of the human ship. And so they knew as much as Iniadrel. But he had at least seen it in the runes what he had to do.

The farseer calmed his aching pains with a mental exercise and begun to hurry through ugly corridors of the human box of a ship. The raid leader had already rung the alarm. Shouts rolled through the small crew area of the ship.

The sound of rushed steps were carried through the corridor and Iniadrel slipped into the closest room. The farseer couldn't say if he had been lucky or unlucky. He had found the crew of the ship – or at least the still living portion of it. Naked bodes were tied to the wall. Many had felt the painful touch of the eldar's fallen brethren.

It turned out that it was not to Iniadrel's luck. One of the mon-keigh believed that there was a chance for him to somehow gain favor with their captors. He called for aid.

"He's here! He's..." Iniadrel silenced the idiot by pressing his hand on his mouth. But injured as he was, it was too late. The farseer's captors had heard.

Iniadrel turned towards the door. He pressed back the pain, focused his mind and tried to find the necessary calm. But his mind was in chaos and focus refused to come to him. When the first dark eldar warrior stepped through the door and opened fire, Iniadrel was unable to channel his powers. And all he could do was dart to the side. Crystallized shards of toxin spewed out of the weapon and the human got what he deserved. But the farseer wasn't fast enough. One toxin shrapnel cut into his arm.