Vex Chronicles 3: Hunt

Guided by death

Dark eldar ship

"Acceptable work, Dayzhek, my hound-master."

Anger spiked in Armegore's chest. The solarite next to him did not even acknowledge his compliments. But Armegore was not that crazy to strike the enigmatic and deadly wych down.

"Two razordisks. Those mon-keigh cost me two razordisks!" Dayzhek angrily slammed one of his throwing knifes into the wall. "My hounds are replaceable, but those disks..."

The angry solarite turned around to stare at Armegore. "Why were the mon-keigh from Grandclose here?"

"There is only one explanation. They know what we are hunting for. They want to stop us. But we are one step ahead of them. And with the latest piece, Vraesha will put us even further ahead." Armegore managed to nearly sound friendly as he again tried to compliment. "You fought well, you carved your path of pain. And I am sorry for your lost hounds. Choose some of my own slaves for you."

"I will."

Dayzhek had finally realized Armegore's annoyance. With a nod he accepted the peace offering. Like Armegore, the hound-master had no interest in a fight. And so he turned around towards the ship's slave pens.

Armegore growled in anger when he was finally alone. He had the annoying mon-keigh leader in his sights. But he had again failed to claim his kill. Armegore balled his fist and yanked at the chains. But even the groan of pain from the slaves that dragged behind him couldn't sooth his mood. He needed something more to calm his nerves. Something much more bloody.

Armegore stomped into the bio lab of the cold fury that was haemonculus Vraesha, dragging the two mon-keigh along by the chains hooked into their naked skin. One had already given up, his eyes empty and broken. But the other one still struggled. As if he had a chance...

"More for your greedy machine, fleshmangler."

Armegore threw the docile one onto Vraesha's torture tables and peeled the chain hook out of the mistreated arm stump. Vraesha's machine was hungry. And Armegore had accepted to part with his trophies in exchange for his price. But the second hairy barbarian was here for Armegore's amusement alone. And he had chosen an intact one so that breaking him would be extra special.

"You promised me that this would be the last piece." Armegore slammed the necron cube against Vraesha's chest. "So end our hunt and give me my weapon!"

"You and your weapon..."

Vraesha pressed the cube into the center of the sewed flesh of the bait array. As soon as she was done, the moans of pain rose to a new height.

"When?"

Vraesha did not reply. Instead she slipped away and towards the treat Armegore had brought her.

"Passable." Vraesha prodded the man's mangled shoulder and threw an annoyed glance at Armegore. "His arm is a mess."

"He was already like this when we grabbed him on Grandclose."

Vraesha's many arms went to work as she ruthlessly drilled the nerve connectors through skin and flesh into the man's bones. He screamed but Vraesha barely cared. Armegore could see that for the haemonculus, pain was no longer a delighted meal. Armegore drew a grimace. In her search to advance the dark eldar race, Vraesha had left behind her own desires and her own kind.

"You and your ascension."

"You and your weapon," Vraesha fired back "There isn't just one starkiller weapon out there. The true price is the ascension of metal."

Armegore just grunted and dragged his struggling meal into the room in the rear of the laboratory. The storage had become his little play room. A way to forget the incompetence of the men around him. Armegore wrinkled his nose. It still smelled like mon-keigh... The broken one needed more punishment. She should have gotten rid of the smell a long time ago.