Months ago.
Kelarith overheard the conversation and nodded. "I am not the fastest but how about I...sneak in my own fashion?" he pointed towards a manhole in the street. "I could use the tunnel system underneath the city to move faster than I normally would be able to. Of course...after all is done I still owe my Dark Lord some guards' heads."
He had run as fast as he had been able to. Too fast for his wounded leg.
During the battle he had already felt that despite the Crone's attention from the local Temple his wound was far from healed. As he had taken his mad dash through the sewer-systems his leg had finally given out. The pain had almost been too much, his leg snapping like a dried twig underneath him. Making him collapse face-forward into the sewage of Karond Kar...
He had panicked when he heard nothing but silence in his head, Khaine had abandoned him for the first time in his life and he could not blame his god. Turning over he just laid there, excrements and the occasional dead body drifting by him, sometimes bumping into him. His only wish was dying so his soul could be claimed but even then he feared that it would not be Khaine who claimed him. The mighty Executioner, on his back in a sewer pipe. Glory pf Khaine indeed.
"I had hoped since we had were starting afresh that we could maintain a vestige of subtlety about our actions, but obvious Kelarith has returned to haunt us again, may his Khainite soul forever burn."
As the days faded in and out he went through all his memories and asked himself how it got to this. Hatred began to take over from his melancholic state and he swore that whoever got him here would pay a hundredfold. All fine thoughts but he could not even get up, try as he might. Kelarith had become too weak to even roll over if he had wanted to. He cursed himself for his weakness but took comfort in his hatred. The only thing his mind could focus on.
Kelarith did not even notice a soft glow showing through the cracks in his armor.
Time ceased to have meaning. How long had he been here; days? Months? Were those voices he heard echoing? A low growl. Khaine, my lord? All his mind could conjure were thoughts of hatred, vengeance and a jumbled mess of images. Water, teeth biting into him, a burning ship. A female holding a broom. A dripping corsair, an annoying bird and assassins with various weapons. It made no sense to him and it threatened to claim his sanity.
"He should be up ahead, be careful. Even in his weakened state my brother dear could be dangerous."
Kelarith looked up as several figures approached him, he growled like a cornered dog but knew that whatever was going to happen all he could do was watch. A familiar face...
"Well hello brother, just seeing if my..ah, investment is still save."
Kelarith tried to curse but passed out with one last thought.
Veraya...Khaine's balls.
A few weeks ago.
And so Kelarith was back in Har Ganeth in a house he had hoped never to see again. Correction, the great stately mansion of House Valoth. His House, or what used to be his House anyway as he had left it behind when he was but a youngling. For some reason his sister had nursed him back to health over time. Taking great care even and allowing him full freedom, he did not even see any hidden guards or assassins trailing him. Obviously when he finally regained consciousness it had been the death of two guards that were guarding his room but they were easily replaced.
All he wanted to do was Veraya herself but the Temple had told him not to a long time ago so he held back.Maybe she knew his and was confident about her personal safety or maybe...bah!
How Kelarith loathed Druchii politics. He had never missed his so-called noble heritage one bit. All that mattered was Khaine.
His heart ached for the Temple, his true home. But would he even be welcomed back? And why had he been sent to those Cold Hearts in the first place? They were a group of rogue assassins, the Temple should be trying to kill them. Not infiltrate or even aid them!
It took long, too damn long for him until Veraya finally called for him in her private chambers. The same chamber where her, their, father had been killed and from which the power-struggle had erupted. His eldest brother had ruthlessly culled all opposition but had been stupid enough to think Kelarith would somehow be grateful and would have returned with him to become some sort of personal attack dog for him. His older brother had beautified the altar in the Temple within mere seconds after entering.
Kelarith's loyalties no longer lay with House Valoth. But with his actions he unintentionally gave House Valoth away to Veraya and for some reason she was not to be touched. Not that he wanted to topple House Valoth, it was far simpler than that. He wanted no link whatsoever to the outside world. Noble relatives meant a royal pain the ass. They'd always come back to haunt you sooner or later.
"Sit down brother, I so despise that constant military stance of yours."
Kelarith had just stared at her coldly, not changing his position at all, and she sighed.
"Very well. Look, I need not explain to you that House Valoth prospers greatly from our connection to the Temple. We are overlooked every Death Night and assassinations come at...reduced prices." She smiled and looked him straight in the eyes, looking away quickly.
"Father's eyes", she whispered.
Kelarith snorted, his sister had always had a flair for the dramatic. It was this reason many underestimated her and saw her as weak. Little did they know what cold heartless bitch lurked just beneath the surface.
"Look I understand you have no wish to do anything for your family. I know you do not even consider me as such but hear me out for I have helped you ascend once more fallen son of Khaine. The Temple is again open to you, they await you as we speak. It caused me a lot of bargaining, bribes in both money and blood, in order for you to restore your position within the Temple."
Kelarith looked at her, annoyed when he knew she could read his surprise on his uncovered face.
"I am not doing this out of charity, let me be perfectly clear. Having an Executioner from our own House within the Temple gives me standing, a standing I have restored. In the long term your return will pay off for House Valoth. Whether or not you consider yourself to be part of it matters not. The Temple acknowledges it in their own way and so do the other Noble Houses."
She stood up and walked towards him.
"So? What are you waiting for? Go and kill for your Lord. You will find your equipment downstairs in the lobby."
Kelarith immediately turned around and went downstairs. Servants awaited him but he send them away with an annoyed flick of his hand. He would don his own armor even if it took him a full month longer. After he was finished he did not even so much as look back, walking out of the mansion for what was now hopefully the last time.
And so the prodigal son returned. Not much had changed when he arrived again. It was as if he had never been away at all. He had expected punishments, more rigorous exercises that brought him closer to death than ever, verbal humiliations, anything really. But he simply re-assumed his position and life went on as ever.
Slowly, but surely Khaine's presence became stronger within him and he swore before the altar that if he failed again he would take his own life. He was more determined than ever before and if the Temple did not remind him of his failures he would personally see to it. Khaine was please by that.
It wasn't until three weeks later that Hellebron herself had called upon him and whispered dark secrets. What she had told him made things more than clear for him. He now understood why he had been sent to be with the Cold Hearts. It was not as he had expected and certainly hadn't anything to do with his sister.
The Crone felt that he was again ready for the task he had been sent for. They had almost sent another until they heard of his sister and that he had survived. It was far better to resend him than one that had to fit in anew, gaining trust.
"We have heard of your exploits Kelarith and we are pleased. Now you know why it is we have sent you. You will be our messenger of the true way and if they go astray, well, you know what to do."
Now
And so Kelarith set off to Karond Kar once again. He did not feel as much resentment the first time he was sent here. He had clarity now. A purpose. He knew there probably had been reasons for not telling him what the plan with these Cold Hearts was but he had been confused and restless in his mind about it. Things were different this time. And it seemed with the Cold Hearts also, fantastic stories were told about the group on the streets. Not in hushed whispers but as if they were heroes sent by the Dark Muses themselves. Some stories even so much as elevating them to Dark Muses.
It took him a while to reach the dark chamber where he had first set foot in so long ago, meeting the others. The old tunnel underneath the docks still worked as an access-point. It was quiet but it looked like it was still in use. It had to be as the Temple was certain they were active again. They were probably off on some mission.
He walked over to the desk where Markus from whence had directed them, the masked freak with his delusions of grandeur. The same freak who had caused him his grievous wound. Not directly but through his twisted actions.
He sat down behind the desk and waited, noticing some bird droppings in a corner. Ah yes that idiot with his pet bird, what was his name again?
Soon one of them would return, he wondered how many were left and what would be the look on their face if they saw the Executioner sitting there. Maybe they did not want him anymore so he put his Draich on the desk in front of him for easy reach just in case. Either way, he would do Khaine's will.
Kelarith overheard the conversation and nodded. "I am not the fastest but how about I...sneak in my own fashion?" he pointed towards a manhole in the street. "I could use the tunnel system underneath the city to move faster than I normally would be able to. Of course...after all is done I still owe my Dark Lord some guards' heads."
He had run as fast as he had been able to. Too fast for his wounded leg.
During the battle he had already felt that despite the Crone's attention from the local Temple his wound was far from healed. As he had taken his mad dash through the sewer-systems his leg had finally given out. The pain had almost been too much, his leg snapping like a dried twig underneath him. Making him collapse face-forward into the sewage of Karond Kar...
He had panicked when he heard nothing but silence in his head, Khaine had abandoned him for the first time in his life and he could not blame his god. Turning over he just laid there, excrements and the occasional dead body drifting by him, sometimes bumping into him. His only wish was dying so his soul could be claimed but even then he feared that it would not be Khaine who claimed him. The mighty Executioner, on his back in a sewer pipe. Glory pf Khaine indeed.
"I had hoped since we had were starting afresh that we could maintain a vestige of subtlety about our actions, but obvious Kelarith has returned to haunt us again, may his Khainite soul forever burn."
As the days faded in and out he went through all his memories and asked himself how it got to this. Hatred began to take over from his melancholic state and he swore that whoever got him here would pay a hundredfold. All fine thoughts but he could not even get up, try as he might. Kelarith had become too weak to even roll over if he had wanted to. He cursed himself for his weakness but took comfort in his hatred. The only thing his mind could focus on.
Kelarith did not even notice a soft glow showing through the cracks in his armor.
Time ceased to have meaning. How long had he been here; days? Months? Were those voices he heard echoing? A low growl. Khaine, my lord? All his mind could conjure were thoughts of hatred, vengeance and a jumbled mess of images. Water, teeth biting into him, a burning ship. A female holding a broom. A dripping corsair, an annoying bird and assassins with various weapons. It made no sense to him and it threatened to claim his sanity.
"He should be up ahead, be careful. Even in his weakened state my brother dear could be dangerous."
Kelarith looked up as several figures approached him, he growled like a cornered dog but knew that whatever was going to happen all he could do was watch. A familiar face...
"Well hello brother, just seeing if my..ah, investment is still save."
Kelarith tried to curse but passed out with one last thought.
Veraya...Khaine's balls.
A few weeks ago.
And so Kelarith was back in Har Ganeth in a house he had hoped never to see again. Correction, the great stately mansion of House Valoth. His House, or what used to be his House anyway as he had left it behind when he was but a youngling. For some reason his sister had nursed him back to health over time. Taking great care even and allowing him full freedom, he did not even see any hidden guards or assassins trailing him. Obviously when he finally regained consciousness it had been the death of two guards that were guarding his room but they were easily replaced.
All he wanted to do was Veraya herself but the Temple had told him not to a long time ago so he held back.Maybe she knew his and was confident about her personal safety or maybe...bah!
How Kelarith loathed Druchii politics. He had never missed his so-called noble heritage one bit. All that mattered was Khaine.
His heart ached for the Temple, his true home. But would he even be welcomed back? And why had he been sent to those Cold Hearts in the first place? They were a group of rogue assassins, the Temple should be trying to kill them. Not infiltrate or even aid them!
It took long, too damn long for him until Veraya finally called for him in her private chambers. The same chamber where her, their, father had been killed and from which the power-struggle had erupted. His eldest brother had ruthlessly culled all opposition but had been stupid enough to think Kelarith would somehow be grateful and would have returned with him to become some sort of personal attack dog for him. His older brother had beautified the altar in the Temple within mere seconds after entering.
Kelarith's loyalties no longer lay with House Valoth. But with his actions he unintentionally gave House Valoth away to Veraya and for some reason she was not to be touched. Not that he wanted to topple House Valoth, it was far simpler than that. He wanted no link whatsoever to the outside world. Noble relatives meant a royal pain the ass. They'd always come back to haunt you sooner or later.
"Sit down brother, I so despise that constant military stance of yours."
Kelarith had just stared at her coldly, not changing his position at all, and she sighed.
"Very well. Look, I need not explain to you that House Valoth prospers greatly from our connection to the Temple. We are overlooked every Death Night and assassinations come at...reduced prices." She smiled and looked him straight in the eyes, looking away quickly.
"Father's eyes", she whispered.
Kelarith snorted, his sister had always had a flair for the dramatic. It was this reason many underestimated her and saw her as weak. Little did they know what cold heartless bitch lurked just beneath the surface.
"Look I understand you have no wish to do anything for your family. I know you do not even consider me as such but hear me out for I have helped you ascend once more fallen son of Khaine. The Temple is again open to you, they await you as we speak. It caused me a lot of bargaining, bribes in both money and blood, in order for you to restore your position within the Temple."
Kelarith looked at her, annoyed when he knew she could read his surprise on his uncovered face.
"I am not doing this out of charity, let me be perfectly clear. Having an Executioner from our own House within the Temple gives me standing, a standing I have restored. In the long term your return will pay off for House Valoth. Whether or not you consider yourself to be part of it matters not. The Temple acknowledges it in their own way and so do the other Noble Houses."
She stood up and walked towards him.
"So? What are you waiting for? Go and kill for your Lord. You will find your equipment downstairs in the lobby."
Kelarith immediately turned around and went downstairs. Servants awaited him but he send them away with an annoyed flick of his hand. He would don his own armor even if it took him a full month longer. After he was finished he did not even so much as look back, walking out of the mansion for what was now hopefully the last time.
And so the prodigal son returned. Not much had changed when he arrived again. It was as if he had never been away at all. He had expected punishments, more rigorous exercises that brought him closer to death than ever, verbal humiliations, anything really. But he simply re-assumed his position and life went on as ever.
Slowly, but surely Khaine's presence became stronger within him and he swore before the altar that if he failed again he would take his own life. He was more determined than ever before and if the Temple did not remind him of his failures he would personally see to it. Khaine was please by that.
It wasn't until three weeks later that Hellebron herself had called upon him and whispered dark secrets. What she had told him made things more than clear for him. He now understood why he had been sent to be with the Cold Hearts. It was not as he had expected and certainly hadn't anything to do with his sister.
The Crone felt that he was again ready for the task he had been sent for. They had almost sent another until they heard of his sister and that he had survived. It was far better to resend him than one that had to fit in anew, gaining trust.
"We have heard of your exploits Kelarith and we are pleased. Now you know why it is we have sent you. You will be our messenger of the true way and if they go astray, well, you know what to do."
Now
And so Kelarith set off to Karond Kar once again. He did not feel as much resentment the first time he was sent here. He had clarity now. A purpose. He knew there probably had been reasons for not telling him what the plan with these Cold Hearts was but he had been confused and restless in his mind about it. Things were different this time. And it seemed with the Cold Hearts also, fantastic stories were told about the group on the streets. Not in hushed whispers but as if they were heroes sent by the Dark Muses themselves. Some stories even so much as elevating them to Dark Muses.
It took him a while to reach the dark chamber where he had first set foot in so long ago, meeting the others. The old tunnel underneath the docks still worked as an access-point. It was quiet but it looked like it was still in use. It had to be as the Temple was certain they were active again. They were probably off on some mission.
He walked over to the desk where Markus from whence had directed them, the masked freak with his delusions of grandeur. The same freak who had caused him his grievous wound. Not directly but through his twisted actions.
He sat down behind the desk and waited, noticing some bird droppings in a corner. Ah yes that idiot with his pet bird, what was his name again?
Soon one of them would return, he wondered how many were left and what would be the look on their face if they saw the Executioner sitting there. Maybe they did not want him anymore so he put his Draich on the desk in front of him for easy reach just in case. Either way, he would do Khaine's will.
