Nehekor was quite pleased with just how easily his machine body had crushed the windpipe of the primitive human, truly these ‘mighty races’ where not as mighty as they thought. His people had battled ancient civilisations that could be called by the standards of these humans. The blue monstrosities looked somewhat better, maybe even worth the same as a warrior, but they were not of the class set by the Necrons. The Eldar…the great enemy of eons passed, where they and their accursed ‘Old Ones’ battled his people; they dared to battle HIS people! Alongside those, those green skinned brutes that were as monstrously stupid as to likely not even remember what their ancestors did! It was all rage inducing for the skeletal Necron Lord, but he held his anger well and truly in check, as was required when dealing with the…lesser races, a concept that not even the Eldar were spared of. However, anger had certainly not been spared when the Great Enemy and their Old Ones assailed his people into nigh oblivion…when the disparate kingdoms of old arise and united once more under a Great King, the declining Great Enemy will shudder in his boots. For the legions of the Necrons would rule them, rule them all! And take their rightful prize!<br/><br/>His thinking had left him vulnerable however, and while Nehekor stood there thinking of just how petty other races were, a great pole-arm hit the wall just an inch in front of his current location. This would not be tolerated, not at all.<span style="color: #FF0000">“ENOUGH!!!”</span>He shouted with a volume far greater than any mortal voice could achieve.<span style="color: #FF0000">“Great Enemy, if I was here to slay you then know this: I would be tried so already! Not all motives are linked to you!” </span>However, he didn’t believe for a moment that the Great Enemy would ever believe such things, for they were ever fickle and blindly aggressive when dealing with his people, always so aggressive.<span style="color: #FF0000">“Imagine this in your fleshy mind; I could have merely had this planet destroyed. Quashed before ever setting foot within sectors of this…place, had its star go supernova and wipe you all from existence. Yet I DID NOT, my motives are my own, as your own activities your own. Leave the past in the past, and leave your petty aggression with it.”</span><br/><br/>The same calm expression still graced the Lord’s metallic face, a perfect image of the calm concealing not a storm, but a tempest of absolute anger and aggression should the lesser race dare to lay a hand on him. It was when he witnessed one of the Great Enemy’s allies trying to drag it off did his expression change, and an ever so slight smile graced his face. Did the Great Enemy’s offspring race truly care for them so much? Perhaps the Cryptarks could cut them up, should they prove aggressive.<br/><br/>When the Great Enemy ran at him, he did nothing. He would repair after apparent ‘death’ and he had one other trick…a phase shifter. A device that, if used properly, would render nigh all attacks moot. And he had timed it well indeed…<br/><br/>--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/><br/>Morskrar listened to his newfound buddy, and apparently he was the great Wortbad of the under rungs of the hive! The nigh legendary fighter that’d broken humans of all shapes and sizes into an even squishier paste then they were normally.<span style="color: #00FF00">“Youz da great Wortbad?! Iz an honur to see da legund in da green!” </span>He exclaimed, a toothy grin creasing his face. As a kommando, he had never really experienced the ‘proppa Orky lyf’ like many of his peers had, the idea of getting shot before getting to chop someone up…and be wasted, was never a great idea in his head. His cunning, cunning head.<span style="color: #00FF00">“I ‘erd about dem dok oomanz, sum of da ova oomanz talk about ‘em like dere so speshul and powaful. Dey don’t know proppa powa like we Orkz do!” </span>He said after hearing that the human ‘doks’ had wanted to prod and poke among his buddy’s insides. It just wasn’t orky!<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF00">“Dem oomanz just can’t fight like a proppa Ork can, but, I ‘earz that dem big oomanz in da arma…uh…speshss Mareens or woteva dey are. Iz pretty ‘ard.”</span>Morskrar said when listening to just how pathetic the opponents in the arena were. It was disgraceful that they dared to pit some measly human against an Ork. It was just plain unfair on the human.<br/><br/>However, when he heard Wortbad talking about the ‘knife earz’ and how it just brushed passed him like it was ‘arder than him, Morskrar looked at the creature and gave a rather gruff and intimidating growl of anger. He didn’t know all too much about the creatures, but it looked even more a pansy than a human did!<span style="color: #00FF00">“Nah, dey look like bigga panzes dan oomanz do. I mean, dey ain’t got no strungth behind ‘um, look at ‘em! Like mezuly littul stickz with armz and legz. Dey ain’t any challenge for an Ork.”</span><br/><br/>He stopped there however, as he heard someone shout extremely loudly, far louder than any human could do surely. Turning around, he noticed that it was one of those skeleton things, a ‘Nekrun’ he’d heard one of the Mek boyz call it before. Though admittedly, Morskrar himself didn’t have a clue about the things, he knew that they liked to get back up after being chopped up though, and that was all he ever asked for in a foe. Something that could take a good beating.<br/><br/>-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/><br/>Just before walking to the table, Heraz looked back to the human guardsman he had tried to scare, and listened to what he said. The human had made an attempt to seem like he wasn’t a loyalist, but he didn’t do so well. Heraz was not impressed, a few aliens in a seedy bar was never enough to prove anything to anyone. However, the guardsman didn’t need to know that his lies were not believed.<span style="color: #4040BF"> “Good, however I will be watching you, do not even think of running to you pathetic Emperor after this, understood? And I am unaffected by such things as cigarettes.”</span>With that he looked once more at Fain and listened to what his brother had to say to him.<br/><br/>Calling Aleria a ‘her’ was always odd, Heraz had never truly gotten used to it, and likely never would do. The thought of a Slaanesh wishing to become the opposite gender wasn’t an odd concept, but it was confusing at times.<span style="color: #4040BF">“Indeed, however it is hardly her fault; we are surrounded by the filthy masses of the Corpse Emperor’s…dogs. To even call them human is a grave error, for these are not people. They are slaves. Pure and simple. They follow the Corpse because they find hope in him…a false and fragile hope…all placed on a rotting corpse that hardly anyone in the Imperium will ever see.”</span>He responded to Fain when he spoke of his sister’s resentment of this entire place.<span style="color: #4040BF">“However…I have a…plan. The weaver of fates has granted me rare insight, and I know how we can leave this place.”</span>Being granted enlightenment from Tzeentch was like taking blood from a stone, and he was indeed lying, but every lie fed his master, and a powerful master was a happy one at that.<br/><br/>Heraz chuckled quietly when the sister marine spoke once more, her words laced with spite and hatred for this place that they were stuck upon. He could hardly blame her indeed; this place was the hell hole of humanity, that much was certain. At least death worlds actually had some freedom…this place was slavery and idiots, a horrible mixture that would likely displease his lord.<span style="color: #4040BF">“Sister, all problems shall once be solved, when that it is…remains a mystery</span>.” He smiled at the female space marine, a friendly smile amidst the tense air of the bar. So many aliens together could never be a good idea. Ever. Leaving his brother to his drink, Heraz walked over to Aleria’s table and took a seat. The stool literally creaked under the weight of power armour, but it held, barely.<span style="color: #4040BF">“Greetings sister.” </span>He said to Aleria with a nod. His interaction with her beforehand had never been all too extensive. Perhaps she would be interested in leaving this place however…<br/><br/>-------------------------------------------------------<br/><br/>Shas’Ui T’au Ash’Vren smiled at her fellow Tau, seeing another of her kind was brilliant, which she realised all too more when she had questioned him, and settled her own curiosity. Seeing another like herself on a world of the Gue’la was always a rare treat, but she loved to talk with them, especially those that were once, or still were, experienced warriors of the Fire caste. Smiling, she averted her eyes from the documents she was reading, and listened to the male Tau speak. His story actually matched her assumption about him, one of the few ill-fated fire warriors that were unfortunately left here during an equally ill-fated attack.<span style="color: #FFBF00">“The recent attack left you here.” </span>She paused a moment.<span style="color: #FFBF00"> “Your sept still has need of you, and…” </span>She leaned closer to him.<span style="color: #FFBF00">“I still have secure contacts with the fire caste on a nearby sept world, when I am done here I can help you go back to our homeworld.” </span><br/><br/>A large smile adorned her face as she sat back in her seat, resuming the sitting position she had been in moments ago.<span style="color: #FFBF00">“I am here with the Fire caste. A scout, gathering information that may aid another attack. Though sometimes I doubt that any of my gatherings will be of use…this place is horrible. The Gue’la are treated like animals by their masters, the Greater Good has yet to turn it’s enlightenment to this place.”</span>She answered him regarding why she was here, but her tone was slightly depressed. She had been present here for several months now, always gathering information on the locals and on the industrial complexes here. All going towards a newly hatched invasion being planned…and hopefully her ticket off of this blasted planet.<br/><br/>When the voice of an unnatural creature was shouted louder than any creature of flesh could hope to do across the bar, she instinctively looked over at the source of the shouting. Apparently a few of the bar’s Eldar had taken to harassing a…skeleton? That was likely not what the creature was, but its exact natural wasn’t entirely apparent.<span style="color: #FFBF00"> “What is going on there?” </span>She asked the Male Tau, hoping that he would have a clue about the metal creature.<br/><br/>------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/><br/>Kayriel was far too busy with the horrific tasting wine at first to notice the apparent fight between a fellow Eldar and one of the Great Enemies, a Necron, apparently of high status. He had yet to actually attack anyone, which said that his motives perhaps did not end here, but rather elsewhere. When she did notice their small battle however, she was not amused. Standing up, she drew her sword and activated the weapon’s power field, surrounding the blade in a wreath of cobalt energy, capable of slicing through the thickest of armours. She watched as her fellow Eldar threw a large Pole-arm at the Great Enemy, which unfortunately missed. Her psychic powers would likely be useless on the Necron, for she had never had to test them against the indomitable will of a millennia old machine, whose race could snuff out stars. But she did not attack yet.<br/><br/>Standing still, but still fully prepared for combat, she listened to the words of the Necron Lord, of how his intentions were not of murder and mass destruction, but rather to be found elsewhere. While she hardly trusted Necrons of any and all sorts, their kind once being the lackeys of the star ‘gods’ which were known as the C’tan. However, the fact that the creature had yet to attack the Eldar spoke wonders of how little in the ways of hostile he was. Perhaps he did speak the truth, for ancient texts of the times before the fall of the Eldar star empire taught that the Great Enemy had technology powerful enough to sunder stars with little more than the press of a glowing glyph, and the might to shatter mountains with tiny slivers of metal.<br/><br/>Kayriel was close to believing the Necron, as bizarre as that ever sounded, an Eldar thinking of trusting one of the Great Enemy? Such a thing was nigh on full madness! But it was not madness that stopped her from cleaving the machine apart, but rather wisdom. An enemy avoided wreaked no immediate damage, yet could come back. A fought enemy inflicted horrendous damage, and in this case could still come back from the dead. She didn’t know what to think; did she join her fellow’s and assault the machine? Or did she side WITH the machine and prevent its eventual damage? Her mind was made up the instant her fellow Eldar jumped a table and ran at the machine.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF00FF">“Stop this madness!”</span>She bellowed at the harlequin as loud as she could, not wanting to have to hurt the woman, but she would do if need be. The saving of a whole sector of space was far more important than some jumped-up harlequin.