| Archon (9#, 439 Pts) 1 Archon @ 439 Pts Agonizer; Splinter Pistol; Combat Drug Dispenser; Shadow Field; Trophy Rack; Haywire Grenades; Plasma Grenades 1 Retinue @ [297] Pts 5 Incubi @ [147] Pts Blaster (x2); Tormentor Helm; Punisher (x3); Plasma Grenades 1 Raider @ [60] Pts Dark Lance; Horrorfex 1 Drazhar @ [90] Pts Disembowler Blades; Tormentor Helm |
| Reaver Jetbike Squad (3#, 95 Pts)
3 Reaver Jetbike Squad @ 95 Pts Splinter Pistol; Blaster (x2); Splinter Rifle (x3); Combat Drugs; Reaver Jetbike |
| Warrior Squad (10#, 156 Pts) 9 Warrior Squad @ 156 Pts Splinter Rifle (x7); Dark Lance (x2) 1 Sybarite @ [64] Pts Webway Portal; Splinter Rifle Warrior Squad (10#, 156 Pts) 9 Warrior Squad @ 156 Pts Splinter Rifle (x7); Dark Lance (x2) 1 Sybarite @ [64] Pts Webway Portal; Splinter Rifle Warrior Squad (10#, 113 Pts) 9 Warrior Squad @ 113 Pts Splinter Rifle (x7); Dark Lance (x2) 1 Sybarite @ [21] Pts Poison Blades; Splinter Pistol; Plasma Grenades Raider Squad (11#, 208 Pts) 9 Raider Squad @ 208 Pts Blaster; Splinter Rifle (x7); Splinter Cannon; Raider 1 Sybarite @ [61] Pts Poison Blades; Splinter Pistol; Crucible of Malediction ; Plasma Grenades; Xenospasm 1 Raider @ [60] Pts Dark Lance; Horrorfex |
| Elite: Wyches (11#, 263 Pts) 9 Wyches @ 263 Pts Close Combat Weapon; Splinter Pistol; Wych Weapons; Combat Drugs; Plasma Grenades 1 Succubus @ [77] Pts Agonizer; Splinter Pistol; Wych Weapons; Combat Drug Dispenser; Trophy Rack; Plasma Grenades (Squad); Archangel of Pain 1 Raider @ [60] Pts Dark Lance; Horrorfex Warp Beasts (6#, 75 Pts) 5 Warp Beasts @ 75 Pts Beastmaster 1 Beast master @ [15] Pts Agonizer; Splinter Pistol |
| Heavy Support: Ravager (1#, 120 Pts) 1 Ravager @ 120 Pts Dark Lance (x1); Disentegrator (x2); Horrorfex Heavy Support: Ravager (1#, 120 Pts) 1 Ravager @ 120 Pts Dark Lance (x1); Disentegrator (x2); Horrorfex |
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| Kabal of Sibilant Whispers Dracon Kharax of the kabal of Sibilant whispers marched into the entry passage of the palace his Kabal called home. It was nothing too fancy, but decadent enough to be tolerated by the finicky tastes of his people. Once again he returned with a successful raid behind him. Today was different, however. This raid had been much more successful and with much less attrition than the Kabal was accustomed to, which meant he was in a perfect position to enact the plot he had prepared all these months. The Kabal was losing members, it's leader, the Archon Zharel, was an ancient creature, and the Kabal was not successful enough to sustain his immense thirst, or so it was said. His orders and tactics consequently suffered. Kharax expected little difficulty swaying any warriors that weren't already behind him, now that he had so many prizes and the promise of success to offer. Kharaz entered to throne room of the once great Archon, Kharaz still remembered his superior when he had taken his position of power, a quick, nearly bloodless coup the likes of which were uncommon and an example to be remembered. Now Zharel was a husk of what he once was, silent and still, and shrouded in the unnatural shadows around his throne. Other cultures and species would have long ago retired such a leader, with honors for his years of service, no doubt. A good example of why other races were so inept. The creature couldn't even be bothered to speak much, relaying his orders through his Incubi Master. Zharel didn't even offer greeting or praise to his Dracon, who privately reminded himself he required neither. "A feast of souls, tonight!" Kharax spoke confidently, his voice echoing against the walls of the immense room. He approached the throne, granted the additional proximity for his success. The room was almost empty, not unusual, but strange nevertheless. The Archon's Incubi and a few warrior servants were the only audience present. The Archon looked at him, weak and pathetic, and again said nothing. Kharax looked at the Eldar in The room, he knew this Incubi master would assist him in this, his own rise to power, and the few warriors present were his men. This would be easy. "I bring news of successful raids against the imperium of man, veterans of fine vintage." He advanced another few steps. He could hear the assembled Dark ones reveling in anticipation. "And I bring warriors of chaos, twisted, dark souls for those brave enough to sample them." A few more steps. "But of greater interest, I offer the delicacy of Daemon slaves, captured from the armies of the great enemy herself!" this great honor afforded him the closest proximity allowed to his Archon in the throne room. He bowed deeply before the old creature, and gave silent nod to the nearby warriors, assembled specifically for this moment. The Sybarite received the nod, and with the speed and grace expected of any Dark Eldar, revealed his agonizer and threw it to Kharax. The bodyguard flew into action, an armed Dracon in the throne room meant but one thing. The mutinous warriors moved to Kharax's defense, but all of that was secondary to his goal. Taking the long, jagged blade, he rushed the throne, gathering as much momentum as possible in order to puncture whatever defenses were revealed. The Archon could only gasp his eyes wide with the horror of his impending death. In an instant, it was over, and everything was quiet. Kharax drank in the meager soul of his former master, and his senses sharpened. He looked at the pitiful husk. Still slightly delirious from the high of the escaping soul, he was still aware of certain unusual things. Zharel was even more ragged than he had expected, and bore a deep, puss-filled wound on his forehead. Obviously lobotomized, the pathetic creature was an invalid. His lips were tightly sewn shut, and his wrists and ankles tightly bound to the throne. "He is not the Archon..." Kharax whispered, the truth becoming clear. He was paralyzed with fear as realization came. The strike came swiftly, a punisher severing his weapon hand. The next strike severing the tendons behind his knee. kharax fell to his back, staring up at the Master incubus, who had removed his helmet. The incubi master was familiar, a strong, well fed creature of palest white flesh and ancient intelligence Kharax met face to face with the original founder of the Kabal of Sibilant whispers. "Fool, you truly believe any of us can truly hold power by sitting on a throne, waiting for some upstart to come and send us to she who thirsts? Only the most arrogant would risk our final, terrible reward by behaving like some Mon-Keigh Emperor. But I expect that lesson will reveal itself to you eventually, just as it did for Zharel." "All hail our new Archon!" Tenebrae, as he was known, stated sarcastically, an evil grin crossing his lips. "May he be more successful than the last, and bring our Kabal the glory it deserves." Kharaz spared a glace around the room, wyches and Mandrakes had appeared through secret passages and shadows to quickly capture and kill those who participated in the coup. Tenebrae spoke again. "A successful leader forgoes glory for security, and never reveals himself to his enemies, don't you agree, Kharax?" Without waiting for an answer, Tenebrae passed his prisoner to an eager pair of Haemonculi. "Prepare our New Archon, will you, give him the honor he has sought so long." |
| Ed Klein |
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| A FEAST OF SOULS, TONIGHT! |