Chapter: 5.5

Chapter: Landfall

Part: 5

Escape Pod Epsilon-III

Arlenen had stood face to face with the Ork Warboss, surrounded by his bellowing Nobz, each one eager for a fight. The situation had been far from ideal, but Arlenen was a Farseer and her powers were meant for that title.

"Oi, ya thin' ya can com 'ere and mess wit' me boyz, ya puny git?"

The Warboss, towering over her with brutish strength, bellowed, his voice reverberating through the confined space of the Orbit station.

He was the first to fall, a quick death but not without struggle. 

The Warboss had grazed her ribs with its massive power klaws and she had ignored the pain for a time, dancing gracefully between them, her movements fluid and graceful, her blade deadly. Despite their brute strength and ferocity, the Orks were no match for a war-hardened Farseer's skill and finesse. One by one, they fell before her, their roars of rage silenced by the swift stroke of her blade.

But the damage was already done, she was wounded and exhausted, and she had made good use of her psychic abilities. Left with no choice, she made her way to a secluded chamber so she could recuperate, only to find herself sealed inside. 

And then a bumbling Mon'keigh had come crashing on her rest, her face marked with desperation, and she had waited to see what danger might have forced the Mon'kiegh to flee in such a hurry... and the primitive beast had the AUDACITY TO GRAB HER HAIR!

Of course, they had fought!

Even though she was wounded and her witchsword was not answering her calls, she had still bested the Mon'keigh, but the treacherous beast used a hidden weapon to wound her! 

Thankfully she had just managed to pin the Mon'keigh to the wall with her witchsword.

For a moment, it seemed like they would have to pelt each other with insults until one of them healed first and finished off the other, but the female Mon'keigh fainted, as expected of an inferior race!

It took a while, but her wounds started to mend and she could stand...

So why in the name of Isha was she not able to kill this Mon'keigh wench?!

=*=

Farseer Arlenen Saelana, her mind filled with frustration and annoyance, stood over the unconscious form of the Inquisitor. As for how she knew this Mon'keigh was an Inquisitor of her race, well, the Mon'kiegh's thoughts were obnoxiously loud... 

Despite her wounds and weariness, the Aeldari's senses were sharp, her gaze piercing as she assessed the situation. The Mon'keigh lay before her, seemingly defenseless in her unconscious state. Arlenen knew she could easily finish off the Inquisitor with a swift stroke of the Mon'keigh's power blade, yet something held her back.

As she looked down at Greybrand, a peculiar sense of curiosity washed over her, it was as if she still had a role to play that the Farseer was unaware of... and that held her back from finishing off the Inquisitor.

Arlenen's mind raced with questions, each one more perplexing than the last. She had encountered countless foes in her meager life of four hundred passes, but there was something different about this human, something that intrigued her in ways she couldn't explain.

With a sigh, Arlenen lowered the power sword and set it aside. She knelt beside Greybrand, her movements cautious yet deliberate.

"You are a curious creature, Mon'keigh,"

She murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

"What secrets do you hold, I wonder?"

For a moment, Arlenen considered probing the Inquisitor's mind with her psychic abilities, delving into the depths of her consciousness to uncover the truths hidden within. But she hesitated, a nagging sense of unease creeping into her thoughts.

Instead, she reached out and gently shook Greybrand's shoulder, her touch light yet firm.

"Awaken, Mon'keigh,"

She urged, her voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and impatience.

"You have much to answer for."

But Greybrand remained unconscious, her breathing shallow and ragged. Arlenen frowned, a faint furrow appearing on her brow as she contemplated her next course of action.

With a sigh, she rose to her feet, her gaze lingering on the Inquisitor and for a moment she considered removing her witchsword that pinned the Mon'keigh to the wall, but ultimately, she decided against it.

She glanced around the escape pod, there was much that had turned into wreckage from the Inquisitor's careless shooting. For a race so uncivilized and barbaric, she was forced to admit they made tools of death with surprising efficiency 

The unconscious Inquisitor stirred slightly, a mumble escaping her lips, and Arlenen's attention returned to the present. Putting aside her general opinion of humans, she was forced to admit that this specimen was quite easy on the eyes, even a bit beddable by her standards...

"What foolishness!"

Arlenen shook her head, throwing aside such indulgent thoughts, this must be the work of she-who-thirsts! She must be trying to tempt her! 

Hmph! If that was the case then the abomination would have to try harder!

"You Mon'keigh are such fragile creatures,"

She remarked, trying to hide the quiver in her voice by lacing it with mocking amusement.

"But the universe is full of surprises, isn't it?"

With a flick of her wrist, Arlenen activated a holographic communication device, projecting an image of her vessel in front of her. Her fingers danced over the controls as she transmitted a message to her kin.

"Prepare for extraction,"

She ordered tersely.

"And bring a containment field. We have a Mon'keigh to take back with us."

As Arlenen waited for her kin to respond to her transmission, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settling over her. The presence of the unconscious Inquisitor in the escape pod was a complication she hadn't anticipated, and she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this human than met the eye.

Her thoughts drifted back to the vision that had plagued her dreams, the world overrun by soulless abominations and the desperate struggle of the Aeldari to prevent it. Was this Inquisitor somehow connected to that vision? Or was she merely a pawn caught in the machinations of fate?

Arlenen shook her head, pushing aside such speculative thoughts. She was a Farseer, and her duty was to interpret the strands of fate, not to become entangled in them herself. Whatever secrets this Inquisitor held, they would reveal themselves in due time.

The holographic communication device blinked to life, and a voice crackled through the speakers. It was Kelmad, her fellow Farseer and confidant.

"Extraction team standing by,"

He reported, his tone filled with a sense of urgency.

"We have a containment field ready to deploy. What is the status of the prisoner?"

Arlenen glanced at Greybrand once more, her brow furrowing in thought. She debated whether to reveal the truth about the Inquisitor's unconscious state, but ultimately decided against it. There was no need to divulge unnecessary information to her kin, especially not one that might suggest she was wounded by the creature... definitely not.

"The prisoner is secured,"

She replied smoothly, her voice steady and composed.

"Prepare to initiate retrieval sequence."

With a nod, Kelmad acknowledged her command before signing off. Arlenen deactivated the holographic communication device and turned her attention back to the Inquisitor. She considered her options carefully, weighing the risks and benefits of taking the human prisoner.

On one hand, the Inquisitor could prove to be a valuable source of information about the Imperium's plans and defenses. On the other hand, she was a dangerous enemy, one who would stop at nothing to see the Aeldari eradicated.

In the end, Arlenen decided that the potential benefits outweighed the risks. She would take the Inquisitor back to her craftworld for interrogation, where she could be questioned by the Farseer council and subjected to psychic probes if necessary.

"Rest well, Mon'keigh,"

She murmured, her voice soft yet tinged with a hint of warning.

"For your trials have only just begun."

Another moment passed as she studied the unconscious Mon'keigh, wondering how insulting it was that she even entertained the idea that this... this... 'thing' was beddable by 'her' standards.

"Time to go, Mon'keigh,"

She muttered under her breath, her tone laced with a mixture of irritation and disgust.

With a swift motion, Arlenen pulled out her witchsword, releasing Greybrand from her impromptu imprisonment. The metallic smell of fresh blood wafted off of the blade as it hummed back to life and spoke to her once again. 

=*=