Chapter: 6.3

Chapter: Captivity & Escape

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Part: 3

On board: Hemlock-Class Destroyer 'Tears to Ashes'

The Dungeon

The Aeldari's preferred mode of torture seemed to be isolation and starvation. It couldn't have been anything else, after all, the last she saw of the Farseer was nearly a week ago.

Greybrand groaned, her body aching from the extended periods of sitting in the cramp and damp cell of the Aeldari Dungeon. The cold embrace seemed to deep into her bones, making every movement take a considerable amount of effort.

As she shifted on the cold, hard floor, Greybrand's gaze drifted over to the interface hovering before her eyes.

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Name: Inquisitor Seraphia Credelle Greybrand

Race: Human(Psyker)

Allegiance:

Emperor of Mankind; The Imperium of Man,

The Holy Orders of the Emperor's Inquisition; Ordo Xenos.

Attributes

Physique: 27(19)

Psyke: 18.0198(18.0409) (Eta Grade)

Lottery

Daily: (1/1)

Weekly: (1/1)

Inventory:

1) Butcher-Class Gunship Blueprint

2) Troop Card: Stormtroopers Platoon (50) {Star Wars} X 3

=*=

It seems as though her luck has done a nosedive ever since she was captured. Of the six daily lotteries she had spun, three had yielded 'Better luck next time' and three had troop cards for some sort of infantry.

Sure a hundred and fifty soldiers would make for good meat-shields against ordinary Aeldari combatants... but a Farseer was an entirely different breed of nightmares.

A dim starry light filtered through the small barred window in her cell, it was not the luster of the Accazius system's star but the psychic residue of the Aeldari craft's engines. The passage of time seemed lucid in her captivity, but her internal clock, and the system, told her nearly a week had passed.

Hunger gnawed at her stomach, thirst came second, and the Inquisitor felt her eyes close on their own.... perhaps her time had come, prematurely so. 

*Ding*

[You sure are a dramatist, Insignificant one.]

Greybrand chuckled hoarsely,

'So you are still here?'

[Where else would I be? We made a pact remember.]

She pushed down a groan and sat up straight, glaring at the interface that seemed to be shinning with renewed vigor,

'Start the lottery.'

[A fair warning, Insignificant one. I have fused the roulette and now there would only be one draw and not four to choose from... At least not for daily, weekly, and monthly spins.]

'Just start the damned thing!'

Greybrand was not listening, listening took precious concentration that was slowly slipping out of her hand.

[Very well, Insignificant one.]

{Daily draw 1/1}

The familiar roulette shimmered into view and it spun as Greybrand stared at the possible rewards. Legate-Class Dreadnaught... Centurian-Class Frigate... Avalon-Class Starport... A Gender-bent Primarch... Wait! What?

But before she could ask the question out loud, the roulette stopped spinning and the ball fell on another troop card.

There was something wrong with this one though, it shone unlike the others, and under the Inquisitor's watchful eyes, its title changed from 'troop' to 'technical support staff.'

[A couple of glitches in the system, they will be hushed out soon, Insignificant one.]

'Sure...'

[Technical Support Staff: Two hundred and fifty individuals with adequate training to get any spaceship up and running.]

...

..

.

'...and?'

If that was about it, then her hope of escaping the Aeldari dungeon just went up in flames. What Good was a bunch of mechanics in rescuing someone from the depths of a Xeno space craft?

She glanced at the interface again, eager for more options.

{Weekly draw 1/1}

The roulette appeared again and Greybrand focused on the potential prizes in the newer and fancier-looking construct. Grunt Power-Armor... Combat Jacket... Psychic Augmentation... Eldar Spiritstone... A plushie of the Emperor... What in the Emperor's Name!!???

{Rejuvenation Potion x 1}

[Rejuvenation Potion: A concoction brewed by a particular species to help soldiers suffering from combat fatigue and malnourishment... slight side-effects may be experienced upon ingestion.]

Greybrand didn't read past the word 'malnourishment.'

She concentrated what little strength she had left in her body and reached out towards the interface, meeting the potion midway as it materialized. 

The potion was bottled in a smokey vial a little longer than her index finger, but not much wider either. Surprisingly, it had no cork...

[You're welcome.]

Greybrand's lips quirked up in a soft smile as she downed the whole vial. 

The colorless, odorless, tasteless, and probably traceless liquid slid down her throat in a gentle glide, but the sensation that followed was anything but smooth.

The world lurched and tilted and swam as the potion flooded Greybrand's system. A searing heat erupted from her stomach, spreading outwards like wildfire. A wave of dizziness slammed into her like a sledgehammer, threatening to topple her over. 

Was this the rejuvenation, or the 'slight' side-effects of the damned potion?

Gritting her teeth, Greybrand pushed through the discomfort. She tried reaching out to the warp, tendrils of psychic energy searching for weakness in the Aeldari craft's defenses. The bars of her cell pulsed with faint energy signatures as she reeled back in pain as the tendrils were torn out from her mind.

'Anti-Psyker technology!'

She cursed, feeling the Imperium's inadequate technological advancement now more than ever before.

Frustration gnawed at her. Psychic brute force failed to work. She sank back against the cold floor, her initial optimism dimming. Perhaps the potion was still effective or maybe it's side-effects were yet to come for she felt a torrent of heat rage in her belly.

In the grim silence of the dungeon, a faint sound echoed. Footsteps, light and deliberate, approached her cell. It was that damned Farseer, couldn't have been anyone else.

The Aeldari Farseer materialized before her, a soft smirk playing on her lips as she strolled towards the Inquisitor,

"Have you grown weary of solitude, Inquisitor?"

The Aeldari's voice had that slight mocking tone to it, but what caught Greybrand's attention was her garment... Or lack thereof.

The Farseer wore a sheer, translucent robe of a purple shade that left very little to the imagination, its fabric clinging to her curves in all the right places causing Greybrand to avert her eyes. She let out a suppressed snort of disgust... Or it might just have been the effort it took to her face straight despite the rising heat in her stomach.

"Hardly,"

Greybrand replied through gritted teeth, her voice laced with disdain which was overshadowed by the effort it took her not to stutter.

"Impressive choice of attire, Farseer,"

Greybrand continued with a strained smile,

"I didn't realize it was 'barely there' season on this ship."

The Farseer's smirk widened, clearly amused by Greybrand's defiance. She sauntered closer, her movements fluid and graceful.

"Oh, Inquisitor, you wound me,"

the Farseer purred, her voice laced with mock hurt.

"Can't a Farseer come to check on her favorite plaything?"

'... Favorite plaything?'

She tried to keep her annoyance hidden behind a stoic facade. Although being called "Favorite Plaything" by a half-naked Farseer was enough to leave an impression on anyone.

Greybrand felt hot air brush lightly against her cheeks as the Farseer leaned in close. She breathed in the Farseer heavy perfume, a pungent yet sweet scent that she had never known before.

She felt the Farseer's hand run along the sides of her face up to her shoulders, brushing softly and rhythmically up and down.

The Inquisitor suddenly felt the heat in her stomach rise a few degrees in intensity, her face going red and her breaths becoming groans. She fought to stay conscious, to keep control of her bodily functions that were going haywire after taking the rejuvenation potion.

"Oh, are you tired, Inquisitor?"

The Farseer's touch was soft and teasing, causing the Inquisitor to squirm under her tender caress, her muscles clenching and relaxing in response.

The heat inside her core was becoming unbearable, suddenly, she was finding it difficult to think coherently.

"Shut up..."

She moaned, trying to push the Farseer away, while her body betrayed her feelings, sending pleasurable sensations coursing through her nerves.

[Insignificant one... It appears you are quite busy. Don't worry, I won't take much of your time. Just wanted to remind you, that the portion's side effects include an aphrodisiac influence on those using it for the first time. Enjoy.]

"Fars...ser..."

Greybrand's voice was a little more than a pant, fighting back against the urge to pin the Farseer against the floors, and yet...

The Aeldari simply smirked, leaning her head forward so that those lustrous black lips were only a few inches from the Inquisitor's chaffed ones.

She tried to push herself away from the Farseer, but her weakened body was no match for the Farseer's vice-like grip.

"Get... away!"

Greybrand panted, barely managing to turn her lips away from the Farseer's tempting grace. Instead, she felt a wet and sickeningly sweet sensation blooming on her cheek and felt herself being marked... with an Aeldari's kiss.

She couldn't help but wonder...

'What in the Emperor's name did the Aeldari use for lipsticks?'