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WH40K Chooser of the Dying: pt6 Conclusion“There’s a good lad.” Purred Kulidite “Help him up boys, there’s no reason we cannot remain civil.” Izbor grunted as he was hauled to his feet again.
“I need my hands free.” He growled. “And not here, outside.” Kulidite arched a brow and smiled.
“As you wish.” Izbor took a deep breath as he was taken from the tent, the terrified looks of anguish on those few survivors faces were almost too much to bear. Looming over him, an enforcer with a string of bloody ears around his neck smiled at him, showing off his sharpened teeth before he roughly cut the bonds that held his arms in front of him.
“Right.” Said Izbor flexing his fingers trying to work circulation back into them.
“The deed Izbor.” Rumbled Kulidite, crossing his arms across his chest. Izbor sighed heavily and looked from face to face; six of the enforcers had stayed behind to guard the prisoners, six more of them stood around their pa
WH40K Chooser of the Dying: pt5Following the trail of the Lupradon that one of the hunters with Jessik had identified as ‘Harna til Krunj’ Heart of Stones, they slowly approached The Muel after hours of constant travel.
“Boss, I don’t like the look of this place.” Whispered Vyacheslav clutching the stock of his autogun in a white knuckled grip. Izbor for once was in complete agreement with the young pilot; the Muel was unlike anything he’d expected. Under the mindboggling boughs of the Sky Trees there was no sunlight, nor grass or any growing thing, only cold grey stone from tens of thousands of years of petrified debris falling from above. Gravel crunched under foot as they approached truly mammoth tangles of fallen branches and limbs each one the equal to any tree in the Niliesian forests.
“Nobody comes here unless they hunt the Lupradon, places like these are the ‘Culdnd Grahond’ the Dying Grounds.” Said Vanik in a hushed voice, his face was grim and his
WH40K Chooser of the Dying: pt4Slowly the other hunters and a very rattled Lars converged on the gigantic beast laying slumped on the rise.
“Throne boss, look at the size of it!” exclaimed Lars excitedly, having been on the other side of the branch he’d not seen a single thing of the worm, or of the final shots, but he’d heard everything and come close to breaking.
“What were those things?” demanded Izbor ignoring his crewman as he finally regained his ability to speak after such a close call. Vanik nodded understanding and grinned widely showing those sharp white teeth.
“A boreworm and that which preys upon it. It’s a sign we’re close to The Muel.”
“Things grow large around the Sky Trees.” Affirmed a smiling Jessik striding up to them sizing up the dead grox with an approving expression. “Father will be very pleased; it’s a good kill Mr. Volkov.”
“That it is.” Agreed Izbor placing a hand over his heart.
WH40K Chooser of the Dying: pt3Celebrations continued until long after the distant blue sun vanished behind the monolithic Sky Trees. Darkness like nothing Izbor had seen outside of the void closed in around the camp held back only by torches and the constant glare of search lights from the four sentinels constantly patrolling the circumference of the camp. Darkness however did not dampen the festivity, there were contests of strength and wits, young hunters vied to outshoot one another in displays of impressive marksmanship. Dancing continued and music was everywhere as well as food and drink, Izbor never saw a face that was not smiling or laughing and eventually even he felt himself relax as his opinion of the clansmen grew and grew.
Jessik, who as he came to learn was a sergeant in the PDF, something her father was vastly proud of, finally told her story in a rich strong voice. She and a dozen other troopers, all clansmen of Daruk or blood brothers from Mill City raided the neighboring clan taking furs, weapons,
WH40K Chooser of the Dying: pt1Izbor Volkov Eisenhauer Captain of the Rogue Trader ‘Sky of Night’ grit his teeth and gripped his restraints hard as his personal lander bucked and heaved through the heavy Niliesian atmosphere. Despite the rough ride he had to admit, the view was breathtaking. Still in the stratosphere he watched from the copilot’s seat as they soared between the tops of gargantuan petrified sky trees. Below mountainous clouds bathed in soft pastel blues by the rays of the sun shining through the unique blend of gasses in the atmosphere cast enormous shadows across the endless azure forests of smaller but no less impressive trees that stretched their jagged boughs towards the heavens.
“We’ve been cleared to land Captain!” shouted Vyacheslav from the pilot’s seat beside him, even over the vox in their flight helmets; he could barely be heard over the rattling thunder of the struggling engines.
“Very good, get us down in one piece.” He replied stoica
WH40K Chooser of the Dying: pt2Stepping into the forest was like stepping into another world entirely. Light struggled to pierce the dense canopy overhead creating dancing shadows that were as dark and bottomless as pits, the temperature was cooler by several degrees but the air was closer, invasively so, bringing with it a hundred subtle sounds and smells that positively made the hair on the back of Izbors' neck stand on end.
“Nervous boss?” inquired Vyacheslav. Izbor felt an ugly flash of irritation and leveled a chilly stare at the young pilot before tromping off through the loamy forest after their guide who had proceeded ahead.
“What’d I say?” blustered a perplexed Vyacheslav.
“You ought to know better.” Muttered Lars under his breath.
“Both of you shut up, if either of you had the good sense the Emperor gave a stone you’d know there’s a thousand Throne forsaken things just out of sight waiting to eat you, if Izbor has the good sense to be nervous then
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