Board Thread:Warhammer 40k Roleplay/@comment-14745711-20140421011632/@comment-14745711-20140512103404

OOC: not sure where you are in relation to me Talik. My forces are fighting with a handful of Eldar at an outpost on Gronuda. And do you guys know something, it's been about a year since the Hive Fleet Levithan RP began, and about ten months since Thelician had its prep thread started. It's hard to believe its been so long since the beginning. My own start was about 9 months back and I never expected to stay so long. :D this place is brilliant. Now, enough sentimentality, back to the slaughter!

IC: the settlement is now gripped with chaos, and many of the soldiers have retreated to safer places, from whence they scour the canoptekh guardian with heavy fire, but it seems to have no effect. "Courage, courage. Acting with fear," Xerex is muttering to himself. He has taken cover behind a high wall (well it used to be high) wall. Suddenly the guardian smashed the wall apart and loomed over him. Xerex blasted at the machine's head, but his attacks were in vain. His body was smashed into the crumbling structure, and before his self repair systems can activate fully, the roof above him collapses and buries him under rubble.

Suddenly Xerex could see blackness, pulsing through his vision, and finally he saw what awaited him beyond death now. Emptiness, nothingness and total oblivion. And then, he felt reluctance, reluctance to die, which turned to a desire to live, which turned finally to fear. Fear. Something he ought not to be able to feel but something he felt none the less. Breifly Xerex felt contact with something he thought he would never find again: his soul. Memories cascaded over him; fear, love, hate, passion, revenge, joy, and for the first time ever, the necron could comprehend himself. Trapped in a feeling less metal skeleton. He screamed.

All this took place in a matter of moments, and when he was pulled from the wreckage by the guardian, he was screeching at the top of his mechanical lungs. It was a sound horrible to hear, and even the necrons did their best to tune it out. Finally, Xerex looked straight into the eyes (there being far more than two) and made his choice. He could either give up the relic and have a chance at escaping from the black oblivion, or, he could fight it, and try to win this relic for the one to whom he had pledged his allegiance, the one he and many other nobles of the court had grown up with. Dagorekh was more to him than a figure head, he was a friend. Xerex made his choice, and it was hard, painfully so.