Warhammer: Adventures Of The Two

985.M41: Planet Carkas

Eldar Firebase

I sighed as the blade pressed against my throat, enough so that I could feel it, but not hard enough to cut into the skin. I let go of my lasgun and slowly put both hands in the air before I spoke. The clatter of my weaponed was echoed by my men all seeing and copying my actions. Good. I didn't need anyone else dead on my watch.

"I know you're not exactly the trusting type, but I would appreciate it if you didn't try to kill us two seconds after we saved you?" I asked rhetorically to the Eldar behind me.

"You will remain silent Mon'keigh. You may have assisted us, but you are in no position to bargain." She ordered, no hint of emotion in her voice. Not even arrogance, which actually surprised me.

I rolled my eyes as I kept my mouth shut. There seemed to be some kind of conversation going on behind in moonspeak, most likely an argument given the tone and volume. If I were to guess, my team and I were the subjects of debate.

"Can you at least turn me around so that I can see what your superiors are arguing about?" I asked, the irritation in my voice only increased by the pain in my shoulder, only dulled by 40k's morphine equivilant.

The Eldar growled, pressing her blade against my throat hard enough that in cut into my skin, a trickle of blood starting to flow down my neck. Ah, there's the arrogance they're known for. I decided to refrain from asking any more questions for the time being. Fortunately for me, the argument seemed to calm down a bit and footsteps started to move towards me.

An Eldar moved towards me and said something to the Eldar holding the sword against my throat. Whatever it was seemed to agitate her, as she yelled back in moonspeak, having another short argument before the sword finally came off my neck and I was set free.

My hand instantly went to rub my neck and wipe the blood off, before I turned around to look at who had come to my rescue. The Eldar was definitely a farseer if his choice of clothing was anything to go by. Not to mention the staff he held which gave off a blue glow.

Which is why it surprised me when he spoke to me directly "Michael Eden, It is good to finally meet you." He said in a remarkably polite tone.

I raised glared at him, before glancing around at my remaining men. Of the thirty I had dropped with, only twelve were left, all of which were in states of severe apprehension. I suppose no one was all that happy with our current situation. At least all of them simply had their hands behind their heads with several Eldar having guns trained on them instead of having a sword at their necks.

Turning back to the Farseer, I spoke in the calmest voice I could: "Why!? Just. Why!? We just saved your collective behinds! Now you're holding me and my men at gunpoint!?" I yelled.

The farseer's eyes widened in what I could only assume was a surprise at me yelling at him. That assumption turned to confusion as he looked around at the Humans and Eldar around him before yelling at the Eldar in more moonspeak, all of whom soon lowered their weapons, though still kept their bodies obviously tense.

I blinked in surprise, taking in the situation. The Eldar Farseer had just ordered his men to stand down. He had done so frantically after realizing that my men were being held captive… was that emotion behind his eyes fear of all things!?

"So… I guess you've seen some kind of future where I kick your collective shiny heads in if you kill my men?" I ask him, slightly confused myself, "Also, how do you know my name?" I asked as I registered his first statement.

He sighed in exasperation before turning back to me, "You would be surprised how… accurate, your statement was. As for how I know who you are, I have had more than one vision where you are present. Even the conversation we are having now." he explained.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose in exasperation, "Alright, what kind of prophecy am I involved in?" I asked.

The Farseer smiled, "You, Michael, are destined to-" a loud, girlish scream cut him off as someone flew over the mound of Ork corpses and landed between us. This person was Jarod.

Jarod g.r.o.a.n.e.d as he lifted himself off the ground, "Ohhhh… my freaking head… and that's why you don't fly with psyker powers." most of the Eldar seemed stunned at Jarod's arrival, and even the Farseer seemed surprised.

He quickly recovers, however, and addresses Jarod in a similar way, "Ah, Jarod Carolinus Rober-"

"Just quit with the nonsense and tell me why we're not trying to kill each other…" Jarod said cynically.

The Farseer seemed stunned, not expecting our flippant attitudes or gestures. He sighed in exasperation, clearly not being prepared for our nonsense.

"Clearly my visions did not reveal your more… eccentric tendencies. In any case, I believe I should introduce myself. I am Elirom, Farseer of the craftworld Aurorum-III. The two of you are to take part in one of the most extensive events in the history of the galaxy." He explained, still trying to retain the upright and pious attitude.

"Ok, first off, we figured as much. Second, you didn't answer our questions." I told him matter-of-factly.

Elirom's eye twitched, "I… suppose you are correct. We are not trying to kill you because if we did so, it would only end with the slaughter of every Aeldari here. I would rather not have my soul sent to she-who-thirsts thank you very much." He explained in an agitated tone.

Both me and Jarod raised an eyebrow, not necessarily confused at the notion, more surprised at how candid the Eldar was.

"Alright, so we've established that you crossing us is a bad idea and that we're part of some grand plan of the Eldar pantheon," Jarod summarized, looking to Elirom who nodded, "So what exactly is that grand plan, and how do we fit in it?"

"The tides of chaos are moving, and you will be at the eye of the storm. You will decide the fate of the galaxy, whether that be in favor of the Aeldari, the Imperium, or even Chaos itself will be solely your decision." He explained.

Jarod sighed. It was a very depressed sigh. "So… You're saying that the fate of the galaxy rests in our hands…"

Elirom nodded hesitantly.

The two of us, in tandem, said: "Crap."

[-----]

Calivar was a complicated space marine, that much could be said with little doubt, but when Jarod and Michael explained that a large number of Eldar would be going with them back to the ship? He felt that his existence was a good bit less complicated than those two. Though considering how closely he was involved with them, he felt that his life may yet get even more complicated.

"And you are sure they will not try to kill us in our sleep?" Calivar asked inquisitively.

"Yes." Jarod said in a lamenting tone, "They won't even attempt it either. According to their Farseer, Michael and I are part of the End Times…"

This caused Calivar's brow to raise, "The End Times?" He asked.

"The Last War, the Wolf Time, The Last Battle, The Hunting. There's not much more to it, it's just the final battle to decide the fate of the galaxy." He explained.

Calivar frowned as he looked towards the Eldar walking about the cargo bay. The Xenos had elected to stay there, for the time being, allowing them to keep their distance from the rest of the crew. Calivar would have been fine with that, were it not for the amount of time that he spent in the cargo bay himself.

"And there was nowhere else they could have stayed? In the medical ward perhaps?" He suggested.

Jarod merely rolled his eyes, "No, there really isn't. We offered to give them their own quarters, but they insisted on having a place like this to themselves. Just keep your chaos nonsense out of their way and you should be fine." he said with a shrug.

Calivar shifted uncomfortably. Jarods words should have sent him flying into a rage. How dare he disrespect his god? And yet he could not find it in himself to feel any negative emotion towards him, much less a berserker rage.

Then there was the matter of the Emperor.

When Calivar followed Alius away from his chapter and towards Chaos, he had been certain it was the best option. He had been convinced the power of chaos would allow him to fix humanity. And yet, Alius was dead now, and the worshippers of the Emperor stood against the horrors of the warp. He had even picked up praying for the Emperor's guidance himself, though still remaining loyal to Khorne first and the Imperium second.

He wasn't even sure if Jarod or Michael even worshipped the Emperor themselves, as they never appeared at the sermons led by the more religious-minded -- of course, neither did he, but there were obvious reasons for that -- and they never uttered prayers to him. Not to mention the fact that they were willingly consorting with Xenos.

Letting out a sigh, Calivar turned to head back to his personal quarters. He had much to think about after all.

In the hall there, however, he saw Alaric standing in the hall looking at the map of the ship. He did not have his helmet on, so Calivar could see that he really wasn't looking at the map. He seemed deep in thought, his eyes glazed over as if the world around him simply didn't exist.

"Alaric. Are you alright?" He asked.

Alaric jumped slightly -- well, the space marine equivalent anyway -- at being startled out of his trance. He turned to Alaric, a frown clear on his face.

"No. No, I am not. When I left my deathwatch squadron and turned my back on the Imperium at large, I prepared myself to deal with anything. Be they Xenos, Heretics, Daemons, or whatever else the universe might throw at me," He shook his head and sighed, "But this? This may be too much even for me."

Calivar nodded in understanding, "I assume you are aware of the Eldar's prophecy involving the two?" Alaric nodded, "Then you should be aware that there is little we ourselves can do. In my experience, the Eldar are rarely wrong in their predictions, and the only times that they are wrong is when their prophecies have been denied by a determined force."

Alaric sighed, but nodded in acknowledgment, "It is simply not what I had envisioned for myself. I had thought that I might fall to the whims of chaos-" Calivar snorted amusedly, "-or that I might find myself fighting the Imperium to protect its own people. Being part of an Eldar prophecy was not on my list of things to prepare for."

[-----]

Michael sat on his bed staring up at the ceiling, a frown coating his face. He closed his eyes to try and get some sleep, only to growl and get up to pace for a few minutes. Jarod did not appreciate his friend's unease.

"Will you calm down and get some sleep?" Jarod called out from his bunk, looking toward Michaels back.

When he turned around, Jarod was surprised at the exhaustion Michael had in his eyes. It wasn't the physical kind of exhaustion, the fact only proved further when Jarod reached out with his psyche to brush up against his friend's mind. Michael's mind was a mess of emotions, none of them positive.

"Michael? Are you ok?" Jarod asked worriedly. He could tell Michael wasn't, with or without his abilities as a psyker.

Michael sighed, walking back to his bunk and sitting down, "No, no I'm not 'ok'." He began, "Over half my men ended up dead today Jarod. Eighteen real people. They had names, lives, families! And now they've been reduced to corpses that we can't even find! And me!? I got out with a piece of shrapnel in my arm that didn't even have any real effect!"

"I mean, I got out without a scratch compared to some of them!" He yelled, "Johan lost an arm, Philip probably won't ever walk again, and I get out with a 'good job' from the captain of the ship!"

Jarod looked at his friend, seeing his emotional state collapse in front of him. Tears were trailing down Michael's cheeks, and he looked like he would collapse at any second. When he finished his rant, Michael slammed his fist into the wall, a loud crack sounded, quickly followed by a spout of colorful language.

When the pain in his hand seemed to mellow out, he spoke again, "This isn't a video game Jarod. That piece of shrapnel? That hurt like hell. It burned, worse than anything I've ever felt before. I could barely move my arm for a good few minutes, and when I did, it hurt. We don't get any extra lives, we don't get any revives, we don't get any second chances." He sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair, "And I don't even know how I managed to hold it together in front of that Farseer. Shock maybe, I don't know."

"The worst part is I know it's not my fault! We're facing the worst monsters the galaxy has to offer. Casualties are not something people consider after the fact, they're planned. Imperial commanders plan to have five, ten, twenty percent casualties, hell I planned on there being casualties! And yet here I am! Balling my eyes out!"

Jarod got up walked over to his friend, putting his hands on his shoulders awkwardly. The height difference was obvious, Michael standing a half-foot taller than the psyker.

"Michael. Right now, you're going through a mental breakdown. Your mind is wondering 'maybe if I moved quicker' or 'if I paid more attention', that maybe more of them would be alive. And maybe that's true, but I know you. You gave it your all, you didn't do things halfway and you did the best you could. You need your emotional mind to accept that. Besides, If you- HURK!"

Jarod never got to finish his speech as Michael's arms wrapped around him, the air inside Jarod's lungs deciding to move out and start a family. Maybe get married, have a few kids, the works.

In any case, the bro-hug didn't last long as Michael finally let Jarod breath, "Michael… please don't do that… again…" Jarod said between heaves.

Michael chuckled, wiping a tear off his face, "I know your not much of a hug person, but that helped more than you might realize." He remarked.

Jarod smiled, patting Michael on the shoulder, "Next time, don't crush my ribcage."