Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

"There was a gunshot in the darkness, and the wheel of fate moved slowly. Perhaps it was a man-made hint, the shadow of a long-term plan..."

The troupe leader's singing floated like cobwebs in the hall that was already in chaos. The originally wide hall became narrow due to the interplay of guns and knives. Light and shadow collided and confused in the limited space. The noise quickly filled the entire banquet hall. Everything leads to swelling chaos.

Conrad Curze, the attacked Haemonculus, chuckled and charged into the crowd, killing anyone he thought was guilty enough - which meant that he was killing anyone who came within range of his blade. The Eldar within.

"What's going on!" Perturabo shouted behind the Primarch who suddenly entered the crowd.

Although he had no good impressions of the Eldar, he watched his blood relative rush directly into the crowd of attendees without saying a word, using his sharp claws and hands with extraordinary grip strength, as well as the extremely sophisticated art of assassination, to easily and happily stir up a flurry of chaos. A bloody whirlwind of screams, his mechanical heart was once again shocked deep into the transformers and energy conversion pumps.

"They are guilty, Val!" Bloodhand Kane's roar was like a roaring storm, "Children of Isa! Are there any righteous people in this city?"

The Huayi Spirit Tribe slowly revealed their song in unaccompanied silence, cold and deep, opening with a subtle, trembling prelude. Its melody was circuitous, and the melody quietly penetrated into the hustle and bustle of the banquet hall, just like the sound of a winter night. The cold wind blew through many corners.

"The drama was suddenly interrupted. Our warning had already been conveyed. Kane's anger was so great that he urgently needed to be appeased..."

The horn of war sounded, and the Haemonculi danced in the dark hall, with their hands covered in blood, just like the origin of the word Bloodhand Kane.

When the first flying knife that resisted Curze's killing accidentally injured another noble on the side, the situation was completely out of control. No matter how the host tried to dissuade him, the Eldar had begun to take advantage of this opportunity to attack and eliminate themselves for many years. opponent. The hall descended into a frenzy of confusion.

The roar of war drums rolled in the dark air, and the murders and bloodshed that were usually hidden deep in the capital were suddenly brought into the hall by the Blood Marquis.

Warriors and slaves brandished their weapons and charged at each other or the nobles, while the troupe gave their best accompaniment: a symphony of iron and fire clashed violently in the air, the crisp sound of swords clashing and the shrill roar mingling into an eerie syncopation. Major keys, and even the neighing of war horses, are simulated by the rapid bowing of the strings.

"The play on the stage must continue to be performed despite setbacks. The actors carry the dark fear and continue their journey. Until the moment of curtain call comes, everything can be peaceful!"

The Avatar shouted with wild laughter, fulfilling the threat they had sent as a warning. Color-blocked shadows of red, blue, yellow and black accompany the Haemonculi, looking for and killing anyone who interferes with the performance - again, this means almost everyone.

The flower-clad spirit tribe stepped on the blood of their blood relatives with the tips of their shoes, jumped up on the table, and stepped lightly on the silver dinner plate and the corpse's head lying on the table, moving around like a shadow in a dream. In the richer atmosphere of psychedelic gas, the mask of the ghoul emerges in the dark murderous intention, bringing about deepening fear and a dance in the dark night. The clown of death dressed in black and carrying a heavy gun steps on the shoulders of the dead, harvesting pain and bringing death.

And Perturabo has begun to carry various flying debris and crystals, looking for a way out of this terrifying chaos.

The outbreak of all chaos baffled the Primarch, who grew up in a well-established and conventional society. His strange brother, who was still unknown but recognized him, was obviously aroused to the greatest excitement by the blood. .

He sincerely believed that he should withdraw from the chaos and preserve himself, and then consider formally getting acquainted with the new brother again, and determine what kind of environment he was in, how to find the lost Morse, and finally return to the empire, etc. wait.

"On the ever-changing stage, every turn is of profound significance; until the final curtain is revealed, the mystery can be solved." A new voice was soft and cold, traveling through the entire banquet hall, bringing a sense of final destiny. omen.

Perturabo immediately stopped and looked for the source of the sound.

The powerful storm was like a shrill scream, suddenly exploding in the center of the banquet hall, and immediately broke into thousands of broken blades, cutting into the snow-white skin of all the Eldar present who had not seen the light of day for a long time. Blood and pain overflowed on the surface of the hot skin, accompanied by heartbreaking panic and extreme fear.

A man in black robe floats in the center of the hall, leaning on a purple and gold throne covered with deep purple gauze curtains. A piece of exquisite tulle is draped over his shoulders. Mist fills the surroundings, and the sound of blood dripping into the pool is emptied. The ground resounded heavily.

His left hand held the face wearing a strange cold white mask, and his right hand casually threw out some bloody gold sand, clear crystals, and even poisonous crystal bullets and fragments of shurikens, as a reward for all depravity and chaos.

The most frightening thing is that in the body of the actor, any Eldar can feel the familiar feeling, as if the pain of being deprived and mutilated occurred when the crisis passed through the skin decades ago. Above war, above death, a thousandth note of the true source of fear for the Eldar is imitated here.

"At the peak of prosperity, in the hour of glory, the roots of corruption are secretly conceived." The man playing the role of the Thirsty sings softly, elongating his words, "Fall comes like a shadow, and with it comes the curse, which brings longing, and longing grows. …”

The Pied Eldar reunited, reenacting their battles and defeats with the Thirsty Ones, whimpering and throwing down their blades to fall into false death. Light dust swirled in the air, its power shattering into colorful reflections. The purple-gold light carved mysterious marks on the foreheads of too many people at the banquet, and the strange and morbid colors stripped lives from their bodies - the occurrence of these deaths was extremely real.

Perturabo wanted to step forward, and then he heard a familiar psychic energy touching his consciousness. He adjusted his overly excited mood and accepted it calmly.

+Wait, Perturabo. This show is coming to an end. +

Bathed in blood, the Blood Demon suddenly felt an unknown force pulling him up from the corpse and blood. He struggled for a while, unable to resist Wuyuan's magic, so he gave up immediately and floated like a statue. in front of the person.

"Bloody Kane..." the actor pinched his voice and chuckled softly, "You belong to us, God of War."

Konrad Kurtz responded with a sharp claw attack. His attack was stopped an inch away from the actor. He was thrown and fell backwards. The blood on his body quickly solidified into scarlet ice crystals, and then fell back. It shattered in its solid state into thousands of remaining fragments.

Perturabo caught the fallen Konrad Curze and was about to ask the Primarch, who was still immersed in the afterglow of killing, some questions when he saw him raising his fingers at his mouth and observing the last words intently. The performer makes unspeakable gestures.

"Darkness and depravity coexist. From now on, it will all be a midnight dream. You will face eternal torture in the blackest sin."

After a long period of darkness and silence, the smoke covering the entire hall slowly faded away, leaving behind silent corpses.

The man in black robes fell to the ground, threw away the mask on his lower body, and walked towards the two Primarchs. Behind him, the fallen Eldars crawled out of the corpses one by one, somersaulting and holding hands, flexibly lining up in a row.

"Perturabo," said the man in black, "Conrad Curze. Friends, hold hands and bow together. It is time for the curtain call, even if there is no one left alive to appreciate it."

"Oh, there's one more." Coze suddenly said.

Outside the hall, an Eldar dressed as a Haemon servant came back into the room carrying a poison crystal rifle and bowed deeply.

"An extremely wonderful play, the Gospel from Midnight. I would very much like to see this play repeated in the society of the Dark Eldar again. By the way, I am Asdubar Victor, dear friends."

"Well done, first shot tonight." Coze said leisurely.