NIghtfall-As expected- the Cabalist, Exodite,Solitiare

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NIghtfall-As expected- the Cabalist, Exodite,Solitiare

Post by Konrad » Fri Jan 07, 2011 3:24 am

So as not to clutter up the forum with lots of little elfy posts. I'll just stick the rest of the "As expected" series of fluff together. That way MIJ will only have to write, "Noooooo.... Eldar didn't do that!" once. These scenes would act to introduce the sections dealing with each Faction (or "Gang" Warband, whatever).

Let's start with the scary hippies

The Scene
A dark portal opens and ushers in the Cabalist. Below it spreads an immense city of obsidian and neon. Temples, casinos, arenas and palaces spiral miles high and descend miles deep. The Cabalist wings its way to the center of this place and dives, down, down the intoxicating sounds and sights a blur as it descends to the heart. Its flesh melts into a form indescribable as it pours itself into machineries of bliss. Sensor hum, stimulators stroke its mind, intoxicants are distilled. Around it other beings are gathered, at a table of sorts. For this is a banquet, of sorts. They shriek in adulation, in worship at Its approach, the guest of honor.

Then all tremble in anticipation for the arrival of the host.

The Host- We so apologize for sending you on that predictable, unstimulating errand. But tell us, how did it feel?
The Cabalist- As you can imagine, tedious. The factions display their usual lack of imagination. They will still strive to hold our people back from the true Path. They hold on to the hollow, cloying masks of duty, intellect, and tradition. How I yearn to rip off those masks, burn them and dance on the coals!

The gathered throng, howl in agreement.

The Host- And so you shall, but not yet. The time is not ripe.
(pauses, now addressing its guests)
Look honored guests at my city. Smell the dreams, taste the nightmare, feel its living pulse. Most of our people regard it a circus, an amusement park, a place for distraction from their sleepy, comfortable lives. But in truth, it is a tool, a tool to open the Self to the Path of greater and greater Experience, greater and greater Desire. And Desire is the most powerful force in the universe. The only real force in the end, and we have given ourselves to it. In time our people will follow or…..
The Cabalist - Or?
The Host- They will be taken by it. All in good time. And it will be a good time.
The Cabalist- Until then?
The Host- Do what thou wilt. Let that be the extent of the Path.

continue with the Exodites

The Scene
Step onto the bridge of a graceful Eldar interstellar starship. From his craft’s observation balcony, the Exodite views his ship. The graceful lines of its hull, adorned with turrets and towers, sensor arrays and batteries of weapons. The miles of silvery sail catching starlight. His reverie is broken by a silent mental message. He steps off the balcony and drifts weightlessly through the air. A view screen materializes and surrounds him. The surrounding image is of a council, the members compose of everything from conseratively dressed technocrats their data stylus in hand, to barbarian chieftians, the horns of slain prey-beasts adorning their head dresses. This strange parliament is called to order, and the current chairman addressess the Exodite.

The Chairman- Thank you Captain for answering this Council’s summons. Our people say the results of the meeting were as inconclusive as we thought they’d be. Do you have anything to add?

The Exodite- No suprises. We can’t expect any change from the home worlds. They are all split into faction, and each faction expects us to bow to their rules and laws. None will admit they need the raw resources we can supply, and so refuse to trade the technological items we need in turn. When we terraform a world, or engineer a useful species, or discover a new application for our technology they say we are moving too fast and risk unbalancing the Path. When we explore a new system, pioneer new worlds they fear we will stir up some ancient power, or our settlers will descend into savagery in their isolation.
Be it beguiled by Cabalist pleasures, befuddled by Harlequin riddles, controlled by Seer thought police, or simply trapped under the iron fist of the Autarchs, our people in the home worlds will be denied the freedom to follow the Path.
Speaking frankly, we should declare our territories independent and take what comes.

The Chairman My sympathies are all with you Captain. But the reality is this. While we who have chosen the frontier are united in principle, we are independent in practice. Any motley confederation we could cobble together can’t hope to win any sort of open conflict. To declare independence, to refute the rule of the home worlds would unite the factions against us more surely than anything else could unite them.
But we have, and will continue to resist. They call us outlaws, renegades, pirates and worse, but they must eventually realize that you can oppose liberty for so long. The Path demands Freedom. And the enemies of Freedom will pay a high price for their tyranny.

And end with the Solitaire, as he who laughs last laughs best

The Scene
Observe closely, an obviously empty stage in an obviously empty theater. A spotlight snaps on, illuminating the Solitaire standing in what was obviously empty air a moment before.
The Solitaire- (bows deeply to the abundant emptiness and speaks)
Throughout the theatre, garish figures flicker into existence. There is panoply of color, noise, music and ….laughter. Then they are gone as suddenly as they appeared, leaving the Solitaire alone with an audience of shadows.

That was, while brilliant :D , a bit unsatisfactory an explanation. I wrote the next bit some time afterwards to actually try and illustrate just what the heck the Harlequins might be all about.

Mirror, Mirror in the Hall
The Scene
We enter the twisting confusion of a hall of mirrors. From the smooth surface of one, an arm emerges. It reaches back, and fishes around for something beneath the surface. Enter the Solitaire apparently pulling himself through the mirror by his own hood, much as a magician might pull a rabbit out of a hat by its ears.
He lightly steps down out of the mirror, speaking to an audience unseen.

Today, I’m looking for my Enemy. I’m quite sure he’s hiding behind one of these mirrors. He is quite clever and won’t show his face. Not that I hold it against him. It’s only fair after all, as I don’t show him mine.

(He turns to look into a brazen mirror; its smoky depths glow bloodily. Reflected in it is not the jaunty figure of the Solitaire, but a titanic armored sentinel. Its blade drawn, trophies and corpses of fallen foes lie at its feet. In its heavy armored gauntlet it grasps burning worlds as a child would hold a handful of marbles. In the background legions of soldiers mechanically march, flattening, silencing, imprisoning, executing all in their path. )

Well, hardly original. We’ve seen the great dictator before and dealt with him, we may have to do so again.

(He skips to the next mirror and regards the cold, clear, perfect glass. In it we see a trio of cold, clear, perfect beings. Through their hands run glowing threads. Threads of Life: Threads of Thought: of Destiny. Worlds glisten like drops of dew on the web they weave, this flawless web of Fate. In it the future is not merely predicted, it is crystallized into perfect certainty. )

But why is it even though they can see into the future, they can never guess the punch lines to my jokes? It must be for the same reason there is no Laughter in their perfect world.

[i](He peers into the next. At first nothing can be seen beneath its oily night black surface. Then a face emerges, and another and another, their expressions one of mindless rapture. They then turn to each other, on each other, lips hungrily seeking, mouths caress, and then, devour. All spiral, down, down, drawn down into a bottomless, endless, abyss of need. )[/i]
And you, you greedy thing, you’d just suck everything up into your Self. Just because if feels so good.

(Next, in a roughly painted disk, a young, unwashed, nearly unclothed Eldar sprints through an arboreal glen. A bloody carcass slung over one of her shoulders, hunting beasts flap at her side. Through the trees we see a graceful wraithbone tower, perhaps a communication antenea. Now obviously defunct, it’s spires are garlanded with crude pagan ornament . Ringing the graceful architecture like so many mushrooms, a collection of stone huts, a rude settlement. The hunter runs to the center, howling with joy, other muddy inhabitants exit their crude dwellings to join in the dance.

And just what do you think we’ll find by losing ourselves out in the wasteland of the void? What will we gain by scattering ourselves into the abyss.

(And at last comes to a simple mirror, in which he casts a simple reflection.)

And you, the prime meddler in these affairs, don’t think I’ve forgotten about you.

(The Reflection takes a step back, and replies in mock confusion.)

Me? How could I be dangerous?

(From far above, the sound of explosions, the mirrors shake, the images within seeming to quiver with fear.)

Knock, knock. Who’s there? Here I go looking for him, and he comes and finds me. How ironic. But what mask is he wearing today?
(The sounds of destruction draw closer. Down the hall there is a staccato of shattering glass, and the licking flames are reflected down the length of the hall. )

Well, perhaps a question for a later time. Thank you folks, you’ve been a great audience. In the event of an emergency, please leave the theater in an orderly manner by the nearest exit.

(From the mirror, the Reflection groans)
Terrible. With material like that, small wonder people are trying to kill us.”

(The Solitaire shrugs)
Everyone’s a critic.

(The Solitaire reaches out to the mirror, clasps hands with his twin reflected there. He steps in, and out and is gone. The flames, now an inferno roar down the hall, glass cracks, melts, shatters.)
...and now his Head was full of nothing but Inchantments, Quarrels, Battles, Challenges, Wounds, Complaints, Amours, and abundance of Stuff and Impossibilities.....
Cervantes, Don Quixote

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Re: NIghtfall-As expected- the Cabalist, Exodite,Solitiare

Post by Primarch » Thu Jan 13, 2011 10:57 pm

Sorry it took so long to get round to reading this, but as with the others, I enjoyed it. Very well written. I particularly like the Solitiare story.

I'm eagerly awaiting the next stage in your little project.
Painted Minis in 2014: 510, in 2015: 300,
in 2016 :369, in 2019: 417.

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