+18 Chapter 7:

AN: Reader discretion is advised, there is a reason I put the horror tag in and in this chapter you are about to find out one of the reasons why. There will be more to come. To those who are familiar with my writing you know that the first few chapters of about 14-20k or so words of my stories are a prologue establishing character relations and motivations. We're now in an integral part of the prologue and I have decided to be quite graphic to make a point.

I do not apologize for it. This is your only warning, I will not provide more unless staff demands that I do.

Chapter 7: Obscenity is the bastard child of Dedication, none wish to know its father



Eldar are a naturally psychic race, the boons of the Old Ones made it apparent that the Eldar were if not the mightiest psychic species to ever draw mortal breath, we were still the greatest left standing.

We did not develop physical speech despite having the means to do so until we have been striding across the stars for many millennia. We had no need for it as we could converse among ourselves with our minds for as long as we have been aware of.

Despite that, physical language did develop, but not out of a need for speech like most sane species did develop theirs from, but because we wanted to sing.

Each word is a concept, each syllable emotion, each sound something we knew of but other species lacked the means to articulate. There are 500 different words, none having anything in common with each other, to describe the phenomenon my former species associated with the word flame in our most common tongue.

To learn to speak in the simplest of sentences would require others the same effort involved in learning 5 different languages of five different species at the same time. For most Eldar this is a sign of our superiority over all other forms of life.

For me it is an annoyance I could do without, especially when multiple song languages have developed since then and according to what we have learned, one would be considered incult if they did not speak at least 7 of them.

The common tongue was the oldest and simplest of the song languages in circulation, no wordsmith daring to make something easier to learn lest they be labeled as lacking in ability and mocked by their peers.

I had done it though, I have created a simplified form of speech created by butchering the common Eldar tongue and its 8.3 billion words into a beautifully efficient contraption of only 300,000. It is a battle-tongue meant to be spoken by me and my siblings and perhaps any companion we might pick once we leave this world. Learning it would take an Eldar days if not weeks of light study as opposed to the 50 years of constant study to achieve proficiency, years which we did not bother with, instead achieving a middling level of proficiency most Eldar assigned to their 8th​ language.

If any of the wordsmiths that had spent centuries creating their own monstrosities they call language were to become aware of my dark deed they would flay my soul for 100 lifetimes, mocking my creativity every second of it and they would take turns doing it, each subjecting my soul to this treatment until there were none left to do it to me.

It is this type of mentality that built the city before me.

The Orphanage in my old life would have been called a monument to beauty, kindness and serenity. It was built to provide a serene and welcoming environment to homeless children that had been left without a family to look after them. Each centimeter of it was build with care and love for those that would sleep within its halls, eat in the rooms or play in its gardens and pools. Its walkways were made to encourage community, its murals teaching lessons young children had no one left to learn from and speaking of stories that stand as the bedrock of many literary genres that most Eldar have abandoned and rediscovered a hundred time over since they were written on the walls of the Orphanage.

It was a dilapidated shack compared to the city in front of us.

Eldar do not build based on function, no this it seems had been relegated to 'lesser' species. Eldar build their buildings based on emotions. Each building in the city was built to represent a mix of emotions and concepts unique to the artisan that had built them.

Each was a song made on marble, Wraithbone, flowers and glass and together they said a story and said story was in the middle of being desecrated by its inhabitants.

We had used this story as a learning aide in our quest of proficiency with the Eldar common tongue.

Seeing it from afar, the story sang the ballad of a hero from birth to her death and her 70.432 years of life spoken in acute detail, each minute of her life recorded in song and terrifying detail.

We were unable to find any knowledge of the foes she had defeated outside of the song of the city.

The area of the south-south-east was chosen as our entry point on the 5th​ day of our trek, our targets changing their pattern of movement due to the foreign seers interference.

Plan 14 remained viable only because the location where targets 13 and 22 died did not matter, only the timing between the two. We needed them to move in a position where we would be able to get from one to another in two days.

Entering the city was done with little fanfare, at one point houses started to appear, separating the forest from city with their presence.

Target 13 was a normal looking Eldar man. He was bald, the only uncovered part of his body being his head. The rest of his naked body had been taken over by red and pink tattoos and despite wearing no clothes was somehow more presentable and dignified than the half the city that still bothered with actual clothing.

He was an outsider, coming from another world or Webway port 25 years ago, the most remarkable thing about him and reason for being chosen as target thirteen being his familial relation with targets 3, 7 and 40, each women, each his daughters and each a mother to another of the three, as well as target 22.

Our targets for plan 14 needed us to kill targets 13, 22, 38, 40 and 41 in that specific order.

Target 22 was target 13's mother, and also mother of target 3. She had come to this planet before her son. The entire family bar target 40 were not born on this world.

Target 22 was chosen for a simple reason, she was the favorite concubine of one of the sword cults. If she died the madmen would be guaranteed to go on another rampage when she failed to reach their favorite spot.

Target 13 needed to die so that target 22 would go and mourn his death like she did with that of her other children, by making another with his siblings. Each event where she would gather the materials for pregnancy would take two days and we needed to strike just as she finished and left, leaving her spawn in a pool of their own liquids.

Target 22 must die so she would miss the meeting and cause a violent event we could use as cover to kill target 40.

Target 38 needed to die because he liked to travel too much in the areas target 40 and 41 dwelt in and could spoof Maton sensors, we would have to kill him when he slept and the time-frame when he would do so was fast approaching. Him staying alive was too great a risk.

He did not sleep regular intervals, sometimes he would sleep days, sometimes hours.

Target 40 was the favorite plaything of an Alchemist, her dying would send her lover on a rampage where she would poison half the city again and this time go into conflict with the Sword-cult. This was our distraction as we made a run for it.

Target 41 lived in the house closest to the Webway gate, the road leading to it a spiral that passed through his house twenty-two times. He was the last obstacle between us and the Webway, we would not take the chance that he would live and follow us out of boredom.

We approached the area as target 22 continued to paint herself in the skin and blood of her still rutting progeny. There was no soul left in it, its bodily functions kept alive by the same body it had came from.

She was singing and we were forced to listen. We couldn't kill her until she had finished in order to maintain the plan.

"Where are you my son, the light of my life, the furnace that kept the engine that kept my love warm and my breast painfully full,"

She said and covered her breasts in the blood of her child.

"Where are you father of my child? Man who had kept the cold from touching my heart, whose love is the same as mine."

His heart beat inside her mouth, the song continued even as she chewed.

"Where are the days we danced together in the starlight, the days we swam under the warm face of the sun. Where is the soul who would be my moon?
Gone are they now, gone are the silent moments of joy, the kind whispers we would say to one another the only thing to remember you by, for you left alone among kine.
Where is my love and my sunshine?"

She said and danced, the phallus and balls of her partner detaching from his body and continuing to pump in her as did a pirouette.

"Why why why? Why did you have to lie?
Why gods oh why, why did my love have to die?"

Each of her steps done on the corpse of her son, each dance done perfectly as she never once stepped on the floor.

"To live and to die a gift given by the divine,
Pain and pleasure, love and and a grief a spice so sublime,"

The phallus changed holes as the dance continued, her naked body covered in the skin and blood of her partner. Blood splatter reached the ceiling.

We realized with horror that the man used to dance and sing as well before we arrived, two distinct footprints showing on the blood walls, roof and floor. The skin of his feet was still attached to the ceiling.

"Gone are you now, gone with little to remember you by,
You left, left me alone without a goodbye."

She turned and now stood on her own hands in one fluid movement, her legs in the air as fluids other than blood started dropping on the rest of her body as the dance continued.

"You went to where I cannot follow
You left me alone and hollow,
To face dreaded life without your warmth
With nothing else to restart my beating hearth." Were the last verses of the beautifully haunting song.

She ended the song her face facing the mutilated one of her son, skin and eyes looking at their own desecrated corpse. We could not see her face, is it love that showed on it? Sadness or grief?

She kissed it on the muscles that were once used to move the lips.

The skin and eyes fell back on their rightful place as the kiss ended. They did not look as if they were ever separated, the only hint being the fact that only the white of the eyes could be seen from above.

"My beautiful son, why did yo leave your poor mother alone?" The eldar woman wept as she started walking on her feet again and left the scene where she had killed one of her progeny while mourning another.

She died two hundred meters from where her song ended, my 3 siblings swords cutting her into pieces as two souls left her body. The phallus and balls of her son cut into pieces with her as well. We were not there when they reached the floor.

I never saw her face.

We decided to travel by rooftop from now on. It would take longer than it would otherwise do, as Eldar were prone to look up often, and down far less so, but we were too scared to travel on the ground floor anymore.

There's too many eldar there.


AN: I am not an artist or song composer but yes this was done by myself with no AI. Sorry for the shitty quality. I have provided the uninterrupted song sequence below.

"Where are you my son, the light of my life, the furnace that kept the engine that kept my love warm and my breast painfully full,
Where are you father of my child? Man who had kept the cold from touching my heart, whose love is the same as mine.
Where are the days we danced together in the starlight, the days we swam under the warm frace of the sun. Where is the soul who would be my moon?
Gone are they now, gone are the silent moments of joy, the kind whispers we would say to one another the only thing to remember you by, for you left alone among kine.
Where is my love and my sunshine?

Why why why? Why did you have to lie?
Why gods oh why, why did my love have to die?
To live and to die a gift given by the divine,
Pain and pleasure, love and and a grief a spice so sublime,
Gone are you now, gone with little to remember you by,
You left, left me alone without a goodbye.

You went to where I cannot follow
You left me alone and hollow,
To face dreaded life without your warmth
With nothing else to restart my beating hearth."