Daughters of Mythariel

Again, the pair exchanged sidelong glances. Aelinors eyebrows raised to ask if Rishaeron had heard of the stricken Craftworld, and a small shake of his head confirmed that he had not heard of Mythariel either.

A pang of guilt struck at Aelinors heart. If Ulthwé suffered a fate like Vaeryn's world, she was not sure she would be able to go on, but here she was drinking dreadful rum and playing adventurer in a Corsair space port. It was selfish of her to put her personal needs above the Craftworlds and she sat gazing into her cup as she continued to ruminate. The Ranger caught the downcast look on his friends face and took the reigns of the conversation. He fetched another Wraithbone cup from his pack and poured from the bottle, handing it to Vaeryn with a nod.

"My condolences, Cousin, thats a tragedy. My friend and I are not Corsairs, nor are we mercenaries, but we're loathe to not assist a Craftworld in need. I was an agent of the Seer Council until..." He raised his own cup in a Wraithbone arm that replaced a missing forearm, embellished beautifully in artful designs of impressive craftsmanship.

"My friend here is a Farseer on sabbatical, of sorts." Aelinors green eyes finally flicked from her drink to Vaeryn, two perfect emeralds set in the uncertain face of one still finding her place in the universe.

"I feel you're here with a proposal, Princess. Am I correct?" The Ranger continued with a confident smile.

Vaeryn accepted the cup and raised it in salute before taking a drink from it.

Vaeryn eyed the wraithbone arm with interest. 'Now that is an interesting work of artifice. How does it compare to your natural arm? Stronger I'm guessing.'

Vaeryn gave Aelinor a respectful nod. 'Well, after hearing your stories you could say I do have a proposal of sorts.' She smiled. 'But first I have a question, where are you two headed?'

'So long as we're not going in opposite directions, I wonder... would you sail aboard a Corsair ship? I think I could use you two in my crew. It would be a grand adventure!'

@dracite-aeril

A Corsair fleet had come to Rheivarath for resupply. The Corsairs had boasted of how they had beaten The Great Devourer to some priceless relics left on an abandoned Maiden World, and it showed, bio-plasma scars riddled their ships.

Aeril had been sent to talk to their leader, an enigmatic Corsair Princess named Vaeryn, and when she approached the Princess, who was in the middle of telling a bawdy story to some of her captains, Aeril had to blink a few times.

She looked remarkably like her Paramour.

She was thinner, perhaps taller, and her hair was shorter but, for a moment she had almost thought it was Skourna...

A Vengeous relative, perhaps? Aeril wondered, noting how similar Skourna’s relatives tended to look to her. In any case, now wouldn’t be the time to find out. Perhaps she could ask Skourna later.

“Princess Vaeryn?” Aeril asked as she strode up to the captains’ table, giving the group a respectful Anhrathe salute she’d recently learned. “My name is Aeril, First Dracite of the Shattered Fang and Captain of the Corsair vessel Javelin. It’s my pleasure to welcome you to Rheivarath.”

Skourna's potential relative was definitely the Princess she had been sent to meet with. As the Corsair Princess leaped up onto the table, and then strode across it before stepping down before Aeril. She was tall, even tall for an Aeldari.

She grinned and returned the salute.

'I am Princess Vaeryn of Craftworld Mythariel, and a member of the House of Vengeous.' She bowed, the various gemstones and baroque weapons hanging from her belt clinking audibly. 'Thank you for your kind words. Now I assume we are to discuss business?' She asked.

'My ships need repairs and resupply, and we are happy to provide our services to the cause in payment. Mythariel and her Corsair Daughters stand with the Ynnari, and have done for some time.' She smiled. 'Turns out it pays to have friends.'

“Rheivarath is always happy to assist our Ynnari Sisters of Mythariel,” Aeril said, returning the smile with a slight bow. “Our docks are not as robust or well-supplied as that of a Craftworld, but we will share what we can.”

She handed the much-taller princess a dataslate. “This is a supply manifest and resupply form. If you or one of your crew wouldn’t mind filling this out and giving it to the dockmaster of your assigned berth, we can start your repairs and restocks as soon as we can. Sorry for the bureaucracy, but it’s a necessary evil.”

Aeril briefly considered not discussing the Vengeous connection and keeping things purely professional, but decided it might not be a bad idea to try breaking the ice. “I’d thought you might be of House Vengeous,” she began, her tone a twinge awkward. “I’ve spent much time with the Black Hunt Vengeous branch, and you look quite a bit like your kin there.”

'Well, you mught be surprised at how well supplied Mythariel's docks can be.' Vaeryn snorted. 'Our once grand Craftworld has suffered greatly these past few millenia.'

Vaeryn eyed the dataslate briefly. Then whistled and tossed it to one of her lieutenants who caught it gracefully. 'I'll make sure we get the paperwork done swiftly. As you say it's an evil, but a necessary one.'

Vaeryn paused at that comment, she glanced at Aeril for a few moments before responding.

'You would be correct. I am of that great and widespread clan.' She said quietly. 'Ah, no wonder you noticed. You've been in the heart of the fat spiders web.' The way she said it implied Vaeryn meant it metaphorically. 'The House Matriarch likes to pull strings far from the Dark City. Even my parents would play her lip service if the family was ordered to gather. And I wonder... would I do the same?'

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Aeril said with a brief yet knowingly glance of empathy. “Supplies are so often short in violent times.”

“Indeed,” Aeril gave a curt nod.

She briefly wondered if Vaeryn calling Skourna a fat spider was meant as an insult, even if it was a metaphor. She very much wanted clarification so she could defend her beloved if need be… but it would be foolish to get into a spat with allies. Besides, she figured Skourna would rather enjoy the metaphor anyhow.

“Well… no matter how far her webs may weave, Lady Vengeous has proven a valued ally for the Rheivarathi Ynnari, even if she does not follow the Death God herself.” Aeril drew her sword, but in a slow, measured gesture that more than removed any implication of a threat. She held the dark, curved blade laterally on her hands.

“This is Dark Harmony,” Aeril stated with a hint of reverence, arms outstretching slightly to best show off the blade. “An old relic of the Dark Hunt Vengeous branch gifted to me by its Matriarch. It was wielded by a Vengeous Archon in ages past, most famously in when its owner single-handedly battled fifty assassins who were hunting her newborn heir. All fell, and the baby was not even awoken from its slumber.” She paused a moment to gaze upon the sword. “I’m honored beyond words to be its latest bearer.”

'And times have been violent for us since before the Mon'keigh fought their Great Crusade.' Vaeryn rolled her eyes. 'And I hate that I have to judge time by their calendar, it's the most accurate galactic wide one.' She grunted in annoyance.

'She, she what?' Vaeryn blinked in surprise. 'Since when has the leader of House Vengeous done anything other than spawn needless amounts of heirs and pretend the old Empire never fell? You're saying she helps the cause, even indirectly?'

'Ah, the blade of Miniris Vallaour Vengeous.' Vaeryn said as she eyed the weapon. 'I carry its... not sister, Niece.' She drew a blade in response, holding it out for Aeril to see in a similar fashion. 'Veilsong, the blade of her secondborn daughter, who turned Corsair, and settled on Craftworld Mythariel back when we were still a proud people.' She explained, then replaced the blade in its sheath.

'I'm impressed.'

Piracy.

Aelinor coughed, covering her mouth with the back of her hand in an attempt to disguise her revulsion for what she had just tasted.

"That is vile, Rishaeron." The Farseer coughed, but the Ranger was nonplussed. He swirled the last dregs of black Corsair rum in his cup and drained it with a smile on his face as the spiced liquid warmed him from the inside out.

"Yes, I didn't think it would be to your taste. However, it's what all the locals favour, and I know you're all in favour of expanding your horizons lately." Rishaeron indicated around the hubbub of the spaceport where exotically armoured Aeldari, Drukhari and their slaves ferried cargo, weapons and other ill gotten gains with the swashbuckling swagger unique to their kind.

The two black clad Ulthwéans and their sleeping Gyrinx cut an unusual figure sitting outside a bar at a small table but no more so than the carnival of colour surrounding them, but all the same Rishaeron spotted a figure a short distance away eyeing up the pair intently.

"Eyes up, Seer." He whispered, putting down his cup and leaning forward in his seat. "We appear to have company." He nodded in the direction of their observer.

"Greetings, friend. Do we have a problem here?"

@ash-and-the-void

A tall, dark haired Corsair captain, likely a princess from all the finery attached to her baroque wargear was approaching their table with a dark expression.

'Perhaps we do.' She replied nonchalantly. 'Is this a threat? A challenge? Who sent you? Baranaeor? Thieliq?' She listed a few more names that all sounded vaguely Corsair-like.

Then eventually stopped.

'You're not from one of the crews docked here are you?' She asked.

'Oh. Apologies. Quite often if I find someone sitting at my table it means... well it's a challenge of one kind or another.' She pulled up a chair and put her boots up on the table.

'But you two aren't here for that. Not in that getup. Craftworlders huh? Muted black... Ulthwe?' She asked.

The pair exchanged a quick glance, the Ranger intrigued by the new arrival while the Seer was put off by the too-familiar attitude of their guest.

"How perceptive." Aelinor observed, dryly. "Yes, we are of the Damned. Who might you be?"

Rishaeron leaned forward and waved his Wraithbone arm dismissively at Aelinor in an exaggerated, dramatic manner.

"We're travellers, no crew here. This is Aelinor Llacharni, and you may call me Rishaeron. My blue friend here is Virtute." He gestured to the Gyrinx curled about his feet that snored quite contentedly. "This is but a quick stop to fulfil a debt I'm owed."

"He is being dramatic. I lost a bet and owed him a drink. It's a shame we couldn't find something more palatable." The auburn haired psyker swirled her cup, and her lips curled at the thought of drinking more of the sickening tar-like liquor. Dismissing her cup, the Farseer gazed at the Corsair Captain in an attempt to answer her own question before giving up on the pursuit and frowning.

"From where do you hail, Corsair?"

#Mythariel being a Craftworld of my own creation

The Corsair gave Aelinor an amused smile. 'I am Princess Vaeryn Ael-va Caliwyn Vengeous, the Breaker of Thorns, Mistress of the Ashes of Isha among, several other gaudy titles.' She laughed.

'You say that as if you're no one important beside your names. But we don't see Craftworlders out here often, unless they're thinking of signing up?' She ventured with a wry grin as she gently stroked Virtute behind the ears.

'But the added drama makes for a far more interesting tale!' Vaeryn laughed. 'What sort of bet was it?' She leaned in conspiratorially. 'And you know you should have ordered the Shale-wine. In a place like this the only good drinks come with the worst names.'

Vaeryn leaned back in her seat and gave them a smile.

'They say your home is damned. Well, we have that in common. I hail from Craftworld Mythariel originally. It's... well, we as a collective people are unlucky. Our history is written in loss and blood and sorrow. We're a husk, clinging to life while dangling over the edge. We're the fate Iyanden hopes to avoid. And if it weren't for It's disparate daughters prowling the void we'd have faded away long ago.'

Piracy.

Aelinor coughed, covering her mouth with the back of her hand in an attempt to disguise her revulsion for what she had just tasted.

"That is vile, Rishaeron." The Farseer coughed, but the Ranger was nonplussed. He swirled the last dregs of black Corsair rum in his cup and drained it with a smile on his face as the spiced liquid warmed him from the inside out.

"Yes, I didn't think it would be to your taste. However, it's what all the locals favour, and I know you're all in favour of expanding your horizons lately." Rishaeron indicated around the hubbub of the spaceport where exotically armoured Aeldari, Drukhari and their slaves ferried cargo, weapons and other ill gotten gains with the swashbuckling swagger unique to their kind.

The two black clad Ulthwéans and their sleeping Gyrinx cut an unusual figure sitting outside a bar at a small table but no more so than the carnival of colour surrounding them, but all the same Rishaeron spotted a figure a short distance away eyeing up the pair intently.

"Eyes up, Seer." He whispered, putting down his cup and leaning forward in his seat. "We appear to have company." He nodded in the direction of their observer.

"Greetings, friend. Do we have a problem here?"

@ash-and-the-void

A tall, dark haired Corsair captain, likely a princess from all the finery attached to her baroque wargear was approaching their table with a dark expression.

'Perhaps we do.' She replied nonchalantly. 'Is this a threat? A challenge? Who sent you? Baranaeor? Thieliq?' She listed a few more names that all sounded vaguely Corsair-like.

Then eventually stopped.

'You're not from one of the crews docked here are you?' She asked.

'Oh. Apologies. Quite often if I find someone sitting at my table it means... well it's a challenge of one kind or another.' She pulled up a chair and put her boots up on the table.

'But you two aren't here for that. Not in that getup. Craftworlders huh? Muted black... Ulthwe?' She asked.

@dracite-aeril

A Corsair fleet had come to Rheivarath for resupply. The Corsairs had boasted of how they had beaten The Great Devourer to some priceless relics left on an abandoned Maiden World, and it showed, bio-plasma scars riddled their ships.

Aeril had been sent to talk to their leader, an enigmatic Corsair Princess named Vaeryn, and when she approached the Princess, who was in the middle of telling a bawdy story to some of her captains, Aeril had to blink a few times.

She looked remarkably like her Paramour.

She was thinner, perhaps taller, and her hair was shorter but, for a moment she had almost thought it was Skourna...

A Vengeous relative, perhaps? Aeril wondered, noting how similar Skourna’s relatives tended to look to her. In any case, now wouldn’t be the time to find out. Perhaps she could ask Skourna later.

“Princess Vaeryn?” Aeril asked as she strode up to the captains’ table, giving the group a respectful Anhrathe salute she’d recently learned. “My name is Aeril, First Dracite of the Shattered Fang and Captain of the Corsair vessel Javelin. It’s my pleasure to welcome you to Rheivarath.”

Skourna's potential relative was definitely the Princess she had been sent to meet with. As the Corsair Princess leaped up onto the table, and then strode across it before stepping down before Aeril. She was tall, even tall for an Aeldari.

She grinned and returned the salute.

'I am Princess Vaeryn of Craftworld Mythariel, and a member of the House of Vengeous.' She bowed, the various gemstones and baroque weapons hanging from her belt clinking audibly. 'Thank you for your kind words. Now I assume we are to discuss business?' She asked.

'My ships need repairs and resupply, and we are happy to provide our services to the cause in payment. Mythariel and her Corsair Daughters stand with the Ynnari, and have done for some time.' She smiled. 'Turns out it pays to have friends.'

“Rheivarath is always happy to assist our Ynnari Sisters of Mythariel,” Aeril said, returning the smile with a slight bow. “Our docks are not as robust or well-supplied as that of a Craftworld, but we will share what we can.”

She handed the much-taller princess a dataslate. “This is a supply manifest and resupply form. If you or one of your crew wouldn’t mind filling this out and giving it to the dockmaster of your assigned berth, we can start your repairs and restocks as soon as we can. Sorry for the bureaucracy, but it’s a necessary evil.”

Aeril briefly considered not discussing the Vengeous connection and keeping things purely professional, but decided it might not be a bad idea to try breaking the ice. “I’d thought you might be of House Vengeous,” she began, her tone a twinge awkward. “I’ve spent much time with the Black Hunt Vengeous branch, and you look quite a bit like your kin there.”

'Well, you mught be surprised at how well supplied Mythariel's docks can be.' Vaeryn snorted. 'Our once grand Craftworld has suffered greatly these past few millenia.'

Vaeryn eyed the dataslate briefly. Then whistled and tossed it to one of her lieutenants who caught it gracefully. 'I'll make sure we get the paperwork done swiftly. As you say it's an evil, but a necessary one.'

Vaeryn paused at that comment, she glanced at Aeril for a few moments before responding.

'You would be correct. I am of that great and widespread clan.' She said quietly. 'Ah, no wonder you noticed. You've been in the heart of the fat spiders web.' The way she said it implied Vaeryn meant it metaphorically. 'The House Matriarch likes to pull strings far from the Dark City. Even my parents would play her lip service if the family was ordered to gather. And I wonder... would I do the same?'

corsair-princess-nenime

Then I’ll make my own Ynnari…

I’m officially making Aeril’s Wych Cult an Ynnari denomination that worships Ynnead but doesn’t follow the “all elves must die” nonsense

corsair-princess-nenime

CIVIL WAR PLOT LETS GOOOOOO

Time to get my 95 theses ready

OK current plan is to make a new “minor” priestess of Ynnead that lives in Aeril’s city, is technically a follower of Yvraine, but disagrees over the genosuicide.

Art to follow.

I honestly love this plan.

We need more Ynnari priests. Because a religion may follow a prophet but they're never the sole holy figure!

@dracite-aeril

A Corsair fleet had come to Rheivarath for resupply. The Corsairs had boasted of how they had beaten The Great Devourer to some priceless relics left on an abandoned Maiden World, and it showed, bio-plasma scars riddled their ships.

Aeril had been sent to talk to their leader, an enigmatic Corsair Princess named Vaeryn, and when she approached the Princess, who was in the middle of telling a bawdy story to some of her captains, Aeril had to blink a few times.

She looked remarkably like her Paramour.

She was thinner, perhaps taller, and her hair was shorter but, for a moment she had almost thought it was Skourna...

A Vengeous relative, perhaps? Aeril wondered, noting how similar Skourna’s relatives tended to look to her. In any case, now wouldn’t be the time to find out. Perhaps she could ask Skourna later.

“Princess Vaeryn?” Aeril asked as she strode up to the captains’ table, giving the group a respectful Anhrathe salute she’d recently learned. “My name is Aeril, First Dracite of the Shattered Fang and Captain of the Corsair vessel Javelin. It’s my pleasure to welcome you to Rheivarath.”