"How long until the ritual is complete?"
"You cannot rush something like this, guardian. Keep your position and make sure there are no interruptions" said Farseer Umada.
Telissa bit her tongue and focused back on the mess which surrounded them. Wraithbone, pale like a new moon, shaped like dead trees, surrounded the ancient temple. It was of eldar origin, or at least the broken remains of one. Gone were the statues of the Gods, the great works of art which had made Telissa's race great. Looking closer, she could see the marks of claws, of blades...clearly the result of those which had turned a gorgeous temple into nothing more than a bunch of still-standing stones.
And soon, Telissa knew, those same barbarians would be back. Why else had Umada wanted a bodyguard of twenty warriors? The guardians waited amongst the torn columns and shattered walls. They looked magnificent in their dark armor, so tight and flexible it left little of its wearer's body left to the imagination. Telissa herself wore one with a purple feather on top of her tall, dark helmet. Its red lenses scanned the great, empty fields which surrounded the temple, while the buttocks under her armor clenched hard with dread.
Why was she always the one chosen for this stupid, suicide missions? Why was her bubble butt always on the line, while so many others won honor and glory amongst the stars? She looked back at Umada, clad in her ornate farseer armor, gaunteleted hands reaching up high while a ring of glowing runes surrounded her figure. A perverse part of Telissa's mind wanted them to fail, just to see uptight Umada getting her ass handed to her.
Telissa, foes to the South
It was Adoniel who sent the message into Telissa's mind. The guardian instantly turned around and sprinted towards her cousin's side. She could already hear the chanting, the howls of pure glee of the incoming human horde. Umada had, at the very least, been decent enough to warn them about the foes who infested the wasteland. Plenty in number, very motivated, but poorly armed and led. The farseer had been quite confident that Telissa and her guardians would make short work of them. They were only cultists after all.
Fifty of them were already charging across the grey sands towards the temple. Clad in black and purple rags, these women chanted the name of She-Who-Thirsts, the Eldar's immortal enemy, the foul Goddess of Pleasure. Mutation had ravaged their ranks, giving some tall horns, or another arm. Others had pincers for arms, or a long tongue which flapped in the wind as they sprinted forwards.
"What do we do Telissa?" asked Adoniel, this time using her physical voice.
Telissa scowled. If they stayed they'd have great cover, but the foe could easily surround them with the greater numbers. Charging forwards could also lead to outflanking, but maybe the foe would not see that coming.
Originally written by Alv
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