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Farseer Kythil was sitting in the centre of his chambers meditating, when the door chimed. Opening one eye he called out “Who is it?”
There was a slight pause before the reply. “It is Dinrec mighty Seer.”
The reply caught Kythil off guard for a moment, after he collected himself he said, “Enter young Dinrec.” As Dinrec entered, he saw the old Farseer standing up, leaning heavily on an ornate cane, Kythil walked across the room and began looking out of the ornate windows, watching the dark void drift past them.
Without turning round, Kythil inquired, “What can I do for you young seer?” Kythil felt the Warlock’s unease as he searched his mind for the right words.
“I would like to learn the Art of the Novistill.”
Kythil stood still for a moment and continued to gaze into the dark void. He liked watching the many stars drift by with their families of planets. Looking into the vastness of space made all other problems seem insignificant and petty. “Do you think you are ready?”
Dinrec looked at the floor, again Kythil could feel the Warlocks unease, there was a correct way of answering the question, but so far it had eluded Dinrec. “Yes.” Dinrec stood silently watching the figure by the window for any hint of his response.
Kythil turned his head to the right, but kept his body still. “Wrong answer”
Dinrec’s heart sank; he had been waiting years to begin his training. He bowed his head and left Kythil alone in his chambers.
Farseer Karhaedron was practising with his rune sword when he heard his door chime. “Enter.” Dinrec entered the chambers and stood silently until the Farseer had finished his practising. The Farseer walked to a wall and hung the rune sword on two ornate hooks before sitting down on a couch.
Dinrec waited until his teacher was comfortable before approaching him. “Morfessa, can I ask for your advice?”
Karhaedron sat up before instructing Dinrec to have a seat. “Ok, what is on your mind?”
Dinrec sat down on another couch and thought for a moment. “Do you think I’m ready to learn the Art of the Novistill?”
Karhaedron chewed on a pulok weed for a moment. “I can’t tell you when you are ready, only you know that. You should go ask Kythil since he is the only living master of the art.”
The Warlock lay back on the couch, “I did, but all he said was wrong answer.”
Karhaedron smiled, he remembered when he approached Kythil with the same question, and Kythil had given him the same answer. Karhaedron didn’t take long to figure out why Kythil had refused to train him.
Dinrec helped himself to a pulok weed. “Can you have a word with him?”
Karhaedron looked at his pupil with a surprised look. “I certainly will not, if Kythil refused to train you, then he has good reason. He is the craftworld’s Athion; his authority in such matters is unquestionable, besides it is not polite to question your elders. Why he refused to train you is something you must work out yourself.”
Dinrec thumped his head on the back of the couch. “How am I supposed to do that? Kythil didn’t make sense.”
Karhaedron sighed loudly and rolled his eyes, Dinrec looked at him for a moment, obviously hurt and confused. “Your emotions are clouding your judgement. Clear your mind before working out the meanings. Go and meditate, the answer will find you.” Dinrec nodded and headed back to his chambers.
As the warmth of a nearby sun crept through the craftworld, Kythil woke up refreshed and ready for whatever the new day would bring. He quickly got dressed and decided to take a stroll through the gardens. As he entered the hydroponics dome the scent of a thousand kinds of flowers drifted towards him. Kythil sat down on a bench and enjoyed the many scents and colours. He hadn’t been in the gardens for a while and he remembered how he used to come here every time he wanted to relax and forget his troubles. After a moment he decided to collect more yenta root. He walked into the herb garden and met Karhaedron picking more pulok weed.
Kythil walked down one of the ornate pathways. “You still eating that rubbish then?”
Karhaedron smiled as his old teacher and friend sat down on one of the small benches. “Yes I am, it keeps me alert, besides I like the taste.”
Kythil chuckled, “You must be the only one who does. I prefer something milder myself, I’ve just come to get some actually.” Kythil removed his pouch from his waist.
Karhaedron took it from him. “I’ll pick them for you, the purple ones?”
Kythil nodded, and leaned back on the bench, his hands clasped on top of his cane. “You know I could have picked them myself, I’m not that old.”
Karhaedron gave Kythil a suspicious look; “You are coming up to your 908th cycle.”
Kythil looked at Karhaedron and smiled “You young seers just don’t understand, you are only as young as you feel.”
Karhaedron shook his head slowly and smiled. “You are the wise one, us young seers will heed your wise words.” He got back to picking the herbs, leaving Kythil to think.
“Speaking of young seers, how is Dinrec today?”
Karhaedron stopped for a moment. “I have not seen him today, I told him yesterday to think about your answer. He must still be meditating.” Kythil nodded his head but remained silent. Karhaedron gathered up the pouches and handed Kythil his herbs. “Are you hungry? Da’ca is cooking a lovely stew, you can join us if you want.”
Kythil stood up and smiled, “I would love to.”
“That was delicious, Da’ca, I must admit you are a lucky person Karhaedron.” Kythil pushed his plate near the centre of the table out of the way. Reaching into his cloak Kythil produced a slender pipe around 12 inches in length. It was made of polished wraithbone and was decorated with runes. He reached into his cloak again and brought out a box of dried Yenta leaves. He looked at Karhaedron and Da’ca for a moment. “May I?”
Da’ca nodded. “Certainly Kythil, there is a seat in the corner you may use.” Kythil gathered his things and stood up and approached the seat, it was very old with scenes of mythical battles engraved on it. “That was my grandfather’s favourite chair, he used to sit in it every night and light his pipe. You can use it if you want.”
Kythil looked at Da’ca then at the chair. “Thank you, I hope this isn’t imposing?”
Karhaedron shook his head. “Not at all, I told Da’ca about your routine and so she brought out the old chair for you.”
Kythil made himself comfortable. “Again I thank you. It is very comfortable.” Da’ca smiled as she cleared the table.
Karhaedron sat on a chair beside Kythil. “Can I ask you something?” Kythil raised an eyebrow as he lit his pipe. “Was I anything like Dinrec when you were teaching me?”
Kythil sat back and let a few smoke rings rise gently in the air before answering. “No you were not like Dinrec, as I recall you were the opposite to him.” Karhaedron looked at his friend for a moment trying to work out what he meant. Kythil continued. “Whereas Dinrec sort of jumps into things without thinking, you needed to be persuaded to try something. For a long time you wouldn’t pick up a rune sword because you were nervous about what it could do.”
Karhaedron sat back on the chair and glanced at his rune sword hanging on the wall. “Do you want a drink Kythil?”
Kythil nodded silently, after a short while Karhaedron handed him a glass of water.
Kythil soon finished his pipe and gathered up his things. “That was lovely. Thank you again for your hospitality. It was nice seeing you again Da’ca.” He stood up and made one final check to see if he had missed anything. He turned to Da’ca, “We must be off, there are guests arriving shortly and we must be in attendance.”
Karhaedron led him to the door. “I will be home soon Da’ca.” The two Farseers then made their way to the portal hall.
The Farseers continued down the polished corridors leading to the portal hall, Eldar greeted them and stepped aside out of respect as they walked by. On entering the portal hall they was greeted by seer Hirerahn.
The Warlock approached Karhaedron. “I am glad you are here, I was not looking forward to doing this on my own.”
The warp portal soon engaged, filling the room with a faint purple glow. A group of silhouettes soon approached through the portal and entered the hall. Their costumes were brightly coloured and each one had a mask shaped in an ironic half smile.
One of them stepped forward; he was dressed in the costume of the Ardathair. “Lavair.” It wasn’t a question.
Karhaedron approached the figure. “I am Farseer Karhaedron, 7th Catumen of this craftworld, this is Farseer Kythil, 7th Athion of this craftworld. Farbelahann is gladdened with your presence.”
The figure nodded to both Farseers in turn. “When is the meeting to be held?”
Kythil leaned on his cane as he replied, “it will be held shortly, we felt it was wiser to allow you to rest up after your journeys. Please follow us.”
As they walked through the wraithbone corridor the Ardathair turned to Kythil. “I hear you are a master of the Novistill?”
Kythil started to feel nervous. “Yes I am.”
The Ardathair seemed to smile behind his mask. “Excellent, perhaps you could demonstrate this art to me some time?”
Farseer Kythil awoke to the sound of his door chiming. Dressing quickly he told the visitor to enter. Karhaedron approached Kythil before speaking. “The Ardathair would like to see a demonstration of the Novistill.”
Kythil nodded. “I’ll be there shortly.”
Karhaedron nodded and waited by the door. After a few minutes, Kythil approached him, his rune sword humming softly from his belt. “Shall we?” he said, opening the door to his chambers and gesturing for Karhaedron to proceed before him.
Both seers left the chambers and headed towards the training area. When the two seers entered the arena, the Ardathair and his troupe of Harlequins were already assembled along with Eldar from the craftworld who had come to watch the session. The Ardathair and Kythil began to put on the contact sensors as the other Eldar sat down to watch the fight. As Kythil slowed his breathing, preparing for combat, he smiled to himself as the Ardathair approached, letting sight and Sight combine. Images overlapped each other as the skeins of probability manifested themselves, diminishing as the Ardathair came closer.
"I see you have prepared." The Ardathair said, noting Kythil’s white eyes. With those words the Ardathair stood in front of Kythil, and raised his weapon. The probability strands now fallen into the future that Kythil had envisaged. The Ardathair sprung forward in graceful bounds, and raised his sword to strike Kythil, but in a blur of movement Kythil dodged the blow and landed a strike on the Ardathair’s chest. The Harlequin looked at Kythil then at the flashing rune on his chest, signifying a hit. “Impressive. However I will not be so easy the next time.”
Kythil’s eyes turned white once more. “I know.” Raising his rune sword he jumped at the Ardathair, his psychic abilities allowing him to achieve greater distances than would normally be possible. The Harlequin parried the blow and returned it with one of his own. Kythil raised his sword to block it but it made contact on his arm. Kythil regarded it with a knowing look, before attacking the Ardathair again. With frightening agility the Harlequin blocked the swing, Kythil then unleashed a psychic blast knocking the Harlequin to the floor.
Patting the dust from his front, the Ardathair stood up and dusted himself down, the front runes were flashing, nine hits. “How refreshing, some initiative. I will enjoy this.”
The two combatants attacked one another again and again, the fight becoming a blur of colour. The counters on the walls kept track, the runes changing constantly. After 10 minutes, the combat stopped. Both Kythil and the Ardathair glanced at the counter, 86/63. Kythil bowed his head. The Ardathair looked at the Farseer. “Impressive fight. However do not feel too bad, it is closer than most people achieve.”
Kythil looked up and smiled “Indeed it is, now if you will excuse me, I will rest for a moment.”
The next day, Kythil woke up refreshed. He remembered the fight the previous day and he was pleased with his performance, even though he had not won. The door chiming broke his concentration. “Enter”
Karhaedron approached the Farseer. “Shall I call the Koeshfar on your behalf?”
Kythil nodded silently as he put on his cloak. “Give them half an hour to assemble.” Karhaedron nodded and left.
Half an hour had passed and Kythil took his seat on the Koeshfar. “Attention all. This is the first meeting of the Koeshfar since the loss of Farseer Ia’fen. As we all know Farseer Karhaedron as assumed the role of Catumen. So let us get this meeting under way.”
The Ardathair stood up to address the Koeshfar. “Our primary concern at this moment is the impending Chaos crusade. As you are aware, it will cross this craftworld in the few decades.” The Ardathair looked directly at Kythil before continuing. “Am I to assume you have begun preparations to halt this crusade?”
Kythil nodded. “I have foreseen the crusade and have taken measures to prevent it. It will be led towards the Imperium and their so called ‘Grey Knights’.”
The Ardathair seemed pleased with the answer but then became serious once more. “It is vital that Kanash the Corrupt dies in the battle.”
Kythil took a sip of water before replying “It shall be so.”
The discussions continued on for several more hours before the Koeshfar was finally adjourned.
As the Farseers watched the Harlequin troupe leave and the portal close behind them, Karhaedron relaxed and turned to Kythil. “How did I do?”
Kythil smiled and put his hand on Karhaedron’s shoulder, “You did very well, I t was hard to believe this was your first duty as Catumen.”
Karhaedron smiled, “Thank you for your kind words, I only hope I can as good as Farseer Ia’fen.”
Kythil leaned on his cane for a moment. “Farseer Ia’fen and yourself are two different people, don’t try and copy your predecessor, try to improve on his works. We are all born individual, it would be a shame if we all died copies.”
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your very good at writing but i did see some words un eldarish. you have a good talent use it for better plots and stories :a
I suggest you do loads of research and then rewrite this, or write some other stories and come back to the Eldar one. You have to be careful as Eldar do Not feel emotions and do not use sarcasm, or any other speech ideas like that. Basically Eldar are not gormless, they just may not be too vivid or feel anger or even relax. You know that bit where you said that 'made all the problems feel petty and small'? If a Farseer thought that then all the problems would become petty and small. That was how Slaanesh was created. You know that bit in the Eldar codex that says 'The stars once lived and died at our command'? They really did! All an Eldar has to do is think about a planet exploding, or the eye of terror closing up, and it would, it's just psychic force is so powerful it could create another Slaanesh, so they don't do it. Even the lowliest guardian is a moderately powerful psyker, it's just they don't choose to live their life by using psychic powers. Eldrad Ulthran is more powerful than Ahriman, Magnus the Red, even the Emperor, it's just he can't use his powers for the ideals of his race. If you wrote a story about an Farseer that went renegade, and used his powers for wrong, that would be ok, as he would be able to feel emotion and eventually would kill himself as his body is infected by Chaos while he's out of the presence of his craftworld. This is unfeasable though, so don't post it on the games workshop forum or anything or you'll get laughed at.
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