It never rained in Commorragh, but somehow the walls managed to drip as though the city were in the middle of an equatorial jungle. Sedri never really liked the place. It may have been the center of Dark Eldar culture in the universe, but it was a grim, unpleasant place. It wasn't even the only place she could get into a good fight, though the gladitorial arenas were where she honed her skills. She preferred having room to move. She fought like a dancer, with graceful, sweeping motions, allowing her sectioned blade to give her a reach advantage over her enemies. In the alleys and narrow streets of the City she barely had room to run. Running was one of her least favorite activities. Sedri was doing a lot of running lately. Her footfalls echoed down the alleyway as she ducked out of the path of another Bloodknife hunting party. Ever since they had captured the Rokea Kabal's fortress, they had been behaving like they owned the streets in the Lerash Quarter. Their hunting parties had been sweeping the area clean of any allies of the Rokea - few though they were. Even her Wych Cult, the Naked Blade, had been targeted. The Naked Blade had abandoned Nathel Rim-Seeker's Kabal only weeks ago, but the Bloodknife Kabal didn't want to take any chances. The Naked Blade had been caught as unaware as had the Rokea. Their Temple had been destroyed and now the Wyches were reduced to running and hiding in the streets of Commorragh. Sedri sneered, her head aching from all the running she had been doing. A scarce few Wyches had escaped from the assault launched by the Bloodknife and their allies. Scattered and homeless, the survivors were being eliminated one at a time by Bloodknife warriors and by the Mandrakes that stalked the streets, preying upon the alone and the vulnerable. At the moment, Sedri was both, and her heart leapt at every shifting shadow - and in Commorragh, there were a lot of those. Sedri checked her pistol reflexively. It still had thirty or so charges left, enough to last her a while. She paused in her flight, glancing up at the high walls and distant gantries above. The harsh spires of the distant rooftops clawed at the green sky. Gripping her blade in the other hand, she took a moment to rest herself. She strained to listen for signs of pursuit, but heard something different. A scream echoed in the dark, followed by the sound of metal striking metal… a battle. 'But where?' she wondered. Fighting was better than running, and perhaps finding some fellow Wyches to stand with and to die with would make her feel better about her impending death. Sedri sighed and wiped some of the grime off her bare arms. She chose a direction and started to run again. Her footfalls almost drowned out the sounds of battle, but Sedri soon found herself going in the right direction. She slowed her pace, beginning to creep closer until she was peeking around a corner at the scene that had drawn her. Blood already made a striking contrast to the black of the stone on the ground. Bodies were strewn about, and the living and soon-to-be dead still danced the dance of combat. Sedri recognized the red armor of the Bloodknife warriors, and also the unarmored, tatooed forms of the Naked Blade Wyches that were her comrades. She reached down and triggered the drug dispenser attached to the small of her back and she felt the sting of the potent cocktail of designer narcotics take effect, increasing her speed and ferocity. Sedri snarled and leapt into the open ground, lifting her pistol to open fire on a Bloodknife warrior that had her back to her. The splinter pistol hummed in her hand in response to her pulling the trigger, and a volley of solid shards of toxin launched into the air. The Warrior began to turn, but the projectiles slammed into her back, throwing her to the ground where she writhed in agony. Sedri ignored the doomed warrior and leapt over her, blade lifted to strike at another. Her segmented, whip-like blade rattled like a snake as it ripped into the next warrior's neck. He reached up as though to grasp the blade, but it was futile. Sedri yanked the blade back and the man's head dropped to the ground an instant ahead of his body. Sedri took a moment to take stock of the situation. The Wyches were outnumbered, but the close quarters were proving to be to the advantage of the Wyches. The Bloodknife warriors were outclassed by the fighting ability of the Wyches. Somehow the Wyches had manouvered the Warriors into an ambush, it appeared. Sedri had arrived just in time to assist them in eliminating the last of the hunting party. Sedri ran to join the others. About twenty Wyches were gathered around a white-haired woman. Sedri recognized her, it was Jebrudal, senior trainer of the Naked Blade. The wiry old woman smiled when she saw Sedri. "Another blade joins the fight." Said Jebrudal in her wispy voice. "Welcome Sedri." The other Wyches turned and nodded at Sedri. The others were not in any mood to smile, but Sedri did so out of pure relief. As long as they had Jebrudal they had a chance at survival. Everyone now looked to the old woman for guidance. "We have achieved victory in this stinking alley, Bladekin." She said. "But the Bloodknife will hunt us down eventually." Some of the Wyches looked down at the ground, others at each other, and still others fixed their gaze on Jebrudal. Sedri was one of the latter. Anger grew inside her, and the old woman saw and recognized it. "Come, we will continue to fight. It is what we were born for." She said, and the others nodded their heads. Sedri ground her teeth in anger. It was the way of the Dark Eldar, but she resented her fate nonetheless. She promised herself that she would escape it if she could. Regrouped and rearmed with the weapons of the fallen warriors, the Wyches moved on. Stringing out into groups of five, they made their way through the streets and alleyways, now trying to strike as opposed to run. They ambushed those hunting parties small enough to eliminate without attracting too much notice, avoided those too large or too well-equipped. The battles took their toll, and the band shrunk through casualties, replacing their numbers at times with other stragglers, but the dangers of Commorragh reduced that stream of hope to a trickle. They finally felt strong enough to attempt to capture a Raider transport that might allow them to escape the quarter. A band of Wyches opened fire on the skimmer with their Blaster, drawing the attention of the squad and its Sybarite. They then fled down a narrow alley, trying to draw the warriors after them while the rest of the Wyches awaited to pounce on the crew of the Raider from above. It all went to plan. The crew was caught unaware and slaughtered, the skimmer's controls taken by a Wych trained as a pilot, and the squad of warriors led into an ambush. Consolidating their position around the Raider, the Wyches found themselves bathed in light. Blinded, Sedri dove off the deck of the Raider on instinct an instant before the vehicle exploded, killing several of her comrades. A hot pain shot up her arm as she struck the ground. Sedri recognized the dislocated shoulder and twisted around. The pain of it returning to place was even stronger, but she withstood it. She had no time for pain. The Bloodknife had set a trap. Two Raptor jetbikes screamed down out of the air. Larger versions of the Reaver jetbikes piloted by the Wych cults, they mounted heavier weapons. One had just torn the Raider in half with its Dark Lance, while the second was sweeping the survivors with its Splinter Cannon. A Raider followed, loaded with Wyches from a rival cult, the Slayers. The Naked Blade Wyches screamed their defiance, but they it was a futile display. They were scattered and not armed to handle the Raptors. The Slayers waited for the Raptors to thin the Naked Blade further before attacking. Sedri rolled to her feet, screaming at the cowards, but fully expected to die in the next moment. A curious sound entered Sedri's consciousness between breaths. A clicking, scuttling sound echoed through the street. She looked up, and to her surprise, she spied two spidery shapes silhouetted against the sky, clinging to the underside of one of the bridges overhead. The first Raptor was banking around, coming back for another pass, and the first spider-thing turned, its clawed feet holding onto the pitted stone. The shadows around the thing ruptured, and a ball of dark matter erupted into the air. The lead Raptor exploded, showering Sedri with debris, but she did not care. Something bizarre was happening, and she was fixated. The pilot of the second Raptor swerved at the last moment to avoid the wreck of his partner. It screamed past, right over Sedri's head. The second spider-thing spun its head around, a Dark Lance visible against the sky. Another snap of displaced air and the second jetbike imploded as the dark matter ate it. The Slayers gazed up in surprise, and began to shriek in pain as Splinter Cannon shards rained down on them. A lucky hit struck the pilot and the Raider plummeted, impacting the ground with a sharp crack. The Naked Blade were on them in an instant, slaughtering them. Sedri continued to look up as another Raider appeared. It was unmarked and scarred from battle, it was as though it came from a world other than the appearance-oriented world of Commorragh. It descended as the Wyches of the Naked Blade looked up with wary eyes. On its deck were warriors wearing the grey-blue armor of the Rokea. * * * It was some hours later by the time the Rokea warriors and the Naked Blade Wyches arrived at a run-down tower, forgotten or abandoned by its masters. Rot had set in. Commorragh had no natural life to it. The only things that lived were the Dark Eldar and the luminescent lichens that appeared in the oldest parts of the city. It had a way of appearing where least expected - usually where nobody had bothered to be. It seemed to hide from the Dark Eldar. Here in this tower, it was slowly receeding from its new inhabitants, but it was there, its sickly green glow lighting its corridors and halls. Sedri and the other Wyches that still lived, some twenty-five, accompanied their saviours to their haven. They were a mismatched group. Some were obviously survivors of the attack on their citadel who had escaped into the streets. These had a haunted look in their eyes. Nobody asked how they had survived, but the way they lurked in the shadows suggested dark things to Sedri. Others seemed to have been equipped expressly for their role - recovering troops and allies from the City. Their leader, a tall, truculent Sybarite told the Wyches how things would be as they gathered in a vaulted chamber at the summit of the tower. "We have saved you, Wyches, not because we wanted to, but because we were asked to." She said, disdain making her voice sour. She wore the black and bone armor of a Rokea Sybarite. She carried a trident-shaped Agonizer that at some time in the past had been permanently attached to her left arm in place of her hand. "Nathel the Betrayer sent us back here to gather you. She has moved outside Commorragh in order to gather her forces for a counterstrike against her enemies." The Wyches looked at each other, and then to Sedri. Sedri felt a flash of regret. They now looked to her because Jebrudal had been killed in the ambush. Sedri frowned as she looked at the Sybarite. "What is your name, Rokea?" she asked. The Sybarite's helmed head turned to face Sedri, eye-slits glowing with a green that eerily echoed that of the lichens in the chamber. "You may call me Kheld'rel." she said, seeming to look Sedri over. "Your lives now belong to Nathel." She continued. The Wyches all exclaimed in outrage and leapt to their feet or stepped forward, even the wounded. Sedri joined them. "You can claim nothing, Rokea!" snapped Sedri, hand going to her blade. She moved to draw, but stopped. The spidery scuttling descended from the arched and shadowed ceiling. The two clawed things shifted in the dark above, and Sedri was suddenly very aware of two Dark Lances being aimed at her. Her apprehension transformed to anger and she glared at Kheld'rel. "Kill me if you wish, but we Naked Blades owe nothing to you Rokea after the way you allowed our brethren to be massacred by the Biel-Tan!" Kheld'rel watched Sedri impassively for a moment, then raised her agonizer. At her signal, shadows began to separate themselves from the walls, and the haunted warriors moved to join them. Sedri had a terrible realization about those black-eyed wretches as the eager shapes of Mandrakes appeared all around them. "My drones are under my complete control." Said Kheld'rel with a cruel twist of her voice. "But these creatures are only bent to the will of their own dark desires." Blades clicked against stone and the Wyches backed into the center of the chamber, eyes full of fear as a ring of the shadow-skinned killers closed in. Kheld'rel laughed, a heartless, vicious sound, and Sedri realized that the woman had no compunctions about allowing the Mandrakes to tear them all apart. Sedri clenched the handle of her blade hard, then let it go. "We have no choice." She hissed. "Lower your weapons, Wyches!" Sedri glared at Kheld'rel. "Call them off!" Kheld'rel waited. The Wyches all lowered their weapons, but the Mandrakes continued to approach, twitching and hissing. Sedri had a horrible premonition of her death, but before it could come true, Kheld'rel lowered her Agonizer at the last moment, chuckling in amusement at the relief in Sedri's eyes as the Mandrakes reluctantly returned to the shadows along with those warriors she had seen. The remainder of the Rokea warriors seemed as unnerved as Sedri and her Wyches, but Kheld'rel seemed beyond caring. "We will be going to join Nathel soon. When we do, you and your comrades will have enemies to fight and a chance to redeem yourselves to our Archon." Said the Sybarite, turning and walking slowly back to the one of the Raiders that sat in the chamber. She sat on the edge of its deck and looked down at her Agonizer hand. She shook her head and chuckled humourlessly. Sedri shivered. * * * Go on to the second half of the story. If you'd like to read the earlier installments, see: Part 1: My Glass is half Empty Part 2: The Key to the Fury of the Stars Part 3: Desperate Measures By Jesse, December 28, 2001