The sound of heels clicking on the obsidian flooring reverberated up the spiral stairway of the Covens Oubliette. Steel tipped heels, just another means of bringing violent and painful death to her victims, clicked in perfect rhythm, never so much as a millisecond out, a testament to her arrogance and pride. Slowly descending the spiral stairs, she mused to herself, what torture can she bring to real space. To her, all other races were nothing more than lessor beings to be treated with the same content a shephard has for sick cattle.
Her haughty manner would entice many a mortal to her, only to then be used as her play-thing. A slow and prolonged death. But not this time. This time she had a better plan; death being a merciful fate compared to what she now had in mind. Her Haemonculi covens had devised the turning of the flesh, to convert the subjects to their servants for an eternity of pain. Leaving them with a dim awareness of self, just enough for them to know what fate has befallen them, enough to see what a monstrosity they have become. Enough for them to be in eternal anguish in their new form. She paused for a moment, to savour the thought, like a connoirseur would savour the taste of a fine wine. She opened her eyes, eyes of pure emerald green, and continued her strut towards the Haemonculus.
To a son of Terra, she would remind them of a tortuter from its ancient history. Her hair fire red, tied up in to a high tail, her face white as alabaster, ice blue eye make up, accentuating her striking cheek bones, purple lip stick. Around her neck a heavy set bejewelled necklace, full of elderich power, a tight corset pushing her cleavage up, all the better to seduce her prey, trimmed in gold, a long gown worn over her shoulders, complimented by a long flowing skirt, open split to allow her legs the freedom of movement. Her long thigh lengthed boots, tight to her legs, a waepon in their own right, several seratted blades running the length of the boot and a deadly poisoned steel tipped heel. A Temptress of evil, for her heart would show no mercy or emotion but satisfaction of the kill. Clipped to her midriff in an alien scabbard a blade of unknown origin - the power to strike down any mortal and the lethality that no armour could protect against.
To those gifted with wych sight, they would see nohing but the resonance of a withered and old hag, depraved and evil, for at heart, that is all she was. But to the courts of the Dark Eldar, she was Lady Malys, Archon of the Poisoned Tongue, and probably the only person in the Dark City capable of removing Asdrubael Vect as supreme overlord of Commoragh. And Real Space would need to prepare, for she would show no mercy, and the Eastern Fringe would be her first victim of wrath - The Tau Empire
Home 
