Faahram Weirdo

“This way.” the Ranger would hiss through her mask, prompting her fellows to follow with a gesture down another identical looking hall. The small group of mercenaries and craftworld Aeldari were in a race against time, running through the bleak and sterile maze that was this miserable tomb. Guided by the Ranger Aeraine Uradh, the members of this small force had been tasked with entering a dormant Necron Crown World, and by using the visions of their Farseer employer, they were to locate the slumbering Overlord and ensure he’d never awake.

It had been described as a mission fraught with potential danger, but the Farseer had soothed any worries with payment upfront and after the deed was done. Not only that, they had said the tomb was completely dead aside from a few constructs, and if done quickly they could avoid having a confrontation that would lead toward a messy demise.

Unfortunately, either by mere chance or the tomb reacting to their presence, the band of aeldari would find that as they reached their destination the crypt seemed to be coming to life around them. Now, it was a rush to the Overlord’s sanctum, only the blue glow from the Necron markings on the walls lighting their way as Aeraine led them through the twisting path.

Behind them, the clangs of metal could be heard, slow but steady, unhurried but certain. Whatever had awakened was coming for them, aware of the intruders in this sacred den of the cold and dead.

“Isha’s Tears, I should’ve known this would’ve happened!” Aeraine cursed as she ran, leaping over a confused patch of scarabs that had gone to work on repairing cracks in the hallway’s walls.

“If we can still trust that damned Farseer’s words, then that abomination’s resting place should be right ahead, we just have to make it!” The cloaked ranger would declare, looking back to keep count of her allies.

After a few more moments of frantic running, the halls would open up, and the task force would be met with a bright blue light. Ahead, in the gloom between the illuminance, was what finally appeared to be their target.

The metallic creature rested upright in a casket full of wires and circuitry, it’s arms crossed over its chest as it slept dreamlessly in what Aeraine assumed to be the throne room. The room was indeed opulent, with numerous other close caskets, humming generators, and pillars of white metal gleaming in the dark, all covered in the familiar blue glyphs of this particular Dynasty’s markings.

It was clear as day that the awakened monster was a Lychguard, made even more obvious by the shield and Hyperphase Sword it brought to bare as it faced the aeldari kill squad. It’s silver body glimmered in the blue light in the chamber, but even in its pristine condition, the being moved slowly, still not completely roused from its millennia long slumber.

Naada shot the slumbering necron lord one last hateful look before shifting her stance to face off against the Lychguard.

“This way.” the Ranger would hiss through her mask, prompting her fellows to follow with a gesture down another identical looking hall. The small group of mercenaries and craftworld Aeldari were in a race against time, running through the bleak and sterile maze that was this miserable tomb. Guided by the Ranger Aeraine Uradh, the members of this small force had been tasked with entering a dormant Necron Crown World, and by using the visions of their Farseer employer, they were to locate the slumbering Overlord and ensure he’d never awake.

It had been described as a mission fraught with potential danger, but the Farseer had soothed any worries with payment upfront and after the deed was done. Not only that, they had said the tomb was completely dead aside from a few constructs, and if done quickly they could avoid having a confrontation that would lead toward a messy demise.

Unfortunately, either by mere chance or the tomb reacting to their presence, the band of aeldari would find that as they reached their destination the crypt seemed to be coming to life around them. Now, it was a rush to the Overlord’s sanctum, only the blue glow from the Necron markings on the walls lighting their way as Aeraine led them through the twisting path.

Behind them, the clangs of metal could be heard, slow but steady, unhurried but certain. Whatever had awakened was coming for them, aware of the intruders in this sacred den of the cold and dead.

“Isha’s Tears, I should’ve known this would’ve happened!” Aeraine cursed as she ran, leaping over a confused patch of scarabs that had gone to work on repairing cracks in the hallway’s walls.

“If we can still trust that damned Farseer’s words, then that abomination’s resting place should be right ahead, we just have to make it!” The cloaked ranger would declare, looking back to keep count of her allies.

After a few more moments of frantic running, the halls would open up, and the task force would be met with a bright blue light. Ahead, in the gloom between the illuminance, was what finally appeared to be their target.

The metallic creature rested upright in a casket full of wires and circuitry, it’s arms crossed over its chest as it slept dreamlessly in what Aeraine assumed to be the throne room. The room was indeed opulent, with numerous other close caskets, humming generators, and pillars of white metal gleaming in the dark, all covered in the familiar blue glyphs of this particular Dynasty’s markings.

“This way.” the Ranger would hiss through her mask, prompting her fellows to follow with a gesture down another identical looking hall. The small group of mercenaries and craftworld Aeldari were in a race against time, running through the bleak and sterile maze that was this miserable tomb. Guided by the Ranger Aeraine Uradh, the members of this small force had been tasked with entering a dormant Necron Crown World, and by using the visions of their Farseer employer, they were to locate the slumbering Overlord and ensure he’d never awake.

It had been described as a mission fraught with potential danger, but the Farseer had soothed any worries with payment upfront and after the deed was done. Not only that, they had said the tomb was completely dead aside from a few constructs, and if done quickly they could avoid having a confrontation that would lead toward a messy demise.

Unfortunately, either by mere chance or the tomb reacting to their presence, the band of aeldari would find that as they reached their destination the crypt seemed to be coming to life around them. Now, it was a rush to the Overlord’s sanctum, only the blue glow from the Necron markings on the walls lighting their way as Aeraine led them through the twisting path.

Behind them, the clangs of metal could be heard, slow but steady, unhurried but certain. Whatever had awakened was coming for them, aware of the intruders in this sacred den of the cold and dead.

“Isha’s Tears, I should’ve known this would’ve happened!” Aeraine cursed as she ran, leaping over a confused patch of scarabs that had gone to work on repairing cracks in the hallway’s walls.

“If we can still trust that damned Farseer’s words, then that abomination’s resting place should be right ahead, we just have to make it!” The cloaked ranger would declare, looking back to keep count of her allies.

@ask-naada

Aeril stood with her arms crossed behind her back on the bridge of Javelin, her personal Nightshade-class torpedo destroyer, gazing out at the planet below. It was known as Zorathon and, despite supposedly being a Maiden World, exhibited exactly none of the traits common to stellar bodies terraformed by her ancient ancestors. There were no lush gardens here; only a vast, planet-covering ocean.

At least, that’s what Javelin’s sensors claimed. The entire world was covered by thick clouds obscuring the planet’s surface.

Aeril sighed. This was not what she was expecting when she was assigned to relic-gathering duty on a Maiden World. 

Asuryani jetbikes were grown from wraithbone and as such they were naturally buoyant. Alas, they were not designed to operate as effective boats. Naada’s beautiful mount rolled beneath her, useless.

Looking back, trails of red flares rose in the distance. Naada’s other riders had suffered the same fate as her, it seemed. They would be fine, there were contingency plans, but like her, they were probably feeling the sting of losing their seats.

“We need to go help out Naada’s people,” Aeril said, turning her gaze to the flares rising into the cloudy sky. “Ullae, can you get us up and running?”

The pilot shook her head.

“The engine is completely cooked,” she said, frustration more than evident in her voice. “Actually, all the electronics in the raider are dead.”

“Do you have any idea what knocked us out? Raiders are supposed to be hardened against any kind of EMP.”

“Not a damn clue. All I can think to do is try to hotwire some kind of communications method with our ships, see if they’re okay.”

“Do it,” Aeril ordered, and Ullae immediately began throwing together some electronics. Aeril turned her attention to her guest. “Princess Naada, have you ever seen anything like this?”

“I cannot say I have, Lady” She said, crossing the vessel to fish Waako from the water. “Asuryani jetbikes are charged with psychic power. Naada supposes a surge of such could overload their engines. As to what made it happen…”

“Yeah, it’s coming along…” the pilot groaned. “It’s just annoying. I have to rewire all this crap, then make sure it’s situated right, and then-”

She was cut off by a deep, bestial groan, one that seemed to reverberate through the entire craft.

“Uhhh… what was that?” Jastra asked, her voice rather quiet.

Suddenly, the raider jerked to the side, as if something had slammed into it underneath the waves. It wasn’t enough to capsize it, but it was more than enough to send Ullae flying into the water. 

She quickly surfaced, inhaling and wiping saltwater from her eyes.

“What the fuck was - AH!” Ullae had only a split second to yelp before she was inexplicably yanked underwater.

“Ullae!” Aeril shouted, firmly gripping the side of the raider as she leaned over, desperately looking for any sign of her comrade.

Then, nearly a hundred meters from the raider, a massive tentacle burst from the water, high into the air, with a screaming Ullae firmly in its grasp. The passengers on the raider looked on in horror as an enormous, circular maw filled with what looked like hundreds of teeth surfaced and opened below the tentacle; whatever creature these were a part of had to be truly gargantuan.

“Oh, Ynnead damn it,”  she muttered as the gun sputtered for a few moments, impotent whirs sounding from the weapon. 

The creature began to swim closer.

After a few more pulls of the trigger and a single smack of anger from Aeril, the gun’s yellowish energies began to glow along the barrel, and a streak of unstable matter soared through the air and smacked into the tentacle that had just sent Ullae to her doom. Aeril cackled and the leviathan roared, then sank back into the depths.

“Is it… gone?” Jastra asked after a few seconds.

@ask-naada

Aeril stood with her arms crossed behind her back on the bridge of Javelin, her personal Nightshade-class torpedo destroyer, gazing out at the planet below. It was known as Zorathon and, despite supposedly being a Maiden World, exhibited exactly none of the traits common to stellar bodies terraformed by her ancient ancestors. There were no lush gardens here; only a vast, planet-covering ocean.

At least, that’s what Javelin’s sensors claimed. The entire world was covered by thick clouds obscuring the planet’s surface.

Aeril sighed. This was not what she was expecting when she was assigned to relic-gathering duty on a Maiden World. 

Asuryani jetbikes were grown from wraithbone and as such they were naturally buoyant. Alas, they were not designed to operate as effective boats. Naada’s beautiful mount rolled beneath her, useless.

Looking back, trails of red flares rose in the distance. Naada’s other riders had suffered the same fate as her, it seemed. They would be fine, there were contingency plans, but like her, they were probably feeling the sting of losing their seats.

“We need to go help out Naada’s people,” Aeril said, turning her gaze to the flares rising into the cloudy sky. “Ullae, can you get us up and running?”

The pilot shook her head.

“The engine is completely cooked,” she said, frustration more than evident in her voice. “Actually, all the electronics in the raider are dead.”

“Do you have any idea what knocked us out? Raiders are supposed to be hardened against any kind of EMP.”

“Not a damn clue. All I can think to do is try to hotwire some kind of communications method with our ships, see if they’re okay.”

“Do it,” Aeril ordered, and Ullae immediately began throwing together some electronics. Aeril turned her attention to her guest. “Princess Naada, have you ever seen anything like this?”

“I cannot say I have, Lady” She said, crossing the vessel to fish Waako from the water. “Asuryani jetbikes are charged with psychic power. Naada supposes a surge of such could overload their engines. As to what made it happen…”

“Yeah, it’s coming along…” the pilot groaned. “It’s just annoying. I have to rewire all this crap, then make sure it’s situated right, and then-”

She was cut off by a deep, bestial groan, one that seemed to reverberate through the entire craft.

“Uhhh… what was that?” Jastra asked, her voice rather quiet.

Suddenly, the raider jerked to the side, as if something had slammed into it underneath the waves. It wasn’t enough to capsize it, but it was more than enough to send Ullae flying into the water. 

She quickly surfaced, inhaling and wiping saltwater from her eyes.

“What the fuck was - AH!” Ullae had only a split second to yelp before she was inexplicably yanked underwater.

“Ullae!” Aeril shouted, firmly gripping the side of the raider as she leaned over, desperately looking for any sign of her comrade.

Then, nearly a hundred meters from the raider, a massive tentacle burst from the water, high into the air, with a screaming Ullae firmly in its grasp. The passengers on the raider looked on in horror as an enormous, circular maw filled with what looked like hundreds of teeth surfaced and opened below the tentacle; whatever creature these were a part of had to be truly gargantuan.

Primer on the Companies of Faahram

[…] Some companies are truly ancient, formed even before the sundering of the aeldari. Most prominent among them is the Amlûmorn, informally referred to as the Vilebloods [1]. In them the line between Asuryani and Drukhari is truly blurred, for they have been in fruitful contract with the Dark City since time immemorial. Their lords are the Prince Uvahra the Quiet and the Witch-Princess Waaw, who, like their predecessors, are as wicked and mercurial as any Archon [2]. Indeed, they are not truly based upon holy Faahram. Their outpost there is but a temple. Their true stronghold is a satellite realm to Commorragh, the ancient port citadel known as the Heaven of Afrahfa, a haunt of corsairs and cutthroats.

[1] Though often used as a derogatory by the other companies of Faahram, the Amlûmorn seem to relish the term, as it seems to highlight their sinister reputation, and denote a distinction between themselves and their ‘craftworld bound’ kin.

Yet mercenaries they remain (only to those Archons approved by the Supreme Overlord) though pricey, elitist, and unfathomably proud. Clad in black, ornate armor, each and every warrior of the Amlûmorn claims the style Héru-o-Yeranie [4]. Indeed, they believe themselves to be so well bred that they refuse to engage Commorran slum-dwellers in combat, leaving such opponents for the gangs and corsairs in their thrall.

[3] Curiously, the Amlúmorn are also tasked with putting out fires throughout Commorragh.

@ask-naada

Aeril stood with her arms crossed behind her back on the bridge of Javelin, her personal Nightshade-class torpedo destroyer, gazing out at the planet below. It was known as Zorathon and, despite supposedly being a Maiden World, exhibited exactly none of the traits common to stellar bodies terraformed by her ancient ancestors. There were no lush gardens here; only a vast, planet-covering ocean.

At least, that’s what Javelin’s sensors claimed. The entire world was covered by thick clouds obscuring the planet’s surface.

Aeril sighed. This was not what she was expecting when she was assigned to relic-gathering duty on a Maiden World. 

Asuryani jetbikes were grown from wraithbone and as such they were naturally buoyant. Alas, they were not designed to operate as effective boats. Naada’s beautiful mount rolled beneath her, useless.

Looking back, trails of red flares rose in the distance. Naada’s other riders had suffered the same fate as her, it seemed. They would be fine, there were contingency plans, but like her, they were probably feeling the sting of losing their seats.

“We need to go help out Naada’s people,” Aeril said, turning her gaze to the flares rising into the cloudy sky. “Ullae, can you get us up and running?”

The pilot shook her head.

“The engine is completely cooked,” she said, frustration more than evident in her voice. “Actually, all the electronics in the raider are dead.”

“Do you have any idea what knocked us out? Raiders are supposed to be hardened against any kind of EMP.”

“Not a damn clue. All I can think to do is try to hotwire some kind of communications method with our ships, see if they’re okay.”

“Do it,” Aeril ordered, and Ullae immediately began throwing together some electronics. Aeril turned her attention to her guest. “Princess Naada, have you ever seen anything like this?”

“I cannot say I have, Lady” She said, crossing the vessel to fish Waako from the water. “Asuryani jetbikes are charged with psychic power. Naada supposes a surge of such could overload their engines. As to what made it happen…”

The Rangers boot kicked sand over the dying embers of the fire. It was an unusually beautiful night on the world he explored and he had even enjoyed the company he spent it with. A kaleidoscopic sunset melded multitudes of colour over the shifting sands where Rishaeron and Naada made camp. Not another living soul walked upon the face of the planet and so the Ranger uncorked a skin of dark rum that he kept for rare nights such as these.

“Well then, friend.” He itched at his nose quite subconsciously, even now a phantom ache haunted his feature. “I know you’ve fought tougher than me in your life, you must have something worthy of a good story.” He offered the pouch to his companion, and lay back in the sand. Lacing his fingers and gazing up at the stars, a thin smile spreading across his lips. This was peace.

“Naada has many such stories,” she said, taking the offered skin. “If I were to tell them all the sun would rise and set again and I would still be talking.” Naada drank. The rum was too sweet for her taste, but here and now it served.

Her fingers traced the prayer script engraved on her weapon. Nothing can dim the light that shines from within.

“But first, I will tell you of Neilithi, just so. It’s a world of Exodites, and theirs was a fair country of climbing woods and swift-falling streams. Alas, two thousand years past the machine humans came to their world, drawn by its minerals and tar pits. They settled on a valley hemmed by mountains on all sides but the north, which faced a desert.

There they raised their forge and turned the region into a sad, blasted wasteland, wreathed in smog, where beauty fled and even their dead were put to work or marched to war. From what I heard, our good cousins mastered the ways of war in time to save their kingdom of wraithbone and wood, but could never drive off the humans.

The cog heads had chosen their realm well; the mountain passes were easily defendable, and they had brought a retinue of knight-walkers to protect them. Neilithi was under the protection of Alaitoc, I think it was, but the ghost warriors never came, on account of some ancient slight.

The mercenary rubbed her hands together in the gathering dark.

@ask-naada

Aeril stood with her arms crossed behind her back on the bridge of Javelin, her personal Nightshade-class torpedo destroyer, gazing out at the planet below. It was known as Zorathon and, despite supposedly being a Maiden World, exhibited exactly none of the traits common to stellar bodies terraformed by her ancient ancestors. There were no lush gardens here; only a vast, planet-covering ocean.

At least, that’s what Javelin’s sensors claimed. The entire world was covered by thick clouds obscuring the planet’s surface.

Aeril sighed. This was not what she was expecting when she was assigned to relic-gathering duty on a Maiden World. 

Asuryani jetbikes were grown from wraithbone and as such they were naturally buoyant. Alas, they were not designed to operate as effective boats. Naada’s beautiful mount rolled beneath her, useless.

Looking back, trails of red flares rose in the distance. Naada’s other riders had suffered the same fate as her, it seemed. They would be fine, there were contingency plans, but like her, they were probably feeling the sting of losing their seats.

@ask-naada

Aeril stood with her arms crossed behind her back on the bridge of Javelin, her personal Nightshade-class torpedo destroyer, gazing out at the planet below. It was known as Zorathon and, despite supposedly being a Maiden World, exhibited exactly none of the traits common to stellar bodies terraformed by her ancient ancestors. There were no lush gardens here; only a vast, planet-covering ocean.

At least, that’s what Javelin’s sensors claimed. The entire world was covered by thick clouds obscuring the planet’s surface.

Aeril sighed. This was not what she was expecting when she was assigned to relic-gathering duty on a Maiden World. 

Once final arrangements were settled and the ships were linked, Naada stepped onto the Javelin’s bridge, followed by her retinue.

The mercenaries of Faahram wore shirts of red scales over their sleek, silvery armor. Round shields were slung behind their backs, along with their weapons: power axes and laser carabines. Their spiked helms were hung with aventails that hid their features, but for their mismatched eyes.

Had she? She usually tuned out anything that didn’t involve killing. “Briefed, just so. The Dracite seeks treasures, and her Archite paid Naada handsomely to watch over her.”

“To be honest, nothing is expected. The clouds coverage seems to be somehow interfering with our sensors. We know it’s covered in ocean, and we know the air is breathable, but that’s about all we can figure out.”

As they conversed, the pair of connected vessels slowly descended towards the planet, eventually descending into the thick, pale-green clouds.

“We are at appropriate altitude for Raider launch,” the helmsman announced.

It was somewhat exciting, not knowing what to expect down below. By nature, Naada enjoyed surprises, just as she enjoyed crushing sudden challenges.

“Visibility is near zero,” Ullae, the raider’s pilot, announced. “We’ll be flying solely with instruments for the time being.”

“Let’s take things slow, then,” Aeril ordered, standing near her at the craft’s stern.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

As the raider descended, Aeril occasionally caught glimpses of Naada’s jetbike escort through the clouds. On one hand, it was good to know they weren’t alone in this soup; on the other, it was unnerving just how close they had to be in order to be seen.

Finally, the cloud cover broke away, and the aeldari found themselves staring at nothing but an vast, dark, featureless ocean as far as the eye could see.

“That’s… spooky,” Jastra whispered, almost to herself. Aeril found herself agreeing.

“Ullae, do your surface scans see anything?” she asked, looking over the pilot’s shoulder at her holographic readout.

“No. There’s… nothing…” she muttered, eyebrows furrowed. “There’s not a damned thing here but water. Definitely not anything belonging to our people.”

“Could it be a sensor problem?”

“Maybe. We’ll have to get much lower to find out.”

With a few brisk commands, she had a pair of her riders set out on a patrol a league away and another half a league away.

That left her and Waako, armed with axe and witch-lance respectively. She came about beside the raider as Waako circled and blew kisses at the crew.

“What now?” Naada asked, befuddled.

Around them, the waves bobbed and swelled. Naada liked a challenge well enough, but there was little she could do on the open sea. She had no particular love for it, as the people of Sanha weren’t mariners.

@ask-naada

Aeril stood with her arms crossed behind her back on the bridge of Javelin, her personal Nightshade-class torpedo destroyer, gazing out at the planet below. It was known as Zorathon and, despite supposedly being a Maiden World, exhibited exactly none of the traits common to stellar bodies terraformed by her ancient ancestors. There were no lush gardens here; only a vast, planet-covering ocean.

At least, that’s what Javelin’s sensors claimed. The entire world was covered by thick clouds obscuring the planet’s surface.

Aeril sighed. This was not what she was expecting when she was assigned to relic-gathering duty on a Maiden World. 

Once final arrangements were settled and the ships were linked, Naada stepped onto the Javelin’s bridge, followed by her retinue.

The mercenaries of Faahram wore shirts of red scales over their sleek, silvery armor. Round shields were slung behind their backs, along with their weapons: power axes and laser carabines. Their spiked helms were hung with aventails that hid their features, but for their mismatched eyes.

Had she? She usually tuned out anything that didn’t involve killing. “Briefed, just so. The Dracite seeks treasures, and her Archite paid Naada handsomely to watch over her.”

“To be honest, nothing is expected. The clouds coverage seems to be somehow interfering with our sensors. We know it’s covered in ocean, and we know the air is breathable, but that’s about all we can figure out.”

As they conversed, the pair of connected vessels slowly descended towards the planet, eventually descending into the thick, pale-green clouds.

“We are at appropriate altitude for Raider launch,” the helmsman announced.

It was somewhat exciting, not knowing what to expect down below. By nature, Naada enjoyed surprises, just as she enjoyed crushing sudden challenges.

@ask-naada

Aeril stood with her arms crossed behind her back on the bridge of Javelin, her personal Nightshade-class torpedo destroyer, gazing out at the planet below. It was known as Zorathon and, despite supposedly being a Maiden World, exhibited exactly none of the traits common to stellar bodies terraformed by her ancient ancestors. There were no lush gardens here; only a vast, planet-covering ocean.

At least, that’s what Javelin’s sensors claimed. The entire world was covered by thick clouds obscuring the planet’s surface.

Aeril sighed. This was not what she was expecting when she was assigned to relic-gathering duty on a Maiden World. 

Once final arrangements were settled and the ships were linked, Naada stepped onto the Javelin’s bridge, followed by her retinue.

The mercenaries of Faahram wore shirts of red scales over their sleek, silvery armor. Round shields were slung behind their backs, along with their weapons: power axes and laser carabines. Their spiked helms were hung with aventails that hid their features, but for their mismatched eyes.

Had she? She usually tuned out anything that didn’t involve killing. “Briefed, just so. The Dracite seeks treasures, and her Archite paid Naada handsomely to watch over her.”

@ask-naada

Aeril stood with her arms crossed behind her back on the bridge of Javelin, her personal Nightshade-class torpedo destroyer, gazing out at the planet below. It was known as Zorathon and, despite supposedly being a Maiden World, exhibited exactly none of the traits common to stellar bodies terraformed by her ancient ancestors. There were no lush gardens here; only a vast, planet-covering ocean.

At least, that’s what Javelin’s sensors claimed. The entire world was covered by thick clouds obscuring the planet’s surface.

Aeril sighed. This was not what she was expecting when she was assigned to relic-gathering duty on a Maiden World. 

Once final arrangements were settled and the ships were linked, Naada stepped onto the Javelin’s bridge, followed by her retinue.

The mercenaries of Faahram wore shirts of red scales over their sleek, silvery armor. Round shields were slung behind their backs, along with their weapons: power axes and laser carabines. Their spiked helms were hung with aventails that hid their features, but for their mismatched eyes.

Had she? She usually tuned out anything that didn’t involve killing. “Briefed, just so. The Dracite seeks treasures, and her Archite paid Naada handsomely to watch over her.”

@ask-naada

Aeril stood with her arms crossed behind her back on the bridge of Javelin, her personal Nightshade-class torpedo destroyer, gazing out at the planet below. It was known as Zorathon and, despite supposedly being a Maiden World, exhibited exactly none of the traits common to stellar bodies terraformed by her ancient ancestors. There were no lush gardens here; only a vast, planet-covering ocean.

At least, that’s what Javelin’s sensors claimed. The entire world was covered by thick clouds obscuring the planet’s surface.

Aeril sighed. This was not what she was expecting when she was assigned to relic-gathering duty on a Maiden World. 

Once final arrangements were settled and the ships were linked, Naada stepped onto the Javelin’s bridge, followed by her retinue.

The mercenaries of Faahram wore shirts of red scales over their sleek, silvery armor. Round shields were slung behind their backs, along with their weapons: power axes and laser carabines. Their spiked helms were hung with aventails that hid their features, but for their mismatched eyes.

Had she? She usually tuned out anything that didn’t involve killing. “Briefed, just so. The Dracite seeks treasures, and her Archite paid Naada handsomely to watch over her.”

🏛️  ruin

🌲  forest 

🏰  castle

🏠  house

🏫  school 

⛪  church

⚰️  cemetery 

🏨  hotel / motel

🏢  office building 

🚜  barn / farm building