Flowers and Nightshade
Sunset was slowly approaching as Atropa Asvadyss lead her Kabal and their allies through a shimmering webway portal, the environment splayed before them, ripe for the taking. Chains gently clanked as a slight breeze passed while humans in the distance remained unaware of their watchers. The humans moved slowly among the marsh, their steps squelching and sloshing as they searched through the grasses and flowers seeking useful resources. That was what made this stop in the webway so lucrative, there were at least two vital resources in one area, slaves and herbs of all varieties that could be easily converted into several useful combat stimulants. Even better was the fact that if one timed their raid just so, the humans would already have harvested the plants for them. It was almost enough to cause Atropa to smile. Almost.
The infantry arrived first, wyches quietly drifting through, though by the hands lightly thumbing at weapons it was apparent that some were hoping for more of a fight than the handful of civilians could offer. Others seemed to be nervous that perhaps this was all too easy to be true, that surely someone must be hiding in the distance. A wytch approached the archcon, inquisitive eyes framed by locks of amaranth hair that fell from the plait of hair atop her head.
"Shall we?" The Hekatrix's voice had a slight, metallic edge to it that Atropa had grown to appreciate, preferring to have her accompany the realspace raids far more than the Succubus who lead the Cult of Sweet Iniquity. A group nearing twenty began to pool behind the archon and her companion, each itching for direction. "Calm yourselves. Nepenthes," the archon turned her blank mask towards the Hekatrix, "-take your squad and begin by scouting the ruins to the right. If nothing else, it should provide a decent amount of over before we rejoin forces. You will be followed by a squad of kabalites." She turned away from Nepenthes to face the rest of the wytches, "And you all will head left. I will meet you at the first ruin you see there."
The soft whirring of jetbikes and venoms could be heard as they moved through the portal, followed by the light, lilting laughter of Harlequins. Atropa pushed forward and the blue vehicles glided away to clear a path, noting the intensity with which she gripped her Impaler, dripping with poison. The shuffling of limbs was an unnerving sight to behold as they continuously lunged forward from under the archon, suckers grasping whatever they could to pull the woman forward. The laughter slowed, and then in stopped as the troupe of Eldar saw her approach.
"This is not your fight," she hissed, her darkened lips curing behind her mask.
"No, perhaps it is not, but yet we find ourselves here!"
"Why do you insist on accompanying us? We do not require your assistance."
"Ah, such pretentiousness assuming we are here to assist. No, no, we are here but to watch my dear Archon, though you may wish to hurry, as it seems the humans have taken notice of us. "
An unseen eyebrow raised. The harlequins had aided them once before, by what seemed to be chance, perhaps they were seeking something more? No matter, if they chose to be spectators the Archon would not argue. They were however quite accurate on the informing, while Atropa had been directing troops the humans had notced something was wrong, and were now rattled. She faced the troupe master for but a moment longer before turning back to her troops. guiding the venoms to split and back up the troops of wytches while the jet bikes would take the center.
It was not long after the human's protectors arrived that battle had begun. Splinter fire rained down upon the marines as their bikes roared. At her urging, Asvadyss's troops surged forward, following the path she drew in the air with her impaler. The humans had scattered and regrouped, huddled and trembling as far away as they dare go. On the other side in the ruins of a once useful building wytches struggled to find the room to fight, but they adapted quickly under Nepenthes' cold orders. The Hekatrix's voice could be heard soaring over the field, it's high tones piercing the very air. This was not the first encounter that the denziens of Commoragh had with Blood Angels, as made clear by Nepenthe's jeering insults slung at the priest as well as the sanguinary guardsmen's head that hung limp at Atropia's side.
The jetbikes crashed, and the venoms began to fall to the fire of the space Marines, but the wytches danced on despite the fall of their brothers and sisters at arms. The Hekatrix and Priest circled each other a moment before lunging. Nepenthes sidestepped the space marine's attacks, taking the moment to plunge her blade between his armor. Her cold eyes glared down at him as she began to smile, her blade leaving quite the deep wound. She let out a victorious cry, answered by her comrades who began to push forward with an even greater amount of blood-lust and speed, unfettered by the blows that managed to even scrape them.
As she watched the battle around her, Atropa growled at the losses. They were few compared to the marines, but still aggravating. The tentacles below her tensed as she looked over her troops, approaching the edge of the ruins they were behind, and she saw the man who seemed to be leading the charge. She directed more splinter fire towards the bikes, who seemed to retreat to gather their wits. She continued to move forward as she hear perhaps the strangest challenge issued to an Archon. Brushing aside thoughts of correcting the poor man on her name and the state of her armor she instead sought to correct him on her skill. She was not the strongest of beings, that she knew, but if she struck just right...
He rushed forward and in a blindly fast sweep she skewered him upon her blade. From there it was simple to dismount the Captain. He landed with a distinct thud, still caught upon the impaler which was quite firmly lodged. Tendrils moved toward him as Atropa towered over the man, emotionless masks staring at one another. She twisted the weapon slightly, and though he murmured no grunt of pain, she knew that the experience was unpleasant, and even the thought of the grimace that must have crossed his face gave her solace.
"Now, now," she murmured at the pinned marine, "I would have thought that even a dull soldier such as yourself would know that flowers bloom alongside even the deadliest of nightshade." The poison from her blade surely had made its impact by now, so she wrenched the blade from the man's chest as violently as she could manage before leaving without another word to the Blood Angel.
The wytches fought off the remaining bikes as Atropa looked across the battlefield. Nepenthes' wytches seemed to already be rounding up the civilians and resources, grinning to themselves like giddy children as they prodded the newly slaved humans forward. The harlequins chatted idly among themselves as the Archon approached, followed by Kabalites bearing the bodies of the fallen, hoping that Ludic could restore them, or at the very least use them for spare parts. Her eyes scanned the field, the loss of the jetbikes and the venoms still tugging at the edge of her mind.
"Move aside or open a portal if you insist on standing in my way," Atropa seethed, a mettalic edge to her voice.
"A fine fight that was," the troupe master said smiling, flitting on the line between sincerity and facetiousness and he flitted about the archon, "-but I thought that you were known to take trophies from your raids?"
