Various 40k Microfics

(A/N: This microfic was done for a contest at this site: http://eatatau.smackjeeves.com/

Characters are his and used with his permission)

Keraiel had escaped just in the nick of time. The battle had been draining, and had it gone on any longer then the filthy Mon'keigh might have won. The Seer had met Yerald before; The Ordo Xenos Inquisitor was a cunning and relentless opponent, seemingly only one step behind her at all times. Yerald was, like all Mon'keigh, something of a mystery to Keraiel. Like all of her kind she was brutal and irrational, her motives unclear and confusing. Unlike the clear and almost crystalline thoughts of her fellow Eldar the human mind was a thing of discord and chaos. So rash and unpredictable were their actions that even the most careful predictions she tried to make could go awry. But worst of all were the machinations of the foul warp. The chaotic effect corrupted the physical world and changed the steady path of the future. Dire was the fate of those who did not heed the warnings in time. Craftworlds had been lost to those who were incautious and had been consumed by the dark forces.

Though her skill was increasing, Keraiel still had a long way to go on the path of the Farseer. Her sister Kareal had already taught her a great deal, but her skills were still lacking. Even at the height of her power could she grasp at the vaguest of potential futures, and even then she felt drained by the effort involved.

Keraiel took a deep breath and unfocused her mind. To walk this path was tiring and dangerous at the best of times, more so when distracted. She could not get that mon'keigh out of her head. Such arrogance! Such Defiance! Why she would not submit to the superior Eldar race.

What was it about her that was distracting? Perhaps it was disgust, or perhaps pity. For all the strength of her opponent's mind, it was trapped in that graceless, ugly form. The humans would call the Inquisitor shapely, with her buxom chest and tapering waist, but to the Eldar eye such things made her look deformed . Was her ample bust not excessive? What use did such things serve? Was it not uncomfortable?

But it would not do her well to be worked up about such things. Pausing to take a deep breath, she reached for a familiar piece of wraithbone; she had used this many times to train her abilities. It was a tool for focusing, a rune which would resonate and amplify her powers, and when she had mastered her skills she would be presented with the more powerful tools of a true farseer. They would strengthen her powers and protect her against the warp; but for now she had to content herself with what she had.

The cool surface of the delicate wraithbone rested against her palm, almost weightless in her careful grip. She brought it towards herself and concentrated, turning her psychic might upon it. Slowly first, then with greater and greater force, the power coursed through her into the wraithbone. Hands shaking, Keraiel brought the rune further down against her, to attempt to steady her grip and stem the flow of the warp through her. But no matter how hard she tried, she was still unable to purge the image of the mon'keigh woman from her head. Channeling her frustration, Keraiel focused even harder upon the implement, now glowing white hot. She could barely contain the power now, the roaring madness of the warp threatening to overflow from her very soul. Keraiel bit her lip as she tried to stop thinking about Yerald in this crucial moment, but the contained power was too much for her. The young Eldar screamed to the heavens as she released the energy from inside her, her shriek rivaling that of a howling banshee on the field of war. Spent, she felt the familiar piece of wraithbone fall to the ground with a small tinkle, already cooling to a dull red glow.

She would get even with that mon'keigh. No more would she haunt her thoughts, even in this holy sanctum. Next time she would be prepared.