[Eldar] An Ancients Perspective

And something that was thrown together for another project...

Kage

He came here to be alone, inasmuch as that was possible for him, finding solace in the verdant life that could be found in this place. He comes as he had done many times before; stands where he always stands. The biodomes, though only a small part of the Craftworld, were in many regards the very essence. Dynamic moments frozen and distilled from a time before the Fall and the events which lead up to it, when the People had been great. Yet they also harked back to a simpler time.

Ichanderil stood motionless, recalling those distance times. The biodomes were likened to the lungs of a living creature and at times like this it was almost believable. He felt himself moving within, his memories calling to him in a steady pulse that sang with the quiet voice of the Infinity Circuit, recalling the last time that he had stood upon a world, the ocean of atmospheric gasses swirling around him, the feel of cool moisture on his skin. Shaara, one of the first home worlds of the People, the ‘Children of Isha’ before they became the peripatetic ‘Children of the Stars’. Mentally shaking himself, Ichanderil brought himself back to the present. That was the difficulty for his kind, the manu tel’yaarae, the departed spirits of the ancients; memories of past times called to them as strongly as the material world that surrounded them outside of the Infinity Circuit.

Returning his gaze to the frenetic activity around the hillock, Ichanderil forced his perception through the psychotronic pathways of his wraithbone body, observing the material universe and excluding, for a time, the other senses available to him. The rise upon which he stood was one of many, each organised to form an circle with eleven points. The inner most face of each trapezoidal hill was terraced, so as to provide seating for the most traditional of amphitheatres. Within it moved the mercurial forms of the rillietann, the Harlequins as they were called now, though Ichanderil could remember an older name. Each of the ai-Men of the Men tel’cergorach was present, from the rillietann to the dour margorach, the esdainn and the athair, and the silent distaur. And standing off to one side, a lone arebennian, arms outstretched with palms uppermost, head tilted in such a way as to bring about a sense of judgement.

The Dance had begun while he was within, but Ichanderil thought that he would recognise the Dance that their movements evoked. Over the long millennia as both mortal and manu tel’yaara he was sure that he had seen all of the Dances and, indeed, had once seen the Great Dance, but these movements looked strange, unfamiliar. Intrigued, he looked on with a sense of interest that he had not felt in many turnings.

Moving with such speed as to almost defy the eye, their dathedi shields set as if for battle: when the rillietann moved the exploded into thousands of shards of colour, only stabilising into a single form when the figure was at rest. The dance appeared almost stroboscopic, each rillietann disappearing and reappearing in front of each of the twelve stands. Occassionally, the margorach would jump higher, their dathedi shield coalescing so that they could be seen at the apex of their leap.

Ichanderil temporarily focused inwards and outwards, allowing himself to look through the astral plane. Rillietann dances frequently had more than one layer to them, and it was left to the gifts of the individual to be able to perceive them. Thus Ichanderil perceived the psychic image presented by the rillietann’s dance, his confusion increasing. Tendrils of psychic energy joined each of the rillietann, lighter threads of energy trailing each dancer’s movements. The energy lines moved and writhed with the dance, projecting the story of that dance. Ichanderil saw the complex runes of the Peoples’ language flick by…

… Peace… Stasis… Introversion… Perversion… Separation… Confusion… Pain… Anger… A future born…

… Then, in an explosion of movement and psychic energy, the rillietann moved apart, small groups forming at the base of nine of the eleven terraces. Only Ichanderil’s and the arebennian’s remained empty. The groups took up a new dance, their dathedi shimmering and, without looking through the material sensors of his body, that they mimicked the forms of the three splinter races of Eldar. Their movements shaped the rune of each race, but each rune joined with that which the dance had formed previously. Ichanderil allowed his sight to focus upon the dancers.

“Manu tel’yaara!” called one of the rillietann, her body poised almost impossibly in the midst of a tumble. “Do you wish to Dance in the Shaping?”

Ichanderil let his gaze defocus for a second, rising in and upwards so that he could sense the aura of the woman, her spirit strength marking her as an athair. Brilliant swirls of colours presented themselves in an clear ovoid, sparks of energy discharging like solar flares and twisting into the swirling shape of the rune. “My kind has long since past the time when we throw ourselves around with such vigour, especially when the movements are so unfamiliar.”

The athair laughed suddenly, allowing her body to move through a series of slow movements as the others continued their acrobatics around her. “All Shapings have different patterns, even when the pattern is thought of as familiar; it is in their nature. Perhaps you will be a fulcrum, a point of stasis around which the Shaping shall be made? Who knows the form that a salka tel’kerta will take, nor the effects or cause that it produces.”

“Ah, the philosophy of sha’eil. Are you, then, arebennian or perhaps One Who Sees?”

“No, that burden lies with others,” her outstretched arm briefly indicating the arebennian who had not moved from his original position. “Come, take your position.”

Without knowing why he did so, Ichanderil moved forward to the centre of the amphitheatre and looked at the arebennian. With a jolt of energy he realised that the rune was complete, though he could not perceive it. Slowly the arebennian crossed his arms and inclined his head in a bow towards the wraithlord. He walked towards Ichanderil, his dathedi breaking up his outline. With a sudden leap, the arebennian leapt upwards with such speed that he completely disappeared. Around him the other rillietann, their dathedi cycling through the forms of the Eldar races, followed the arebennian, leaping upwards and disappearing.

The meaning was clear. Ichanderil was alone once again…