View Full Version : The Doom of Malan'Tai - fan fiction part 1

Lord Squidar
19-10-2010, 16:52
Hi Guys,

I am busy working on my fluff for my eldar army, the survivors of craft world Malan'Tai. This is the first part of the tale that leads them to this fate... More will follow :cool:

Farseer Adaraan adjusted his long flowing white robes as he entered meeting hall. The room was at the top of the tallest spire in the Dome of Thoughtful Contemplatation, and looked over the entire craftworld of Malan’tai. It was from here that the Seer Council, along with the young king, decided the fate of the star born vessel and eldar homeworld. Adaraan bowed solemnly to the council, its members made up eldar from the Path of the Seer and the lone Exarch Young King. Adaraan knew all by name, revered mystics all, some well on their way to joining with the craftworld in the Dome of Crystal Seers. The Exarch, Hashad of the Warp Spiders, sat in robes of blood red with a wreath of holly around his head, runes painted in white daub on his exposed torso. Adaraan knelt on one knee before the council. Farseer Maimaedr spoke first, her soft and ancient voice emboldened by the subtle acoustics of the perfectly oval chamber.
“Farseer Adaraan, well met. You are aware of the task ahead of you, correct?”
“Farseer Maimaedr, council members. I have known this is my path for some time now. I have prepared myself for many months for this coming trial.”
“Good. Then let us tarry no longer”
Adaraan stood up and walked over to one of the walls of the chamber, and pressed his hand against the wraithbone wall. A doorway opened up as if out of nowhere, and Adaraan stepped into the darkness. As he turned, the oval arch closed again, and he was left alone. Not so alone he though, for the council members watched this room from without, sensing all that he saw. This was the point of the Chamber of Eternal Solitude.

Adaraan, still in darkness, sat cross legged on the floor, and willed light into being around the chamber. It too was oval, like the inside of an egg, and stark white. Adaraan took up his meditation poise and began to repeat the mantras to calm his mind. After several minutes, his mind was still, and safe enough to stretch out into the warp. The white oval room disappeared and his body became weightless in his minds eye. He floated above the craftworld and into space, free from earthly burdens. His spirit soared, gaining speed with every nanosecond, until all the galaxy was a blur before him, and others like it appeared as pin pricks of light in the darkest veil. Adaraan stopped himself with a thought, and looked out at all creation. Here, in the darkest depths of his mind, was the source of the eldar’s power. The Great Sea of Strands. Even as he looked on, each galaxy began to blur in the void, leaving a trail of light behind it. Each of these blurs was a strand of fate, a sky of infinite possibilities, unknown and mysterious. The thread belonging to the children of Eldanesh burned brightly in the darkness, and Adaraan pulled his body toward it with mental effort. The thread was no thicker than his thumb, but this belied its heat and golden energy. Adaraan traveled along the thread, and experienced memories not his own. They were deep and dark, memories of the time of creation of the eldar, that were only remembered in half light and interrupted slumber. He saw glimpses of the first war in heaven, of Khaine in his wrath, and Asuryan in his wisdom. Adaraan remarked that at different intervals on the thread, strands branched off. Some wove their way across the stars and joined up with the main cord later, whilst others frayed, thinned and were shorn. Adaraan felt the death of Eldanesh as a sharp pain in his side, and then was filled with overwhelming joy as the eldar race was freed to the stars. As a farseer, Adaraan was prepared for what came next. The thread dimmed and grew thin as he followed the fate of the first war against the Necrons. Adaraan steeled his mind as the grief of billions of eldar mother at the news of their dead sons and daughters waved over him. The thread wore even thinner, and the light nearly went out, but suddenly it began to gain strength. As much as the grief the first war was dangerous, the coming emotions were far more deadly. Adaraan began to repeat the sigils of warding, and his protections were barely in place in time. Pleasure, pure and simple began to wear at his mental defenses. Images of a civilization, basking in glorious idleness and excess, flowed into being. The moans of thousands of pleasure slaves grated against his senses, and he quickened his mantra to counter the effects. The thread grew thick and and became slack and silken in his hands. As suddenly as before, a sharp pain pierced his heart, and the thread was rent into two smaller ones, and a third thicker one almost beyond sight. This pain was the birth of She Who Thirsts, and the death of the old eldar civilization. Adaraan stumbled in the dark for a bit, the pain of the Fall almost too much for his mind, but eventually his fingers groped a strand in the darkness. Its thread was course and barbed, and its touch bought forth tastes of blood and excess. The thread of the lost kin, the dark eldar. He knew the thread belonging to the various craftworlds would not be far, and soon he found them.

Adaraan quicken his pace now as the thread became a cord made of hundreds of bone white threads, each representing a craft world. Some flew out of line with the cord, others simply ended into nothingness. As the centuries of racial memory rolled by, Adaraan experienced more images. For but a moment, he was an aspect warrior, knee deep in the bodies of his foes, and then he was not. He followed the strand of Eldrad Ulthan, the famour farseer of Ulthwe, and remarked at how thick and winding his fate appeared, almost doubled back on itself in a helix. Finally, after what seemed an age, Adaraan found the thread of Craftworld Malan’Tai.

Adaraan plucked the cord and freed Malan’Tai from the rest of the fates and began to view it on its own. He saw visions of Malan’Tai, grown by the bone singers from the older craftworld Biel’Tan. Some 5000 years ago, it split off and began its own journey amongst the stars. He felt the birth of every eldar on Malan’Tai, and grew sad. Although the craftworlds teemed with lift, it was but a fraction on a fraction of what the eldar had once been. Truly theirs was a dying race. Adaraan saw images of battles, history his own family had been part of over the long years. He saw himself, almost 3000 years ago, beginning to tread the path of the warrior. Further he traveled, often seeing images that he had seen or heard himself. Such was the way of the mind. Adaraan began to see the end of the thread, and his heart was filled with dread and sorrow. Instantly, memories of the tales of other Farseers, journeying with in their minds, had come to this point. This was the hundredth time he had seen the end of the strand, and still it unsettled him. The thread of Malan’Tai traveled to a point in space through which no light could penetrate. There was only impenetrable blackness, no thoughts, no emotions, nothing. Adaraan had been sent, as the first of Malan’Tai’s Farseers to penetrate the blackness, to seek the doom that awaked them all. All of the strands led to this point, no matter what could be done to avoid a fate, always the strand led to this point. Adaraan steeled himself and pushed forwards, his mind breaking the surface of the blackness. As he breached the barrier, his mind was rent with images, sights sounds and smells of utter death. The Doom of Malan’Tai.

19-10-2010, 17:12
Moved to Stories and Art. Please post in the appropriate area.

Shas'o Gavner'Elan
19-10-2010, 19:08
Enjoyed what you've written. Really in depth descriptions, very Eldar-y! There's only a few minor spelling mistakes, and it's kinda a bit TOO in depth and rambling at points, but overall it's a very well written introduction, and I want to find out what happens to Malan'Tai! :D

20-10-2010, 03:20

This was well written, with some nice description, and I see you've read up on eldar (Thorpe's "Path of the Warrior"? The Dome of Thoughtful Contemplation sounds familiar :p).

If it was the start of a story, it's a bit slow and boring, but as a stand-alone piece of fluff, it's nice.

Couple of comments:

* I was confused when you said there was only the Seers and the Young King present, then he bows to the Warp Spiders' Exarch. I figured out you meant the Exarch is the Young King, but perhaps if you use his name when you first identify him it will avoid confusion (Hashad, the Young King,...).

* Adaraan is a nice name but immediately reminded me of Aldaraan. Maybe that was deliberate as something bad seems to be coming to your craftworld ;). Otherwise I would change just one of those a's into another vowel.

* I'm not sure "remarked" is quite the right verb to use when he is traveling along the destiny strands. It sounds like he is chatting to someone else nearby. Maybe "noted" or "witnessed", or just plain "marked".

* Near the end you have a couple of typos: "lift" instead of "life", "fraction on..." instead of "fraction of a fraction...", "with in" instead of "within", "awaked" instead of "awaited".

Otherwise, nice job. This is a perfect nice little bit of fluff it's cool to have handed to me by players I meet for pick-up games. I might have to tell you about my own tragic craftworld sometime...


Lord Squidar
20-10-2010, 04:20
thanks for the feed back guys.

It is a bit long winded, will try make the second part quicker and more action based, going to be writing it tonight.

The spelling mistakes are what happens when you work as an IT tech support guy for two years after Uni! I am glad I started writing again, I need to resharpen my skills.