Part 1. Preparation
"You are privy to things few among your kind will ever know Wych", came the voice from inside the thick cloud of shimmering mist. Villerena sat silently on the floor of the room legs crossed, her body covered in strange brightly coloured symbols. The voice travelled around her, "We alone have enlightened you, and in turn you shall follow the path he has destined for you". "Use what has been given, become what you are destined to be", the voice fading with the dissipating mist.
Villerena opened her eyes and surveyed the small room. It was no more than a few metres across with a single door and no windows. Covering the walls and floor were the same brightly coloured symbols that covered her body. At her feet lay a pair of gifts from her formless ally.
For what seemed like an age, Villerena stared at the items on the floor. So understated, yet wielding such power, they would undoubtedly garner the desired attention. Villerena gently picked up the gifts and slowly rose to her feet, she was naked bare the glyphs covering her body.
In the middle of the circular room stood a small pedestal covered with a delicate black shroud. Villerena made the few short steps to the centre of the room and carefully lifted the dark covering. Greeting her was a long brightly coloured shaft topped with a pair of shining blue crystaline hands.
A glimmer of light in the city of darkness, she pondered.
Villerena carefully placed her gifts in the waiting hands of the pedestal and gracefully bowed to the monument. A slick smile then cracked her stoic face, "Tonight we dance", she proclaimed.
As she exited the small cold room she could hear the voice again singing throughout her mind,”Theatre”.
* * *
As per tradition, Villerena would meticulously select her quarry from the vast cesspool of captured Dark Eldar slaves. The sacrifices were never swift and tonight would be no different. Too much preparation had gone into the plan to have it fail now due to such a careless oversight. Villerena's high pitched, flinty voice pierced the silence of the caging area as she selected her sacrificial lambs. "Have that Tau and those mon-keigh prepared and brought to my chamber", she demanded.
A downtrodden human slave nodded meekly and unlocked the housing cages. Following Villerena were a small crew of four young wyches, armed and armoured in their usual attire. Their faces had been hidden by long black helms as to leave no doubt on who was in charge. The faces hidden by the long shadowy helms however, were no less menacing than the firey eyes of the bare faced Hekatrix.
There was little resistance from the chosen as the wyches entered the cells to collect them, for their fates had been sealed long ago.
"See to it that I am not disturbed"; she issued the order to her subordinates before striding swiftly down the corridor and disappearing into the darkness.
* * *
The three slaves had been bound to the walls in unmercifully awkward positions. All three were unconscious, yet her keen eyes could easily tell they were still alive.
Against the far wall stood a large heavy set table. Shrouded with the same black cloth which had been covering the mysterious pedestal. Bounding and pirouetting gracefully across the room, she whipped off the dark shroud revealing a beautifully sculpted benchtop, covered from end to end with a countless array of hand crafted blades. All manner of shapes and sizes lay on the tabletop, each one a marvel of deadly perfection. "Ahh my children", she chirped. "It has been too long".
Villerena gleefully picked up one of the wicked blades, twirling it effortlessly in her milky pale hand like some ancient parlour trick.
"For ten thousand years we have fed on the souls of others, a slave to our own creation". "An endless river of blood and terror has flowed in your name". "Know that our slavery to you is coming to an end, she sang. Villerena's voice intensifying with each line.
"My soul will never be yours!", suddenly screaming. "Do you hear me!" "No longer will I fear your name, she who thirsts!" "No longer!"
"SLAANESH!!!", do you hear me!, came the voice of the shrieking Wych.
Villerena quickly turned to survey her shackled quarry. "Wake from your dreams! Embrace your nitemare!" Villerena sang out. Three sets of horrified eyes suddenly burst open, wracked in a bonechilling terror.
Villerena's fiery rage was thick in the air. Her eyes ablaze with the passion of her belief.
She now clutched the blade tightly in her hand, the obvious strain showing in her muscles and she squeezed it. The three sets of unblinking eyes were fixed upon her.
Villerena effortlessly flicked the blade into the air, the pristine weapon tumbling end over end as it slowly rose up into the blackness, the shimmer of its gleaming edge rythmic as it pitched and yawed.
The wych stood unflinching as the dagger began its decent. As the weapon peaked and began to drop Villerena whirled herself into an iridescent tornado. Her painted body a blur of striking colours.
The cross blade seemed to vanish into the shimmering whirlwind that was Villerena, and from the vortex of blinding colours suddenly came an endless volley of shimmering blades. Torn from the table and launched like a fan of knives, each one striking its intended victim in precisely the right spot to inflict the maximum amount of pain.