Hound of Iyanden

I

Water, drip, drip, drip, incessant, a trickle of life, drip, drip.
Fire, pain, burning, screams, heat death and then darkness, peace.
Water, dripping, refreshing, life giving, washing away the pain, the soot.
Then light blinding to eyes so long trapped in darkness, the feel of the rain on a face and then conscious again.

The great hand gently lifted the crumpled bundle of rags out of the ruins, the giant warrior showing almost paternal tenderness as it lay it softly on the ground.
“Awake pathfinder, your soul is not ready for the stones yet”
The voice sounded in the battered scouts head, a telepathic communication from the great construct. The rags stirred and coughed and came to life, burnt and battered.
Memories flooded back bringing pain, an ambush, his team, his brothers trapped like rats in hole, they had held reaping a bloody toll of the Mon Kiegh until they came with fire and explosives burning and blasting the ruins where the pathfinders lay.
All dead now, all save him, the last.

The rain which seemed to fall constantly on this world, was refreshing, he was battered but mostly unhurt, his left hand cut bled slowly, weeping his life’s blood.
“It is a sign pathfinder; you are marked by Khaine’s bloody hand”
Again the faceless giant spoke to his mind
The robed warrior turned his hand over slowly focusing on the pattern of the dripping blood.
“Marked for what great one?”
“The vengeance Cu Iyanden, hound of Iyanden, marked for vengeance”
“I must return to our lines, report to the Autarch”
The Wraithlord laughed, “Return hound? No need for you have laid in the ground 5 days with your dead kin, as far as all are concerned you are deader than I am”
The pathfinder pondered this; his hand had now stopped bleeding.
“Worry not little one, being dead has it advantages; you are free to roam to hunt those who killed your kin. I see great deeds before you, great deeds. I am Ard Fertha , you may call upon me three times, now go hound and hunt “
With that the mighty construct turned to leave.
“Wait, who sent you? Where am I to start? I have so many questions?”
“Don’t we all, don’t we all”
With that the Lord turned and strode away into the gathering gloom the city, a city ruined by war, a air that tasted forever of smoke and promethium, a city for ever washed in rain but never to be clean, a city which was to be the hounds home and hunting ground.

short, sweet and entertaining.

I liked it, mostly because it all sounded so mysterious and prophetical. Very nice. It goes a bit quickly, but it isn't complicated and it easy to read.

I like the Wraith Lord with a sense of humour.

Only problem is that 'deader' isn't a word. I imagine Eldar to be very well articulated, so you might want to think about their language for your next work.

All in all, very nice. :)

Cal

short and to the point
not to bad