Arair Moonstrider looked up at the Mon’keigh up on the balcony, still chuckling to itself. And then at the sobbing, blood-soaked quadruped in the rough center of the chamber. And then back up at the Mon’keigh.

“...really?”

“Aww, don’t be such a spoilsport. Isn’t a rogue bio-engineered killing machine entitled to a little fun every once in a while?” Alosyus, the rogue bio-engineered killing machine in question, responded, speaking in a tone that made her contemplate murdering him and finding another Chaos Warband to bargain with, however briefly.

“Not if that “fun” endangers the very thing we’re here for.” Arair snapped back, struggling to keep her tone of voice level as she strode into the center of the room and snatched the quadruped up by the metal loop clamped around its withers. “Since you destroyed the Elements of Harmony—the very reason we started with conquering Equestria rather than a nation which would pose an actual threat—we need their bearers alive if we want to have even the slightest chance of recreating them.”

“Can’t you just use your energy-from-pain whatchamacallit to heal anything I do to her?”

“No.” She spun on her heels, storming toward one of the exits. “For the umpteenth time, only the Drukhari can do that, and I’m an Aeldari.”

“Oh, right…” Alosyus responded, in a tone that implied that he still didn’t get why she wasn’t willing to resort to the same profane torture rituals as her more sadistic kin, and couldn’t be bothered to care. “Still, I’m getting twitchy here, and there’s only so much entertainment one can squeeze out of forcing untrained xeno slaves to fight each other to the death. What do you expect me to do, just sit here and let myself be bored out of my armor?”

The Aeldari stopped in the doorway, clenching her teeth. Fury that put even the rage of Khrone’s deranged puppets to shame coursed through her veins. By her dead gods, she wanted to butcher that homicidal manchild of a Mon’keigh so, so, so badly.

She sucked in a long, long breath, bottling that hatred up deep inside her. “If you wish to sate your boredom, find a way to do so that doesn’t make achieving our goals here any harder.” And with that, she continued forward, carrying the filth-drenched quadruped with her.

Black Legion Base of Operations, Abandoned Crystal Mine

To say the tunnels beneath Canterlot were beautiful to behold didn’t even begin to do them justice. The subterranean cave system consisted of multiple yawning caverns, interconnected by a complex network of mine tunnels, all of it positively covered in luminescent crystals that bathed everything in a soft, shimmering blue light. And that hadn’t changed, even after multiple days’ worth of exposure to the corrupting effects of Chaos energy; something about those crystals seemed to make them push back against the touch of the Dark Gods, leaving the breathtaking crystals untouched by the their vile influence.

Arair hated it.

It wasn’t the appearance of the caverns she objected to, at least not in and of itself; she could find no fault in that, besides maybe how straight and smooth these supposedly unpolished, naturally-formed crystals were. But this place… it reminded her all too much of her old Craftworld, of something she’d lost forever. The crystals’ Chaos-repelling properties extended to her when she was down here, and the sensation of Daemons, dark energies, and worst scratching at her mental defenses in a futile attempt to get into her and warp her body and mind was lessened as a result, but in her opinion, the memories this place brought forth were worse than the assault on her mind… which was unfortunate for her, because the tunnels’ chaos-repelling abilities made them absolutely essential to her work.

Arair came to a stop in front of a stream, still holding the half-comatose, blood-drenched form of the yellow-furred quadruped in one hand. The cavern she was in wasn’t perfect for her needs, but it was close; far enough into the tunnels that none of the chaos corruption from the Black Legion’s fortress could trickle down, yet not so deep that getting to it was too much of a hassle. And it had an untainted water source.

The quadruped let loose a shriek of pain as Arair dipped her in the stream, and she couldn’t help but flinch away as blood-stained water splashed on her robe. At least the flowing water was making quick work of all the blood that had soaked into its fur…

Arair let loose a frustrated huff as she took notice of the quadruped’s back leg. Now that all that filth had been washed off, she could see that the “servitor” Alosyus had sicced on it had actually managed to injure it, and pretty badly at that. The limb was bent in multiple places and in directions that definitely weren’t natural, blood, pus, and other bodily fluids oozed from the crumpled flesh, and Arair was pretty sure she could see exposed bone.

The Eldar cursed under her breath as she yanked the quadruped out of the stream, turning toward a nearby wall of flat crystal adorned with Wraithborne restraints she’d installed there herself. They were crude, consisting of several cords each terminating in a few carabiner-esque clips, but they would have to suffice; she certainly didn’t trust whatever restraints those warp-touched Mon’keigh might whip up.

The quadruped, now fully conscious, began to plead in that oddly musical language its kind spoke as Arair began hooking the clips into its shackles and collar. The first time she’d heard one of these creatures spoke, she mistook their language for her own, but that was before she realized that it sounded like pure gibberish. She’d also realized quickly that their language wasn’t anywhere near as complex as the Aeldari lexicon, and wasn’t anywhere near as closely entwined with their body language and gestures. Beneath the superficial similarities to her kind’s language, it was actually far more similar to Low Gothic… though it at least sounded a lot better than the crude, blunt sounds of the Mon’keigh’s language.

Arair did her best to ignore the quadruped’s babbling as she finished securing it to the wall. With that, she reached into her cloak and withdrew a onyx-black, gauntlet-like piece of clothing, sliding it over her arm. Almost immediately, the Drukhari-made device sprung to life, many of the spiky bits along the glove’s armguard lifting up and revealing themselves to be articulated arms. With that, he reached down, and grabbed the quadruped’s injured leg.

The quadruped let loose an ear-piercing shriek as the device went to work, screaming at the top of its lungs as it began painfully cutting through its flesh and literally welding its shattered bone back together. Arair was a Bonesinger, not a Healer, which meant that she had to resort to this tool from her pain-loving kin in order to patch up wounds. The glove was something no Drukhari raider who had any clue what he was doing left Commorragh without, as it allowed those raiders to patch up their captives’ wounds and keep them alive for the trip to Commorragh. Unfortunately, it also had another purpose; giving those same captives a tiny taste of the pain and suffering they’d endure at the hands of their captors. As a result, it was designed to heal its target slowly, and to make the healing as painful for them as possible.

Arair squeezed her eyes shut, locking the quadruped’s wailing and shrieking out of her mind. For what felt like forever, she stood there, her fingers clamped around the injured leg as the device encasing those fingers cut and burrowed and welded, heedless of the thrashing creature it was ostensibly healing. It felt like an eternity had passed before the device finished reassembling the pegasus’s leg. The moment it did so, Arair let go of the limb, quickly withdrawing her gloved hand as she opened her eyes; the device was just as much a tool of torture as it was a tool of healing, and she didn’t want to traumatize the quadruped any more than she had to.

As the Aeldari Bonesinger began to undo the restraints, she took a moment to study what the device had done to the quadruped’s leg. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, and looked more like a proper leg, but long trails of furless flesh now curled their way up along the limb, slightly-charred scars running through the middle of each trail. Arair could tell at a glance that those scars would be permanent.

Stupid pain-loving sadists… She grumbled silently to herself, pulling the trembling, slightly pale quadruped down before turning around… and coming face-to-face with one of those oversizedMon’keigh in its tarnished white-and-gold battle armor, looming over her as its piercing red eyes bored into her skull.

Arair let loose a frustrated huff. “I do not have time for your misplaced xenophobia. Step aside. Now.”

“I’m not pissed at you for healing that xeno.” The armor-plated figure growled. “I’m pissed that you did a shit job of it. No anesthetic, no disinfectant, and there’s plenty of both if you ask around. Sure, people’ll grumble about wasting it on ‘filthy xenos’, but if you say you need them for whatever you and Alosyus are working on here, they’ll hand it over.”

“Chaos-touched medical supplies from a bunch of Mon’keigh who have sold their souls to the Dark Gods? No thank you.” Arair shot back, sidestepping the Astartes and storming out of the cavern, carrying the quadruped with her. She didn’t need some outspoken Mon’keigh telling her how to patch up another’s wounds.

Unfortunately for her, this Mon’keigh seemed hellbent on doing exactly that. “Hey, just because we’ve signed ourselves over to chaos doesn’t mean everything we touch is instantly corrupted.” The Mon’keigh snapped back, falling into step behind Arair. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but a Space Marine can’t always count on the Dark Gods to Skinshift them back into shape, and even when they do decide to, it's risky as all hell, not to mention how much it fracking hurts. Every crippling wound I can patch up is one that we don’t have to roll the figurative dice with by asking for our masters’ favor, and it would be kinda hard for me to do that if Chaos Corruption got into every injury I tried to treat.”

Arair glanced back at the Mon’keigh, noticing for the first time the servo-arms affixed to its backpack. Oh, apparently this one fancies himself a Healer, or at least the Mon’keighs’ equivalent to one. But still… “I can manage without.” Arair snapped, looking away as she continued making her way through the tunnels.

“Maybe. But I’m not sure she can.”

“...who?”

“The pegasus you’re carrying.”

...This Mon’keigh honestly thinks these moronic excuses for sentient creatures deserve proper pronouns? “What about it?”

“Oh for the love of… just look at her, for Ababbon’s sake! She’s pale as a sheet, is wearing a thousand yard stare on her face, and looks like she’s on the verge of going into shock, and that’s after your glove-thingy patched up just one broken leg. If Aloysius injures her worse—and make no mistake, he’s going to get her injured again—I don’t think she’ll survive being patched up by that thing.”

Arair paused in her stride, glancing down at the quadruped. Much as she was loathe to admit it, this Mon’keigh had a point. The quadruped’s fur was a touch paler than it had been and there was a vacant, battle-shocked look to its eyes. Yes, having this Mon’keigh see to the creature’s wounds risked allowing Chaos corruption into its body… but apparently this one wasn’t as hardy as its cyan-colored companion, and if it couldn’t handle the pain the glove brought, it would be dead either way. Sure, the Mon’keigh’s methods would undoubtedly be cruder than the glove… but they’d also wouldn’t be as traumatic for the quadruped. Hopefully.

Arair stopped and turned around, looking the Mon’keigh in its glowing red eyes for the first time. “Fine. Next time this thing gets injured, I will go looking for you and have you patch up her wounds. But if you get it killed, then I will personally ensure that you join it in death.”

The Mon’keigh just glared at her, crossing its arms. “…kinda says something that a soldier from an army that’s just as xenophobic as the fascist empire it broke away from is quicker to acknowledge her personhood than you.”

Arair just let loose a frustrated huff, turning away from the Mon’keigh once again. She wasn’t going to dignify that comment with a response.

Rainbow Dash sucked in a gasp as she jolted awake, the sudden motion causing pinpricks of agony to flare up all throughout her body. A barely stifled whiny of pain slipped from her throat as she staggered to her feet, her ragged technicolor mane brushing up against cold, hard iron bars. Her magenta eyes darted fearfully across her shadow-cloaked surroundings, everything slowly coming back to her as her eyes adjusted to the gloom, slowly revealing the tiny cage she was trapped in, the steel floor that cage was placed on, the walls looming almost impossibly high above her.

…the things that… that creature did to me… they had to have just been a nightmare, right? Slowly, hesitantly, Dash reached up with one hoof, toward her wings. Sure, the memories of her pain were somehow even more vivid than that one time she dreamed of being ripped apart by her best friend, but surely-

Stabbing agony flared across her sensitive plumage as her hoof slid over her feathers. She screamed in pain once again, her legs giving out on her as she landed on her side, causing more jolts of pain to shoot through her. For a long second, Dash just stayed there, on her side, the realization that the horrors she’d endured at the bony, talon-like appendages of that lanky, beady-eyed thing were all too real slowly-but-surely dawning on her.

Her eyes had fully adjusted to the lighting by now, and thus she could now see that her body was utterly covered in scars. Thin black lines snaked their way across her legs, her withers, and her restrained wings, each and every inch a nightmarish testament to the fact that the pain that thing’s glove had inflicted on her had been all too real. It almost seemed like that creature had taken a lit candle to her coat the way someone might take a paintbrush to a blank canvas.

“F-f-flutters?” She called out, hating how her voice trembled from barely-contained terror despite her best efforts.

Dead silence answered her.

“Flutters?!” Dash called out again, her heart starting to race as she glanced up at Fluttershy’s cage. Her friend was missing, gone without a trace.

…buck. A pained whine slipped from Dash’s throat as she pushed herself back to her hooves, doing her best to ignore the pinpricks of pain the motion fostered throughout her battered, abused body. She sucked in the deepest breath she could with those cold, unyielding metal loops around her neck and torso, and then threw herself forward.

A sharp wave of pain shot up her hoof as it collided with the bars. Rainbow Dash gritted her teeth, pushing through the pain as she drew her hoof back and slammed it into the bars again, and again, and again, but the door to her cage held firm. Shaking her head in frustration, she took two steps back, and then slammed her shoulder into the metal bars.

As it turned out, using her shoulder hurt more than using her keratin-sheathed hooves. A lot more.

“BUCK!” Rainbow Dash cried out as she staggered backward, another wave of sharp pain shooting through her body as she collided with the walls of her cage and collapsed into the corner. Her efforts hadn’t even dented the cold, hard metal; all she’d achieved was an increase in her pain.

“Flipping feathers…” Dash hissed through gritted teeth, blinking back tears. Celestia above, she hated this, hated how helpless she was. Hopefully Fluttershy’s okay… actually, why the buck am I even bothering to hope? Fluttershy’s probably strung up in that creature’s crystalline torture cellar, screaming her lungs out and pleading desperately for me to come and save her as it puts her through the same treatment it put me through. The cyan-coated pegasus shuddered as she recalled the glittering crystal walls, the almost painfully-tight shackles, the agonizing sensation of dozens of tiny blades slicing through her wings…

And then, almost as if some mad, thirsting god had chosen this exact moment to throw some fresh new horror Dash’s way, the door to the chamber opened, revealing a lanky silhouette in a frighteningly familiar red robe.

Rainbow Dash’s eyes went wide, shudders wracking her body as pure, abject terror flooded her mind. All of a sudden, she was a tiny newborn filly again, cowering fearfully beneath the covers of her bed, utterly convinced that there were monsters in the dark, just waiting for the chance to snatch her up and eat her whole. Except here, there were no covers to hide under, just this steel cage that simultaneously left her completely exposed and completely trapped. Here, the monsters were all too real, and she was already in their clutches. Rainbow Dash would’ve hated herself for being such a baby if she wasn’t too terrified to care.

There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, no way to fight, so Rainbow Dash did the only thing she could think of; curl up as tight as she could, burying her face in her belly as every fiber of her being shook like a leaf. Her eyes were burning from oncoming tears, more barely-stifled sobs slipping from her throat as her torturer came closer, and closer, and closer.

When this creature had come for her earlier, she’d been rebellious. She’d insulted it, called it names, kicked and thrashed and bit whenever the opportunity presented itself. All that bravado and defiance had quickly given way to screaming and begging once she’d learned firsthand what it could do to her, what it had done to her.

The cage door flew open with a clatter, and it was all Rainbow Dash could do to not let loose with a keening wail of despair and horror. She knew what came next; the creature would snatch her up, drag her down to the crystal caves, and then-

Something collided with her, something furry and large and possessed of proportions similar to a pony. A moment later, the cage door slammed shut with another CLANG.

Rainbow Dash cracked her eyes open, blinking in confusion as she caught sight of the creature turning away and storming out of the room… and the curled, trembling, yellow-furred form she’d deposited in the cage.

“F-fluttershy?”

The next thing Rainbow Dash knew, her friend had all but lunged at her, throwing her forelegs around Dash’s neck and back and burying her tear-stained muzzle in her prismatic mane. It was now even more of a struggle to draw breath, but Rainbow Dash barely noticed; now that Fluttershy was pressed up against her, she could feel the tremors wracking her body, could feel the hitches in her chest from the raspy sobs slipping from her throat.

“It’s okay.” Rainbow Dash whispered as she returned the hug, struggling not to cry. “It’s okay, I’ve got you-“

“…you have got to be kidding me.”

Rainbow Dash glanced up, eyes going wide. The gangly, pale-skinned creature had turned around and was advancing on her cage, its beady eyes glaring down at Fluttershy. It took Rainbow Dash a few seconds to figure out what it wanted.

This thing was a little like Twilight, in that it really, really hated it when things weren’t the way it liked them. It had set up specific cages for the two of them, and was adamant that the two of them be kept in their specific cages.

And right now, Fluttershy was in Rainbow Dash’s cage.

Fluttershy looked up toward the sound, the shudders wracking her body intensifying; she’d just come to the same realization. “No… please…” She whimpered, her voice so quiet Rainbow Dash could barely hear.

“Shut. Up.” The creature hissed in heavily-accented Ponish as it reached down and unlatched the cage’s door. It reached inside, its thin digits reaching for Fluttershy…

And were promptly knocked back by Rainbow Dash’s hoof.

“Don’t you dare touch her!” Rainbow Dash snarled, leaping over Fluttershy’s curled form and shoving her toward the back of the cage with her back hooves, dropping into a defensive crouch and baring her teeth as her tail swished back and forth.

“You have got to be kidding me…” The creature growled, its face twisting in disgust as it reached in once again, this time trying to grab Rainbow Dash and move her out of the way. Rainbow Dash just batted its limb aside, slamming it into the side of the cage and prompting a pained wince from it.

“Yeah, that’s what you get for trying to-“ Rainbow Dash never got the chance to finish speaking: the next thing she knew, the creature had slipped on that black glove and stuck it through the bars, its articulated metal arms promptly burying themselves in the Pegasus’s bound wing.

Rainbow Dash let loose an ear-piercing shriek as the articulated metal blades began to slice into her wing, sending agonizing jolts into her nerves as the arm they were attached to shoved her to the side. Her whole world quickly dissolved into a haze of agony, all sound lost to the roaring in her ears as her vision blurred…

And then, suddenly, the pain was gone. Rainbow Dash collapsed on the mound of fur in front of her, the taste of blood in her mouth as she sucked in long, gasping breaths.

A muttered curse in a language Dash didn’t understand reached her ears, her eyes refocusing to reveal her tormentor, standing just a few feet away and clutching its hand. It dawned on her that the blood in her mouth wasn’t her own; she’d somehow managed to instinctively reach out and bite down on the creature’s long, gangly digits, nevermind the debilitating pain that thing’s glove had been putting her through.

“Fine.” It hissed, speaking in Ponish this time, letting go of its hand and letting it fall to its side, sparkling glass-like growths already forming over the injuries it had suffered. It took Rainbow Dash another moment to make the connection between the crystallization and the creature’s blood; the instant she did so, she spat out as much of the creature’s alien blood as she could.

“You and your ‘friend’ will share a cage from now on.” The creature continued. “But bite me again, and I will move her to an entirely different room in this complex, and do everything in my not-inconsiderable power to ensure you never see each other again for as long as you live. Do you understand?”

Rainbow Dash spat out the last of the creature’s blood, before looking up at her captor, pure hatred burning in her eyes. She wanted to say no, to fly out the still-open door of the cage and punch this alien freak’s face in for even threatening to separate her from her friend. But then again, the aforementioned alien freak had made it very clear that she could make good on those threats.

“...yes.” She said slowly, letting her head droop in shame. “I… understand.” Every word was a mortal wound to her pride, but she’d do anything for her friends. Even this.

“Good.” And with that, the lanky alien slammed the cage door shut, spinning around and storming out of the room as Rainbow Dash curled herself protectively around Fluttershy’s still-trembling form.

Author's Note

In hindsight, I think I ended up writing Arair as a microcosm for the entire Aeldari race. She has the noblest of intentions and has lost a lot over the millennia, but she's also a consummate sociopath, way too haughty for her own good, and utterly convinced that her ends justify the means. Nevermind that the means, in this case, are pure Nightmare Fuel on a stick.

Since the focus of this Chapter isn't on the Scions of the Konic's forces, I'm not gonna post any statlines. Instead, I'm gonna give you a list of commom Thoughts for the Day the Scions put on their documents, to give you an idea of their general attitude and outlook on the galaxy.

• The absurdity of the universe always tends towards a maximum.
• No battle plan ever survives contact with the enemy.
• The only sin in combat is indecision.
• Bullets and batteries are replaceable; your life is not.
• The Emperor may protect, but that does not mean incoming fire doesn’t have the right of way.
• If the mission has developed into a fair fight, then something has gone very, very wrong.
• When in doubt, fire at will.
• Never, ever, EVER unironically say “what could possibly go wrong” or anything else along those lines out loud.
• There is nothing more satisfying that having your opponent take a shot at you, miss, and hit their ally in the crotch.
• No one ever won a battle by under-estimating the enemy, or by over-estimating his cohorts and allies.
• Anything worth fighting for is worth fighting dirty for.
• It is easier to beg pardon than to seek permission.
• Admitting defeat is only blasphemy against the Emperor if you use it as an excuse to give up.
• Superior thinking almost always prevails against superior force.
• Everything breaks, malfunctions, or wears out eventually. Plan for that.
• If the advance is going well, you are probably walking into an ambush.
• The only time suppressive fire works is when there is nothing to suppress.
• There are very few situations, circumstances, or conditions that cannot be resolved, remedied, or rectified by the proper application of a sufficiently sized, shaped, and placed high-yield explosive detonated in a timely manner.
• When in the presence of Necrons and in doubt, dismember and mutilate with extreme prejudice.
• When in the presence of Tyrannids and in doubt, kill them with fire.
• When in the presence of Eldar Harlequins and in doubt, do not shoot.
• There’s always a way, but it’s almost never going to be a way you like.
• If the enemy is within range, then so are you.
• If it’s heretical, but it gets the job done and doesn't require us to swear our souls to chaos, then it isn’t heretical.
• There is no such thing as a perfect plan.
• Booby traps and mines are equal-opportunity munitions.
• Never count on a fuse, timer, or other delayed trigger going off when it claims it will go off.
• An Honour Badge just proves that you were smart enough to think of a plan, stupid enough to try it, and lucky enough to survive.
• The enemy almost always attacks on two occasions: when they're ready, or when you're not.
• Always assume a retreating enemy is just falling back and regrouping.
• In war, important things are often simple, and simple things are often very hard.
• When you steal information from a tech-priest, it’s called tech heresy. When you steal information from the enemy, it’s called gathering intelligence.