1.  
2.                         ‘THIS XENOS KILLS HUMAN MEN’
3.  
4.  
5.  
6.  
7.                                         ‘BE VIGILANT’
8.  
9. Printed proudly between the two lines was the image of one of the aforementioned horrible man-killing xenos, their fangs red with blood. It was holding the drained corpse of a brave soldier of the Imperium in its wan claws, his face caught in throes of agony. Wet hair sticky with gore clung to its wax-like skin. Gangly, elongated limbs spread out along the ground. All-in-all, Cadet-Commissar Sardin was sufficiently disgusted.
10.  
11. “Good job, Trooper,” he declared to the soldier lugging the bucket of adhesive and a brush. “Now we just need to get the other ninety-nine up around base.” The other Trooper, standing behind the Commissar and holding the posters, gave his compatriot the sort of vacant, emotionless stare that betrayed the myriad of complex emotions one develops being ordered around by an officer while off-duty.
12.  
13. “Of course, sir,” Trooper Laughlin answered. Trooper Casey folded the fat stack of posters under his armpit and shuffled on towards the next wall that looked ripe for an OPSEC message. The evening was still young, and if they could get these posters up fast enough he was sure they would have enough time to join the rest of the boys for this month’s underground pict-mag swap. He had gotten tired of his copy of ‘HOLY ORDER OF THE ANOINTED OIL - 997.M41 EDITION’.
14.  
15. “It’s just--” Laughlin hesitated as he walked alongside Casey, Cadet-Commissar Sardin not far behind. “--don’t you think this would go faster with Lee and Trigg?”
16.  
17. Trooper Casey snapped at his partner with a mixture of concern and fear. “Laughlin!”
18.  
19. Clearly there was something amiss here, and Sardin had picked that up immediately. “What is wrong, gentlemen?” The two Guardsmen stopped in place, a defense mechanism when a Commissar speaks. Both turned to face him like children caught stealing candy.
20.  
21. “It’s Lee and Trigg, sir,” Laughlin continued. Trooper Casey winced. “They went off a few hours ago to that dolmen circle twenty kilometers from base, and they haven’t returned.”
22.  
23. “Do you suggest,” Sardin said, his eyes narrowing, “that these fine men are being derelict in their duties?” Laughlin’s mouth went agape at the word ‘derelict’.
24.  
25. “Oh no, sir! They said they were going to go out and catch one of those xenos creatures-- hogtie ‘em and bring them back home for the Emperor, sir.” Casey unraveled one of the posters and held it up for the Commissar while Laughlin pointed at the beast, his finger landing on one of the alien’s shriveled, desiccated teats.
26.  
27. Cadet-Commissar Sardin spat out a chuckle into the pair’s faces. “What makes them think they would capture a xenos out there?” He shook his head at the thought dismissively, lifting his Commissar’s cap and running a hand through his hair before placing it back down perfectly square on his head and puffing out his chest. “Since I assume they did not ask for permission to undertake this mission, I will have to go retrieve them myself and render discipline accordingly.”
28.  
29. The two Troopers looked at each other sideways, paralyzed in place. Trooper Casey nodded in approval. “Of course, sir. We’ll continue placing these posters.”
30.  
31. Sardin dismissed the two and went off in search of a vehicle to conduct himself over to the dolmen circle. It was almost a minute after he had turned a corner that the Troopers muscles finally relaxed.
32.  
33. “What,” Casey whispered, “in the name of the God-Emperor, do you think you are doing?”
34.  
35. “Relax,” Laughlin assured his friend. “Trigg and Lee got their leave chits approved for tonight. They’re out in town right now. And WE can go trade some pict-mags at the swap.”
36.  
37. “Then what about when he comes back empty-handed?” Casey scanned each and every shadow. There could’ve been a Commissar hiding in them now.
38.  
39. “Then it will have been one big misunderstanding,” Laughlin explained, walking up to a decidedly posterless wall and slathering it with the foul-smelling mixture from his bucket. “And if that doesn’t work, at least you’ll die with a copy of ‘Holy Sisters of the Anointed Oil, year 998’.”
40.  
41. -----
42.  
43. Ennalia wanted badly to take a bath. It had been yet another day of spying on the humans, and the stink of their settlements always carried on the wind and stuck directly to her skin like it was a magnet. She could boil some water, maybe. Scour herself. It was no use, though. How would she wash her hair? And the smell would only return tomorrow. Even out here, kilometers away from civilization, she swore she could catch their scent wafting on the breeze. The Eldar wrinkled her nose in disgust.
44.  
45. “That’s quite unbecoming of you,” Aduaine chastised from her side of the tiny camp. It was second nature for Eldar to establish their superiority amongst themselves (and the other races). Since Aduaine had a few years on Ennalia, she had established her dominance the second they landed for reconnaissance duty on this world. It had become a daily occurrence for her to instruct Ennalia on how to conduct herself; this was all despite their isolation from any other of their kind that would care about such things. For being ostensibly on the Path of the Outcast, there sure was a lot of control being forced on her. Ennalia would take orders from the Commander readily-- her respect for him knew no bounds-- but being bossed around by someone she considered her peer was beginning to wear on her.
46.  
47. Ennalia had finally gotten the last piece of her mesh armor off and had consigned herself to another night on the bed roll in her tent. The roll was about as comfortable as sleeping on the forest floor. She was counting the days until this mission would be over and she could return to the comparatively soft embrace of her sleeping pod in their War-Cell’s Cruiser. The thought that some of her kind spent years sleeping in circumstances like this made her shudder.
48.  
49. Really, her and Aduaine were Outcasts in name only. A Biel-Tan War-Cell was merely another part of the Craftworld’s empire-building arm that the Inner Council could tell foreign diplomats were ‘pirates’ or ‘raiders’ on account of them not technically being under control of the Craftworld. Yet, here they were: volunteers scouting out Maiden Worlds and killing mon’keigh colonists with military tech. Ennalia certainly wasn’t the one who paid for her shuriken catapult.
50.  
51. She could hear the diplomats covering for them now. ‘Oh no, Biel-Tan didn’t kidnap and ransom that defenseless ship of Tau colonists headed for that lush, unoccupied world. It was a group of extremists who are in no way sponsored or condoned by us. Our Craftworld’s rune was on a flag in the video’s background? The symbol has simply been co-opted by certain radical elements, you must understand…’
52.  
53. Her companion got up and wandered over to the sole jetbike the two shared to get around the area.
54.  
55. “Where are you going?” the junior outcast inquired. “You aren’t planning on scouting at night again?” Aduaine had been doing that a lot lately, which was odd because there wasn’t any data they couldn’t collect during the day just as safely. The mon’keigh had no idea they were here, and with any skill they never would. Her companion paused and looked back at her. After one slow blink, she turned and crossed her arms. Clearly, there was something she was unsure she wanted to share.
56.  
57. “Can you keep a secret, Ennalia?”
58.  
59. The outcast nodded and stood up in her bodyglove. Was she going to be made privy to some secret responsibility the Commander entrusted with Aduaine and not with her? Ennalia was ready-- she was -so- ready to prove herself. Maybe if she performed well enough, she could be a member of the firing squad the next time they brought prisoners onboard!
60.  
61. “Of course!” the junior gushed, approaching. Aduaine grinned at that.
62.  
63. “Well, I suppose I could tell you,” the senior Outcast teased, her eyes narrowing, “but I think it would be better to ask you, since I trust you so much.” Aduaine leaned in for the next sentence, keeping Ennalia on the tip of her toes.
64.  
65. “Do you want to go capture a mon’keigh and fuck it?”
66.  
67. Ennalia’s heartbeat shot up at least three times its resting rate at the conclusion of the question. Her senior was a hypocrite! A scandalous, mon’keigh-lover hypocrite!
68.  
69. “Ew-- no!” was all the Eldar could respond with. Aduaine laughed.
70.  
71. “If you think it’s so disgusting why are your ears red?”
72.  
73. The outcast hid both her ears behind her hands, but the damage was already done. They were so hot they could have been steaming in the evening’s chill.
74.  
75. “It’s just gross. They’re animals.”
76.  
77. “We’re not on a Path right now. It’s the perfect time to try weird things while we still have a chance,” Aduaine lectured while she placed her hands on her hips. “Even something dirty like this.”
78.  
79. Ennalia backed away with her arms crossed and sat back down on the camping stool with a huff.
80.  
81. “No-- gross. You can go do it, but I won’t be joining you.”
82.  
83. The senior outcast turned back towards the bike and mounted it. “Fine,” she answered imperiously, activating the runes and making it hover a meter off the ground. “But you will have wished you did.”
84.  
85. The jetbike hummed off into the night and Ennalia climbed into her tent, sickened.
86.  
87. -----
88.  
89. The forest finally thinned and Aduaine was able to catch sight of the standing stones out in the distance. Every few seconds, a break in the clouds overhead would allow a ray of moonlight to shine through and glimmer along the top of the stones. Otherwise, the night was exceptionally dark, which was perfect for the Eldar. She had left the jetbike hidden a ways back into the brush and continued the rest of the way on foot. It was important that she did not spook or unsettle the mon’keigh before she could subdue it.
90.  
91. The murmurs and folk-tales among this region’s inhabitants implied this ring of dolmens was in some way inhabited by fae spirits at night. Their child-like innocence caused Aduaine to smile. It was good that the humans focused their attention on an unimportant ring of rocks rather than searching several hundred kilometers away, where this world’s actual Webway portal sat surrounded by ancient growth. It was one of the first places she and Ennalia had visited upon being dropped off on their assignment. The dense foliage that surrounded the gate made it a terrible place to launch a full-scale attack from, but there was much to appreciate about that temperate grove. If the trees could talk, would they have been able to tell her stories of The Fall?
92.  
93. Oh--  but there was the sound of a mon’keigh combustion engine belching its fumes out into the darkness. Perhaps, if the Great Fool blessed her, it would stop here and she could finally score the prey she had been waiting so patiently over the past few nights for!
94.  
95. -----
96.  
97. Cadet-Commissar Sardin turned the key in the ignition off and stepped out of the general-purpose vehicle, its headlights shutting abruptly off and plunging the circle of stones into inky darkness. He stumbled, groping blindly around the passenger side and finally finding the flashlight he had brought. A weak ray of piss-colored light illuminated the hunks of rock as he approached them with his laspistol drawn. Surely he wouldn’t have to use it to bring the men back, but he hoped it inspired the fear of the God-Emperor in them when they realized how much trouble they were in. Shirking their duties to go chasing ghosts at some stone circle? They were Imperial Guardsmen, damn it-- not the farming hicks that made up a majority of this planet’s thin population. Although, now that he was here, it was a little odd that Sardin had not seen another vehicle parked nearby…
98.  
99. A chunk of rock dropped from the top of a dolmen and landed at his feet, causing the Cadet to practically jump out of his boots at the thud; in the eerie silence the soft sound had been magnified tenfold. Now, all he could hear was the sound of his heart beating in his ears. This whole situation seemed off.
100.  
101. “Lee! Trigg! It’s Commissar Sardin,” he called hoarsely into the shadows guarding the way into the center of the circle. “You can come out now. It is time for you to return to base, gentlemen.” The Cadet-Commissar’s voice was small, surrounded by the silicate giants. Determined not to leave empty-handed, he passed under one of the gray gates, further into the cursed henge’s interior.
102.  
103. Something from out of the darkness shot out and kicked his laspistol clean out of his hands. Sardin dropped his torch and drew his combat knife, but slender tendrils wrapped around his neck and battered him violently upon the rock wall. Both his back and his knife hand were pinned on the sandstone by unmoving claws. He groped at the mass for some purchase, but his fingers were sliding off its smooth surface. The Cadet closed his eyes and waited for the thing to tighten its grip and finish him off; it made no such effort after a few prolonged seconds, and he cautiously opened them.
104.  
105. A foul xenos had a hold of him. Its own eyes were the first thing he noticed, because they reflected the dismal light back at him. They were nothing like the ‘horrible pools of abyssal ocean’ the instructors embellished in the Progenium-- instead they were pale blue and their ghastly pupils revealed some measure of-- if he could even use this word to describe them-- humanity.
106.  
107. “What did you do with Trigg and Lee?” he croaked, prying at the thing’s fingers on his throat with his free hand.
108.  
109. The creature’s response burned his ears with its otherworldly accent. “I do not know this ‘Trehg’ or ‘Lih’ you speak of, mon’keigh.” It spoke in a soft but assured voice. “There is only you, human. And you will do nicely.”
110.  
111. That last remark did not sit well with Sardin. It was one of those pirate xenos that took captives! He desperately looked for ways to escape, but the thing’s hold on him was like iron. Sardin himself was tall (all the better to inspire your Guardsmen), yet the creature was looking down upon him intensely like he was a specimen to be examined. Cadet-Commissar Sardin mustered the rest of the bravery left in his constrained body.
112.  
113. “I will not submit to you, xenos witch! By the God-Emperor, I will fight you every last breath I take!”
114.  
115. The Cadet had made his final prayers to the Golden Throne and accepted his death (or worse!) at this alien’s hands. His captor hoisted him off the rock and slammed him into the damp grass. Pinning his chest with its knee and snapping out the hand that was holding his neck, the thing yanked the cap off his head before he could blink. Mockingly, the xenos placed it gently on its own raven hair and grinned, sending Sardin’s stomach roiling.
116.  
117. “I know.”
118.  
119. -----
120.  
121. She had sung the ‘Hymns for the Rebirth of the Ancient Days’ in her head two times now laying in bed, but Ennalia could not calm down enough to sleep. Even her favorite chant, ‘Clashing of Swords’ didn’t silence the young Eldar’s overactive heart thumping inside her head. She should have stood up for herself back there! What if Aduaine’s experimenting cost them the mission? What if the mon’keigh were alerted of their presence here? The worst question of all was one Ennalia couldn’t help but wonder. What if she had joined Aduaine? Just the thought of it made her body heat up again and her skin crawl in disgust.
122.  
123. The outcast unzipped her bodyglove so she could breathe. The ragged scar that ran from one end of her stomach to the other itched greatly. That terrible wound she had received while serving as a Guardian during the battle of Kildairin was still healing years later. The mon’keigh sergeant’s chainsword had rent a piece of her which had proved especially difficult to mend by the Healers. It proved equally as difficult for Ennalia to heal the blow to her ego she had received alongside it. She ran her fingers along it gingerly, hating the discord it played along her otherwise smooth skin.
124.  
125. Hating the mon’keigh.
126.  
127. What if she had joined Aduaine tonight? How would the mon’keigh touch that scar? Ennalia shivered at the thought, gripping the soulstone in the bracelet around her neck tightly. The mon’keigh would grab and squeeze at her with its slimy hands and its simple mind. Would it force her onto her back and press itself on her to mate? No-- it would push her onto her knees and drive her ears into the dirt. The hand on her scar slipped further down her abdomen toward an equally testy area. The mon’keigh would touch her there, too. Slobber on it with its nasty spit; or just as likely not.
128.  
129. More likely it would skip that step and penetrate her like a beast. The grimy skin and coarse hair would rub all over her, shoving her against the ground. The foul thing would ravage her until her knees were sore, not stopping when she pleaded for it to let up. Two fingers slid into her burning sex and she spilled a sharp gasp. The stupid mon’keigh would keep going even when told to stop-- its brain was too small to grasp such concepts when it got into heat. Even a Gyrinx could tell when its master wanted it to cease its play, but the mon’keigh was below even that. Its turgid, vile slab would plunge in and out of her with such force it would feel like her insides were being rearranged in the shape of its nauseating cockhead. And when it had finally had its fill of her, the creature would flood her with virile spooge from its twitching orbs. The revolting, chunky spunk would mix inside her with its greasy precum, and-- and--
130.  
131. The Eldar tensed up, her throat letting loose a pitiful groan into the bedroll. With barely a half a minute to accept the relief of release, post-orgasm clarity washed the horniness from her mind but not the corresponding images.
132.  
133. Oh, Isha. She was so fucked up.
134.  
135. The outcast removed two slick fingers from between her thighs and curled up into a ball, drawing the bedroll around her tighter as warm tears dampened the sheets.
136.  
137. -----
138.  
139. How many times had the human come by now? Aduaine plopped the thing’s semi-flaccid member out of her, frustrated. If only it would cooperate with her, this night would be going a lot better. She had thoroughly enjoyed unwrapping the struggling mon’keigh like a gift, and by now its lack of fight was aggravating. She thought that human males were supposed to find Eldar irresistible? This one was just lying there with a forearm over its eyes, sucking in the air in raspy breaths like a toad. Her hands were on its chest-- and its heart was barely beating at a rate she would deem quick! Aduaine lifted her hips off its pelvis and migrated them up to its face again. At least its tongue was broader than their male’s, if not significantly more ponderous.
140.  
141.  
142.  
143. Sardin groaned as the xenos witch once more lowered her searing lips onto his face. Its whole body was like a chem-heater in the numbing cold of the night. Goosebumps formed on areas that had previously been warmed by her, and the alien began her creeping grind across his sorry mug. Its discharge leaked out onto his lips and made his skin tingle. Before long, lost in the fiery confines of the creature’s legs, his own tongue betrayed him and started lapping up into her greedily. The xenos purred in response and accelerated.
144. Soon, he couldn’t even tell left from right as it mercilessly face-fucked him, scraping the apex of its mound along his nose. Sweat streamed down its inner thighs and stung his eyes with its foreign composition. The Commissar focused his efforts on the act of breathing-- or more specifically, staying alive. He was huffing in vastly more alien fumes and witch nectar than oxygen. God-Emperor grant him strength, or he may die with his head as this xenos’s Golden Throne. So discombobulated was he that his mind even went to such a blasphemous thought!
145.  
146.  
147. Sensing her plaything’s desperation to live when one of its hands went to grip her porcelain cheeks with the force equal to that of a wraith-construct, Aduaine slowed and lifted her hips, prying its grubby fingers off her butt. She was -that- close to an orgasm too. Oh well. She would have to try the creature’s phallus yet again. The outcast spun around and planted her bottom on its face, its nose’s exhalations tickling her asshole. Perhaps she could try there? No-- she had standards! She wasn’t some depraved Drukhari; and even if she was, how could she convince the beast to stick its tongue in her little Commorragh? Slather it with honey or some sort of nut-paste that humans enjoyed? The Eldar ignored the thought and bent over toward its groin.
148.  
149.  
150. Every inch of his muscles were sore from such a beating, yet there was one muscle which refused to give up-- Sardin cursed himself for such weakness. The alien had wrapped an index finger and thumb around his sack and gently massaged the sensitive organ. Two other long, slender fingers drifted down to rub the soft tissue underneath. Achingly, blood flowed back down to his pained shaft and brought it into a full salute for the wrong side. Never in his life had his cock been so overused and abused. His captor retreated from his face and squatted over his member, rubbing its delicate head along her crease before plunging it once more into the breach.
151.  
152. Sardin couldn’t contain a moan as her scalding, silken walls glided over him with a hush. The xenos’s insides were like fire, but their touch did not elicit any spasms of pain from his overexcited rod, only throbs of unwanted desire. The alien was an enigma. Beautiful, yet uncomfortably uncanny. Rough, yet unbelievably soft where it kissed him. He hated the xenos, suffering not for it to live, but his cock continued to rise from death time and time again over the night. The Cadet didn’t even realize as he pawed at the rock behind him for support that his own hips were rising haphazardly to meet her own long strokes. Emperor protect him, the pressure in his crotch was rising, his muscles tensed harsher each time the creature brought her hips down on him.
153.  
154. Just then, Sardin gazed to his right, and an image burned through the haze. It was his laspistol! If only he could scoot an inch closer. His arm reached out almost on autopilot while the rest of his body was being battered. Only a few centimeters more… millimeters… Holy Terra, his fingers were brushing up against the grip!
155.  
156. Faster than he could process, the xenos leaned back and swiped the gun-- the resulting heart palpitations mixed with the alien’s baleful sideways gaze brought forth abject terror inside Sardin, and an eruption inside the creature. His dick spasmed wildly as the Cadet tried scurrying away from his captor, yet her scorching insides clamped down on him and branded his pillar as her own; he only managed to back himself further into the stone. The xenos didn’t bother to acknowledge him squirming under her as she deliberately, gingerly urged her hips back and forth on his groin in meager nudges. Several perverse, foreign utterances escaped from its lips. Eventually, the chaotic clenching ceased, and the witch returned her attention to him.
157.  
158.  
159. Aduaine hoped her disdain showed as she glared back at the mon’keigh underneath her. Truly, it should have been no surprise it would try to kill her if given the chance. What had surprised her was the strong emotion it released when she first leered at it. Who would have thought humans were capable of producing an empathic wave as strong as that one! She must have really frightened it. After being surrounded by this planet’s muted reality for so long, the amplitude of its emotion had managed to jolt an orgasm out of her. That must have been one of her more embarrassing releases in a while-- cumming to the unmitigated, complete fear of a mon’keigh after being on edge for so long… But it was an orgasm all the same. She couldn’t fault the creature for that.
160.  
161.  
162. The xenos held his pistol in between two fingers like it was picking up a piece of waste. Its own sideways scrutinizing of him made it clear he shared the same tier of existence in her mind: a piece of garbage.
163.  
164. “I see for all your bluster,” the xenos rebuked, her voice flat, “you mon’keigh are cowards who would sooner shoot an Eldar in the back than fuck them like a man.”
165.  
166. The alien’s own overwhelming body heat was dying down, but Sardin’s face was growing red-hot. Every time he opened his mouth to object, however, he could only swallow the rising resentment in his sore throat. The witch removed the power cell from the pistol with the same two-fingered disgust and flicked it away into the grass. When she rose, a trickle of his weak seed ran down one of her thighs, glistening orange in the dim light of the early morning. Golden Throne, it was already daybreak?
167.  
168. “If you so much as utter a word to someone about this meeting,” the Eldar addressed without bothering to look back, “your braincase will be liquified. I will be watching-- always.” The xenos zipped up its bodyglove, and Sardin rested his exhausted, pulsing head against the rock. The Cadet-Commissar could barely move a muscle while he nodded off, any soft steps the alien took barely registering as whispers in the grass.
169.  
170. -----
171.  
172. The outcast checked back one last time across the clearing to make sure she wasn’t being followed, then shuffled into the woods. Once she was far enough into the tangle of trees, Aduaine pulled out the creature’s cap and played with it in her hands. Her chest tightened merely thinking about what she had just done. Lileath’s Breath, what if the human DID tell others about her? What if her War-Cell found out about this?! The Path of the Seer was certainly not for her if she acted so flippantly on her desires.
173.  
174. She would have to trust Ennalia not to tattle on her, otherwise they’d all be calling her a mon’keigh-lover until the end of her days. Surely she couldn’t be the only one to try this? Her friend from Ulthwe had told her that Iybraesil women liked doing it, but Aduaine was sure her friend was just being a rumor-monger with that drivel.
175.  
176. No, she’d have to keep an eye on that human now. He was the weakest link in all this, especially after that verbal lashing she gave him. The pathetic thing thought it could sneak around her! But what if he had a stronger will than she assumed? Perhaps… What if he returned to that circle of stones another night? Aduaine suppressed a devious, uncharacteristic cackle. That would be impossible! Silly! Yet… What if she could train him to be her mon’keigh?
177.