Tuesday, 6 June 2017

So you want to birth a Death God...

In his house of wraithbone, dead Ynnead waits dreaming. - Khalfhirin, Prophet of The Dead God

I must admit, when I first heard about the Ynnari I was concerned. Fearful of a pending Grand Alliance happy families union of the various disparate survivors of the apocalyptic Fall. I will hold my hands up now and say I was pleasantly surprised :)

While the action in the Fracture of Biel Tan book was a little too HeroHammer for my particular tastes, the raw potential in the phrase 'Eldar Death Cult' was something I just couldn't resist. I've always loved the more Blanchian end of the spectrum, and this was a solid-gold opportunity to apply that to the Eldar.

Ragged prophets performing questionable miracles, appealing to the masses to pledge their souls to the newly formed and untested Lovecraftian God of Death. Yeah, I think that deserves more than 'just paint your regular dudes red' ;)

Deep in the bowels of Commorragh, a metallic clatter echoed through the depths as one of the servile units dropped its workload. Searing white light burned through its neurons as its life flashed before its eyes. Birth and early years on its Craftworld, railing against the oppressive atmosphere. Tears of its mother as it left to follow the Outcast Path. The terrible debt it accrued with the twisted haemonculi. The subtle psychological conditioning worming into its mind as it sold itself to servitude. Dullness of sensation as it carried out its masters wishes decade after decade. Death and resurrection, over and over.

It all burned in blinding clarity as memories reasserted themselves. Feeling flowed through his aching limbs. Psychic potential blossomed in his cerebelli. One presence filled his new-found vision: Ynnead. He knew he had felt the kiss of death and the rush of resurrection many times before. Nonetheless he was reborn.

It was the 7th day of the Serpent subcycle when they came. Draped in rags and sporting the blank face of the dead, the prophets of the Dead God filtered through the webway portal. Miracles, they brought with them. Those gifted among them they called 'reborn' walked among the Ghost Halls. Amidst a gathering crowd, they placed a hand upon the psychoplastic bulk of a Wraith before them. The touch of the revenant's palm caused a startling change in the Wraith's demenour. Suddenly it appeared to take a juddering, desperate breath, as if it had surfaced from icy waters. Where its fellows moved languidly through the ghost hall's arches and boughs, this awakened Wraith stared intensely at its hands, digits moving as it tested its perception. As the revenant passed on by, the onlookers saw the awareness ebb away. The movements of its fingers that seconds ago appeared fundamentally alive slowed as its arms dropped listlessly to its sides. Whatsmore, the eldar could feel the change. The bright spark that had flared into light at the touch of the prophet was fading to a whispering flicker oncemore.

Although such parlour tricks had a marked effect on the Craftworld's citizens, the seers were not so easily swayed. Since the Fall they had learnt bitter lessons regarding strangers bearing gifts. Long had they listened to the heartbeat of the Dead God. Of late, worrying glimpses of its consciousness had crept into their visions.

So that's a brief(ish) introduction to my ideas around the Ynnari :) I hope you like them! The warband's not yet finished, but I've got a few more to show you soon :)

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