MIA & KIA

Kor’arx ka’Arkornix ak’Tulrek (roughly translated in Low Gothic as ‘Swift Beheader, Son of Arkornix, of the Tulrek Bloodline) hails from a headhunter Kindred, the Tar’kor, native to a Feral world within the Tau System and famed amongst the Kroot for their highly toxic biology and for their ability to manufacture some of the most lethal toxins known.

On reaching adolescence, Kor’arx was sent by his father to be apprenticed to the Kindred’s Chief Shaper. At his apprenticeship acceptance ceremony, his Kindred gathered and bestowed him with offerings of the latest hunt across the Feralworld’s jungle biome.

Kor’arx’s most treasured gift was from his father, who had been injured a week earlier and now lay on his deathbed following a tragic incident during a Hunt. Kor’arx’s father, Arkornix, handed his son his own ancient Kroot rifle, named Ruxorik (or “Decapitator of Prey” loosely translated in Low Gothic). Ruxorik is a relic of a weapon that had been in the Tulrek bloodline for generations, even prior to its augmentation following the union with the Tau Empire. Ruxorik was ornately (although simple and almost rustic looking to a human) decorated with intricate Kroot carvings, almost rune-like, with feathers, beads and bones adorning the muzzle, stock and strap of the ancient weapon. His avian-like chest swelling with pride, father and son nuzzled their beaks together one last time. Kor’arx then swiftly and mercifully removed his father’s head with the heirloom and hungrily devoured his corpse. The Kindred cheered and danced as Arkornix’s spirit was released from the torment of unbearable pain and the shame of debilitating injury and consumed by his own son, a precious moment.

His apprenticeship having commenced, Kor’arx threw himself into his work for the Chief Shaper, learning as much as he could about the art of consumption and the production of lethal toxins. Kor’arx strives to one day ascend to his master’s pedigree upon his master’s death and subsequent well-earned consumption. Deeply spiritual and shamanic in his ways, Kor’arx is committed to the betterment of his Kindred through the devouring of the flesh of the fallen, friend or foe, as well as the advancement of the Kindred's knowledge and use of toxins.
Kor’arx’s journey had begun, and he had only completed his second year in his apprenticeship when all of that changed in one fateful night.

Shortly after sunset across the jungle feral world, as Kor’arx was returning from gathering materials for a new toxin his Chief Shaper was to teach him to make, the dark and starry skies were scarred by a single falling star. At least that is what Kor’arx first thought it to be until it fell so close that he had to shield his eyes from the brightness of the blazing lights.

The young Kor’arx, squinted against the lights and noticed the descent of the object slowed as it neared the ground coming to a controlled halt as it settled on the ground just outside his Kindred’s village. The bulk of the oddly shaped object now towered over the village, Kor’arx understood it to be a ship but it did not look like anything of Tau design or the design of other mercenary ships the Kindred had traded lethal toxins with in the past. Kor’arx was worried by the unannounced and foreign looking arrival. Quickening his pace he headed straight for his village.
Kor’arx made it to a hilltop close to his village just in time to see the doors of the ship open in a hiss of gas and atmosphere as a ramp was lowered to the ground. Silhouetted against the red back light of the interior of the ship Kor’arx made out a number of humanoid figures, neither Tau nor Kroot, although similar to Gue’vesa he had seen in the past. Kor’arx watched as the figures descended down the ramp to be greeted by the Kindred’s Chief Shaper and a number of the Kroot from the village, all exhibiting signs of anxiety and nervousness as they approached the strangers, weapons in hand.

As the two parties met at the bottom of the ship’s ramp, Kor’arx noticed a conversation was taking place although the distance and the wind rustling the jungle vegetation swept away any of the words being spoken. Kor’arx noted with growing unease that the conversation was becoming quickly heated and aggressive. Kor’arx began his was down the hill, slinging Ruxorik from his back as he did, but he was stopped dead in his tracks as the lead figure of the foreign party felled the Chief Shaper with a single blow from a large blade in his hand. Micro-seconds later the night erupted with the flashes of pulse and las fire and the curses of the Kroot and whoops of the foreigners. Kor’arx was running now, losing sight of his village periodically amongst the trees but the screeching of the dying Kroot filled his sensitive ears, spurring him on.

Breaking through the brush and into the opening where his village lay, Kor’arx was greeted with the horror of the decimation of the Kroot of his Kindred and their village at the hands of what he now saw to be humans. With a screech of despair, Kor’arx brought Ruxorik to his should and fired a round at the lead figure only to see it dissipate in a shower of sparks as it bounced off some ghostly essence of what Kor’arx registered to be a shield. The foreigner turned his head, a grin playing across his lips as he motioned to his cohort to kill this newly arrived and young Kroot.

Kor’arx, losing not a moment, turned his rifle on an oncoming assailant, felling him with a pulse round to the chest. Within seconds, another assailant had closed to melee range and Kor’arx swung his Kroot rifle expertly, severing the attacker’s head. The leader of this band now watched the Kroot with a new interest, noticing his attire in the burning fires of the village and recognising it as Shaper garb. He shouted out a new order in Low Gothic to the remainder of his crew who put away their weapons and drew gear more adept at capturing.

Kor’arx fought bravely, felling another two assailants and removing the arm from another but he was eventually restrained and stripped of his weapons. The leader of the foreign band approached, stepping over the fallen Kroot he had dispatched by his hand and order, slowly clapping all the way as if applauding actors on a stage. Kneeling in front of Kor’arx, he grinned menacingly.

“Well, well, well young Kroot. You are a lethal one” he said, looking the Kroot over intently and flicking at the Kor’arx’s garbs with the point of his blade. “And of the Shaper variety it seems, albeit an apprentice.”

Kor’arx struggled in fury, his beak biting at the air between the two, hoping to remove the face of this intruder, the murderer of his Kindred.

“How rude of me,” the foreigner continued. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Captain Calthar Drayus. A renowned Xenographer in the Imperium, a studier of Kroot in particular, and I’ve been looking for your Kindred for some time now. And you…you are my prisoner. Let’s not make things difficult like your Chief did there.” Calthar points over his shoulder dismissively with his blade, not taking his eyes from Kor’arx.

“Come, young Kroot.” Calthar said, rising to his feet and brushing dust from his uniform. “I have someone who is very interested in you. Someone, very rich.”
At a flick of the Captain’s wrist, the nearest crewmember knocked Kor’arx out with an electrical weapon. All went black.

Kor’arx was taken inside the ship, dragged past his fallen brethren as the Captain’s crew picked over the belongings of his Kindred and their village, collecting anything that might be of value or anything the Xenographer specifically requested including the Kindred’s totem and Kor’arx’s weapon. The Captain’s ship left the planet, the small clearing that had been Kor’arx’s home, lying broken and bloodied in its fiery wake.

During the ship’s travels across the void, Capatin Calthar, an ever vigilant and devoted Xenographer, kept Kor’arx in a cell where the young Kroot was tortured for weeks in a vain attempt to get Kor’arx to give up the whereabouts of other Kindred’s on the planet or within the system. But Kor’arx remained faithful, never divulging any information, all the while taking note of the torture techniques being used on him. The Xenographer, as a show of retribution, kept the beloved Kindred’s totem with the intent of selling it on some Imperium world and he promised Kor’arx he would sell it dirt cheap, adding insult to injury.

Eventually, the ship made an abrupt landing on a moon orbiting an ice planet. Kor’arx was taken from his cell, hooded, shackled and prodded by electrified poles. Kor’arx registered that they had left the confines of the ship and were now in another. Once violently made to kneel, the hood was removed and Kor’arx, his eyes taking a painful moment to adjust, surveyed his surroundings.

Kor’arx knelt, shackled to the floor, in the centre of a metallic room. On one side sat Calthar and his crew, and on the other, mysterious humans, all masked and adorned in grissly apparel of various kind; needled gloves, vials of green liquid strapped to chests or belts, skull shaped helmets and so on. The conversation between the two parties was one of barter. Kor’arx knew at once he was being negotiated over, being sold if the price was right. The negotiation lasted some time until eventually one of the members of the new humans walked to Kor’arx, unafraid and ran a finger along the Kroot’s oily forehead whilst Kor’arx defiantly tried to brush the finger off. The human then proceeded to lick the finger, as if to savour or study the taste. After a while he turned to Calthar and nodded. With this gesture the negotiation was over and Calthar, grinning menacingly at Kor’arx handed over the chains and the Kroot’s rifle to the new humans. Without a word Kor’arx was rehooded, the burning image of Calthar’s grinning face disappearing into blackness as Kor’arx was dragged to a new destination.

Kor’arx was placed in a new cell on a new ship. The new ship appeared much more sleek and ominous. He was fed regularly and over the course of the travel on the ship, strange robotic creatures, some half human and half machine and others just skulls, would come into the room to poke, prod, scrape and draw blood from the Kroot. At first he fought this off but eventually became apathetic to their ministrations.

Eventually the ship landed on an asteroid in an asteroid belt, orbiting a planet of green gas, spewing a green tinged light across the asteroid’s black surface. Kor’arx was taken from his cell and taken into an equally sleek facility. He was led to a new room which was to become his home.

He was greeted by a dour looking human. Gaunt faced, sunken eyed and bald, the human looked Kor’arx up and down before gesturing to the servitors escorting the Kroot to shackle him to the floor.

“I suppose you have some questions then, Kroot?” the gaunt faced man asked, staring out a porthole sized window at the green planet. The green hinge bouncing off the angular features of his face.

“Where am I?” Kor’arx replied, his voice hoarse and full of spite and rage.

“That, I won’t tell you,” came the stern reply. “The exploits of your particular Kindred have become noticed by the Venenum Temple of the Officio Assassinorum and a sample of your species was requested…living, preferably. Captain Calthar was contracted to carry out this task, given his…expertise…in your kind.”
“He killed my Kindred…you…you killed them,” Lor’arx spat in disgust, as the man dismissed the accusation with a wave. “Who are you? What do you want with me?”

“I am Vevenum Lord Torial Brolthus and you have been bought for a handsome price because of the toxins in your body and your potential ability to produce lethal toxins,” came the curt reply. “Those are the tools of our trade, and you will assist us in providing those tools. If you resist this, you will suffer greatly.”

Kor’arx shrugged at the human in defiance. “I will give you nothing, Kroot-murderer!”

“Very well, beast,” the man said with a sigh of annoyance as he turned away and left the room. “We can do this the hard way.”

For months Kor’arx was tortured, forcibly drained of blood and exposed to all manner of liquid and gaseous toxins as nothing more than a test subject. The Venenum assassins, taking note of the Kroot’s combat skills when he fought back, also began practicing their melee skills with the rage-filled beast.

For months, Kor’arx was made to fight time and time again against the temple assassins, and other times against other Xenos captors of the Venenum Temple. He won all of his fights against humans and other xenos alike and during this time developed a great many skills. Kor’arx was always left to eat his victims unmolested by his captors. The devouring of his victims was a great boon to Kor’arx. Not only was the consumption of the exotic DNA of these warriors invaluable, Kor’arx was a conscientious student, for a Kroot. He kept vast records of the carcasses he fed on to ensure these. His scribblings always appearing nonsensical and rune-ish to his captors so they let him be entertained like some obscure beast. He whiled away the hours between fights by scratching away with burnt and charcoaled teeth from his victims on cloth from his victim’s garments. He would roll these long and thin inscribed scrolls of cloth around finger bones and kept them in a small pouch (also thriftily crafted from the skin of his victims).

For years more, Kor’arx was forced to produce toxins for the Venenum Temple. He never knew what they were used for or who they were used on, but he did get the sense that he was a highly prised captive for this very purpose. Kor’arx came to know that the facility he was held in was a secretive and remote research facility established by the Venenum Temple that experimented on a range of Xenos species to improve the operation of the temple and its assassins in their exploits.

As the years went by, Kor’arx was permitted to take his meals in a common area and it was here that he met a number of other xenos, those that ate their meals in a civilised manner anyway. Kor’arx recognised some species but others were foreign to him. During these meal times Kor’arx would converse with as many other captors as he could, always gathering information. One such conversation revealed a large piece of the puzzle on Kor’arx’s 1,302 day cycle at the facility.

“But why out here, why this remote into an unknown system,” Kor’arx asked of the strange tall and spiked humanoid xenos sitting opposite him. They sat against a wall, trying to carry on their conversation in as much privacy as they could muster.

“Two reasons,” came the gruff but whispered reply from the xenos. “Xenos research and Kruxonium.”

“Explain,” Kor’arx growled back.

“The use of xenos for this research,” continued the creature, gesturing around the room at the research subjects. “It’s unpalatable and many in the Imperium believe it verges on heresy, including some members of the Ordo Xenos of the Inquisition. Although the Venenum Temple and many of the High born on Terra understand it to be necessary to enhance the Temple’s operations. So whilst it isn’t sanctioned, it operates out here in the depths of the void away from prying eyes.”

Kor’arx nodded, not really understanding the ways of the Imperium but satisfied with the response for now. “And this krax-an-ara?”

“Kruxonium,” the creature corrected. “A newly discovered material distilled from the gases of the planet we orbit around here. A necessary compound for one of the Temple’s more lethal toxic concoctions. But they won’t the only ones interested in this area of the void, just for different reasons. There was someone already here.”

“Who?” Kor’arx looking around the room as if searching for the answers in the walls of the facility.

“No,” the creature replied. “The Venenum came here with a contingency of Administratum from Terra and they were tasked with overseeing the collection and protection of the Kruxonium back to Terra. But they knew someone was here, someone they could use, and when they got here they found them in a clandestine mining facility right here where we sit…”

The creature trailed off as a Venenum acolyte strode past on patrol of the cafeteria.

“The mining facility was occupied by a small band of Demiurg,” the xenos continued once the acolyte was out of ear shot.

“Demiurg?” Kor’arx repeated, registering the familiar name of the allies of the Tau.
“That’s right, but they were here to mine the asteroids for their precious metals, sent by their Brotherhood. But the Venenum won’t going to tolerate the Demiurg in the system and saw this facility as the prime location for their gas extraction and xenos research operations. So they took it from the Demiurg by force, killing the vast majority of them.”

“The majority? What did they do with those they didn’t kill?” Kor’arx asked.
“They put them to work,” came the reply. “The Venenum saw an opportunity in the surviving Demiurg and used them for their gathering and production expertise, putting them into a work party to run the gas extraction and refining operation from the planet, under guard.”

Kor’arx’s mind was racing with the new information, the seeds of a plan had been laid.

"How do you know all this?" Kor'arx asked, suddenly suspicious.

"Believe it or not, I am human, once a member of the Imperium," the creature dropped his eyes to the table. "A member of the Schola Progenium to be exact, a fine school of the great Imperium. Until one day when I was contaminated by a xenos artefact we were studying. I hd ignored the Master's orders and touched the object. It bathed me in a strange gas. I was immediately hospitalised but over the coming days I changed, strange mutations all over my body until I became...this." He gestured to himself in shame.

"Covered in these highly toxic spines, I was suddenly shunned from the Imperium and the Ordo Xenox of theInquisition took an interest in me. I was to be studied then executed...until the Venenum stepped in, they too saw an opportunity. The Venenum won the right to me despite the Inquisition's appeal to the High Council and now here I sit, ten years later."

"I'm sorry," Kor'arx said after a moment of pained silence, he extended a hand. "I am Kor’arx ka’Arkornix ak’Tulrek."

The human mutant looked up from the table, taken back at first by the offer of contact with the Kroot, he eagerly took the offered hand. "And I am Gorrian Dolthus."

The conversation between the two continued over the coming months when opportunities arose. Kor’arx discovered that sixteen Demiurg were being exploited by the Venenum, working split shifts and under guard by Venenum acolytes and a detachment of Arbites from Terra. Each shift eight were sent in a small transport ship to an extraction facility anchored within the planets gaseous atmosphere. There they would extract the precious raw Kruxonium before shipping it back to the facility where it would be refined. On each fifty day cycle, refined shipments would be picked up by an Imperial Navy ship to be transported back to the Venenum Temple of Terra. The Demiurg were never seen by the xenos research subjects, kept in isolation on a separate wing of the facility, for their prized expertise.

The more Kor’arx learnt, that seed of a plan was nurtured each time, it now began to take root. It just needed time. Thankfully that is exactly what Kor’arx had.

By Ko’arx’s fifth year as a prisoner at the secret facility he had been miserably used by the Venenum Temple. However, always the student, he had learnt a great deal more about hand to hand combat, stealth and the production and application of toxins. An inadvertent product of the Venenum Temple’s secret program was the crafting of a fine tuned and lethal Kroot. Kor’arx had learnt all he needed to from these vile humans and for almost 500 day cycles since his first conversation with the mutated human Gorrian, he had been planning his escape from the wretched facility. He had bided his time, waiting for the perfect moment to leave this miserable, clinical facility within the asteroid belt.

Kor’arx learned that Garrion held a certain position of trust with their captors. Although not much more than the research subjects he was still held in higher regard by the Venenum and Arbites given his Imperium origins and the knowledge he had picked up during his days at the Schola Progenium.

The level of trust afforded to Garrion meant he was given menial jobs such as cleaning, transporting items and anything that the captors felt were below the servitor’s time commitments. These jobs gave Garrion an improved access to other parts of the facilities, and this was an advantage that Kor’arx meant to leverage as much as possible. He tolerated Garrion, despite his humanity, which was more than you could say for every other soul in the facility.

“Can you get me s map of the facility?” Kor’arx asked at one of their latest secret meetings tucked away in the common cafeteria.

“No,” Gorrian responded quickly. “I am lucky to move in and out of our wing with the clothes on my back. They check for contraband like that.”

Kor’arx looked away, his beak absent mindedly nibbling at the air in frustration and disappointment.

“But,” Gorrian quickly added, noticing Kor’arx’s disappointment and, feeling a certain kinship with the xenos, he didn’t want to shatter his hopes of escape. “I can draw one for you. I know the parts of the facility I am at least allowed in to like the backs of my hand. I can draw everything up to the cargo bay where the Demiurg transport ship docks.”

Kor’arx’s feather-like crest bristled in a new-found excitement. Hope was not lost.

“I just need materials…” Gorrian trailed off. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had anything to write or sketch with. What is a scholar without at least those? Just a prickly beast, apparently.”

Kor’arx felt a sudden pang of empathy for this human.

“I too am a student, human-Gorrian.” Kor’arx said. “I think we study very different subjects, but yes I have felt your pain.”

“You are a student?” Gorrian asked, raising is eyebrows but quickly regretting showing such ignorance to the creature.

“Do you doubt me?” Kor’arx bristled.

“No, no. It’s just…well, what did you study?”

“Consumption and chemistry.” Kor’arx responded curtly, on guard for any criticism that the human might display. But to the human’s credit he didn’t patronise or condescend to the Kroot, instead he actually showed an interest, a gesture that Kor’arx was thankful for.

“My species eats certain parts of dead organisms," Kor'arx continued, "forever using this to absorb the spirits within so that we may take on certain traits. On our world, much of what we have consumed has allowed us to be toxin resistant and highly toxic ourselves. But, if we are misguided and consume the wrong spirits we could doom our species. That is why we have Shapers, great spirit consumption guides full of knowledge and connection to the spirit realm. That, human-Gorrian is what I was training for.”

“Wow, well that certainly is different to what I studied,” Gorrian chuckled, genuinely fascinated. “Very interesting though, Kor’arx. And the chemistry?”

“Making toxins,” Kor’arx responded, encouraged by Gorrian’s interest. “We use it on our hunts, but many other species took an interest in what we made and we traded our toxins with them. The production and application of these toxins is a sacred task, with great ritual involved from the gathering of materials through to the application of the toxin to a weapon. The filth at this facility have brought disgrace to the sacredness of that process.”

“I see their interest in you then,” Gorrian responded, his brow furrowed in thought. “You have some very unique skills Kor’arx, they will be a great boon to you should you choose to escape. Alas, I have little to offer you.”

“A map and any information on this facility you can provide.” Kor’arx repeated his original request.

“But writing materials?” Gorrian responded.

“Worry not, human-Gorrian. Those I can get you.” Kor’arx said, a hint of mirth in his voice and what looked like an effort at a surreptitious wink.

The next day at the cafeteria, Kor’arx returned to their table, a semblance of a smile evident on his beak. Without a word, he sat down and slipped a small leather-like pouch to Garrion under the table, his feathered crest twitching with pride and excitement.

Garrion, quickly looking down at what was in his hand and loosening the string at the top, peered inside the pouch. With a nervous glance around the room to make sure they won’t being watched, he poked around the contents of the pouch before producing what looked to be a bolt of scrap cloth wrapped around a bone of some sort.

“What…is this?” Gorrian asked, uneasily.

“Drawing materials,” Kor’arx responded proudly. “Now you can write and draw, but first I need that map.”

“Is this…bone?”

“Yes, finger bone and clothing scraps,” Kor’arx said dismissively, confused by the continued questioning of the components and disappointed the human wasn’t excited by his gift. “And burnt teeth to etch with.”

Gorrian’s eyes widened at the realisation of what was in his hands. He quickly dropped the ‘materials’ back into the pouch, wrinkling his nose. Looking up at the Kroot, he realised he was being rude and understood this to be a very sincere gesture. Composing himself, he slipped the pouch into his sleeve.

“Well…thank you, Kor’arx,” Garrion said as dignified as he could with a sleeve full of carcass components. “That is very thoughtful. I will get you your map, give me five day cycles then look under the nutrient paste dispenser. I will slip it there when it’s ready.

Kor’arx nodded, reserving his thanks until he got the map. It’s not that he didn’t trust the human, he just didn’t want to get his hopes up.


Kor’arx spent the five day cycles meditating on his plan. He was growing with confidence in his ability to see it through, he had done his preparations and was now ready. There was just one more thing he needed from Garrion to make his plan work.

On the fifth day cycle after their last meeting, Kor’arx checked under the nutrient paste dispenser and was relieved to find a familiar rolled up scroll of cloth around a bone stuck there. Catching Garrion’s eye across the room, Kor’arx nodded his thanks before quickly exiting to his cell.

Kor’arx had plotted in his mind where all the surveillance points and angles were and knew of all the blind spots in the areas he was allowed to frequent, particularly in his room. He used this blind spot for his final preparations.

Unfurling the scroll, Kor’arx noted with rising hope a highly detailed map that showed a clear route to the transport bay as well as a series of notes on security and shift change times. Kor’arx was impressed with Garrion’s ability despite what he knew Garrion saw as primitive in the drawing materials he was given. Kor’arx set himself to studying and meditating on the map, committing as much of it to memory as he could before burning what was left, not wanting to incriminate himself or Garrion should his plans be revealed.

Days later, Kor’arx found Garrion in their usual meeting spot numbly eating nutrient paste.

‘Human-Garrion,” Kor’arx said in greeting. “I must thank you for your detailed work. It was of much assistance. You should be a proud student.”

“You found it useful?” Garrion asked, almost blushing with the compliment. “What did you do with it?”

“I burned it.” Came the reply, to which Garrion looked crestfallen. “For both of our protection, but it is in my memory now, fear not human-Garrion. I have one more thing to ask of you, though.”

”I will do as much as I can for you Kor’arx. What is it you need?”

“These spines that adorn your body. I need a great many of them.” Kor’arx responded simply.

“My…spines?” Gorrian looked about himself, his eyes wide with worry. “Why…why do you want those?”

“All will be revealed, human-Garrion, you must trust me. Will you experience pain if I remove them?”

“Well, not a great deal Kor’arx,” Garrion admitted. “Although it is rather disconcerting.”

“I will give you something for the pain before I can them off. I do not need them all. If you do this for me, I will bring you with me.” Kor’arx responded leaning back with his arms crossed, feigning a trade negotiation.

“Me? You will take me with you?” Garrion asked, eyes widened again in surprise.

“Yes.”

“Why me?” Garrion asked.

“You…have skills I can still use.” Kor’arx stated quickly, not wanting to reveal any further empathy for the human. The truth was, Kor’arx had grown fond of Garrion, he felt a certain kinship in their heritage despite their different backgrounds. IN addition to much of the secretive planning, they had spent many hours conversing and teaching each other the ways of the Kroot and the Imperium, the student in each excited by the exchange of knowledge. Besides, leaving him here with what he had planned for the facility would be a great dishonour considering what he had done for Kor’arx.

“Alright, Kor’arx. You can take my spines. I look forward to travelling with you…companion” Garrion added sheepishly.

Kor’arx, not acknowledging the honorific, simply nodded his agreement, considering the exchange complete. “Good, meet me in the shower room in seven hours on the dot.”

The seven hours passed quickly as Kor’arx used the time to hone a sharpened blade from a femur bone collected from one of his victims. Concealing it amongst his braid of feathers on his crest, he made his way to the shower room when the time came, a small bottled substance in his hand.

He was relieved to find Garrion waiting for him, pacing nervously across the shower room. Garrion was startled by Kor’arx’s arrival but visibly relaced when he realised it was the Kroot and not an Arbites of Venenum Acolyte.

“Have you readied yourself, human-Garrion,” Kor’arx asked, eyeing the human for any signs that he might back out.

“I have, Kor’arx,” came the response. “I want out of this hell-hole.”

With that Kor’arx handed the small vial to Garrion indicating for him to drink.

Garrion quickly down the mixture, reeling at its taste but immediately feeling the numbing effects of its contents.

“I will remove spines under your clothes so that any missing spines do not draw unwanted suspicion,” Garrion explained, as he drew his bone-knife from his crest. “Remove your shirt and steel yourself.”

Garrion did as he instructed, his mind occupied by the thoughts of escape. Whilst he would never be able to return to the Imperium, a vast universe waited for him out there. He was brimming with hope for the future. He kept his mind on these thoughts as Kor’arx began carving spines from his back.

Throl Quora (Ally) - Throl, was one of the captive Demiurg's Kor'arx rescued from the covert Venenum Temple research facility. The two shared a kinship over their captivity and loss of family and friends at the hands of the Imperium and Throl owes Kor'arx a debt for rescuing him and his kin. Throl is highly ranked within his own brotherhood and well connected. He is a solider by nature capable of carrying and competently firing some of the heaviest weapons in the Tau and Demiurg armament. Having both returned to the Tau Empire each was offered a position within the Reaper Team's, and both passed the gruelling training process. Throl and Kor'arx both also share a love for cooking and eating...although the meals they prefer a very different, but they could talk for hours on preparation, seasonings, methods and other culinary pursuits.


Fio'ui Bork'an Doran'Yaxar (Neutral) - a female doctor of the earth caste medical team on board the Monat, Doran and Kor'arx struck up a strong acquaintance due to their common interests in chymistry and medicae activities which they discovered whilst Doran dressed the wounds Kor'arx received during his escape from the Venenum. The acquaintance, although somewhat stand-offish is one of mutual benefit as Kor'arx can often solicit raw chemical supplies and equipment from Doran in return for the kroot's services in supplementing the Monat's pharmaceutical dispensary with certain primitive, but still effective, chemical applications.


Asset 489 (Enemy) - The Grand Master of the Temple learned of Kor'arx's responsibility for the destruction of the covert Venenum research facility and was granted approval by the High Lords of Terra to activate Asset 489. Asset 489 is an androgenous and highly regarded member of the Venenum Temple of the Officio Assassinorum. It is designed to hunt down its prey, kill it and leave without a trace of its presence. Asset 489 is unable to talk, its tongue removed and mouth grafted over to prevent the divulging of information. Asset 489 is relentless and will hunt its prey until its death.