The deck was in chaos. Brother fought brother as friends became enemies in a heartbeat. Lethis was dead. Lehron IV burnt and the empire was lost. Instincts older than memory awakened as each man fought for himself. The void-ship was careening haphazardly to and fro as it failed again and again to ignite its web way portals. The engineers at least seemed to be trying to save the ship even if the rest of the crew cared only for their own petty rivalries.
Dracon Harakon the Red cut a bloody swathe through his former crew-mates with his dual cutlasses. This was his moment. He tasted the air; relishing the iron tang of blood upon his tongue already wet with ecstasy induced saliva. Pain is the pleasure of the dark eldar and the suffering of their own kin is a delicacy to be relished. Harakon smiled gleefully as he sliced another reaver in twain spilling entrails across the gore-slicked floor, ripples of euphoria filling every corner of his being. With Lethis dead the time for mutiny had come; the ship was ripe for the taking and glory awaited those who could take it. It hadn't taken his men long to reach the deck and any loyalist had been easy prey. Depravum reavers had soon arrived in a counter-attack and provided some resistance but the mutineers were beginning to prevail. The red harvest was brutal with heavy losses on both sides; rivers of blood gushing across the deck set to the symphony of the dying.