Draex walks into the Armory and upon enter punches a servator out cold. What ever menial task it was to preform may never see itself to completion or at least delayed for the time being
When draex spots lheor
"What are we doing here. Our brothers have died for no good R-r-reason and we are to be hosted by our coward cousins who do give a @$!# of us. They only see us as tools to advance their goals.... what truly is in this for us"
Lheor grins showing his bronze teeth and scarred face when he sees Draex.
"Khayon may be a coward but his intentions are true. I wanted to save our brothers but realized it was futile as he said."
He backhands one of the slaves as they are sloppy with their work.
"We have no legion and our warband is only us six now. We will bide our time and see where it leads us for now aboard this ship."
"They couldnt create another rift to let our brothers on this ship. They claim their witchery knows no bound that with simple thoughts they can reshape this realm. I dont trust them".
Draex begins his ritual maintenance on his twin chain axe. Cleaning, sharpening then practicing trying to perfect his killing methods to become a blade master or chain axe master in his case.
Lheor shrugs "I do not know how their magic works." he spits as if disgusted talking about it.
"Enough talk about it, we are here now and will figure things out we always do. If Falkus's mad man oracle was telling the truth perhaps sticking with Khayon will work out best for us if we can acquire the Vengful Spirit."
Khayon stands and walks over to Menstras and places a reassuring hand on his shoulder guard.
"Brother, would you like to perform a mortuus for your fallen brothers."
Menstras holsters his weapons as the Rubric Marines remove Telemachon from the bridge.
"The list is long this day."
Armored hands remove the seals from his helm and lift the shell from his head. For the first time since boarding The Skinner Menstras views his cousins without the filter of auto-senses. Scars mar his pale flesh, marks of battle and failure enduring through the ages. A poorly healed gash runs the length of his left cheek, a reminder of his service to a band of Death Guard. Wisps of aether play at the corners of his hollow red eyes, neither rising as a smoke nor sinking as a mist.
The light of the bridge burns for a moment but he ignores the sensation as he meets Khayon's gaze.
"Yet there is still much we must do to prepare."
Menstras unhooks the captured head of the Emperor's Child he slew aboard the His Chosen Son, simply letting the cadaver drop to the deck as he replaces his own helm upon the hook.
"We have lost a great deal of strength, as I suspect is true of Falkus if he yet lives. I would know who may still be trusted lest our forces be cut down by an ally's blade again."
Shifting from Khayon's gesture, Menstras makes to exit the bridge and seek out a dark corner of the ship to enact maintenance.
"As you wish".
Ulasht turns to Deathraven, "Come let us find a place to rest and talk".
Khayon nods to Menstras and says to him as he's leaving "If you wish we can enter their names into the ships dirge and transfer them to the first Night Lords vessel we come across."
He then turns to Ulasht and Deathraven nodding and leaves the bridge as well.
You all can hear the sounds of screams over the ships vox speakers. It sounds almost like a dying animal and continues for hours and hours.
A few hours pass and some of your brothers start dueling each other with broken pipes while others continue to clean their gear when Khayon walks in.
"Give us armoury slaves." was Lheor’s greeting to Khyaon, before he gestured to the poor wretches ‘cleaning’ his armour pieces with dirty rags. "These ones are worthless."
Khayon said, "I might consider it, if you asked nicely."
Lheor grinned but no such request came from his lips. "Why are you here Khayon?"
"For a mortuus."
All of your brothers turned to look at Lheor and Khayon now.
Lheor was silent for a moment and then began speaking the names of all your fallen brothers.
"Skall Gene-seed unrecovered. Aurgeth Malwyn, gene-seed unrecovered. Ulaster, gene-seed unrecovered. Ereyan Morcov, gene-seed unrecovered..."
This went on until all 46 of the World Eaters names were spoken and he looked at Khayon with amusement in his eyes.
"I will have their names entered into the ship’s Dirge and will transfer all records to any World Eaters vessels we encounter." Khayon said.
"Maybe you have a backbone after all, sorcerer." Lheor said grinning.
The warp. Home of the gods, of power, of the primordial truth. Home of madness, of capricious monsters, of eternal nightmares. Even one such as him, who drove off the lesser motes with force of will and the more formed things with blows from his technoarcane mace, would not last a minute. What could survive...
The Crimson Lord had refused his petition, long ago, to join their ranks. What could be more glorious than to be one with the divine? What chance remained...
"Neverborn, hear me! Mine is the blood of Lorgar, the great prophet of Chaos! The bounties of the material await for the worthiest among you! Whosever is strongest, mightiest, most cunning among you, merge with my soul! We shall walk the world of spirits and of flesh, and shall elevate each other to new heights! Who is worthy?"
You feel something caress you but can't make out it's form. A dark mist running up and down your body. It whispers to you.
"Yesss, you may be worthy... your soul fire burn bright son of Lorgar... your body is strong... your conviction however is another matter..."
It moves around you like a whisper in the wind and then you see it's face. It does not look like other neverborn. Not horned or heavily mutated, it almost looks human in form but more of a shadow. You sense it's malevolence.
"The sacrificed king must not return... he died just as the pantheon wanted... his return can not come to pass... with me we shall ensure the path of chaos continues as it should...
Deathraven turned and nodded to Ulasht before following him from the bridge. He had learned much from his time with an Alpha Legion mercenary before joining Corvis's warband. Keeping one's mouth shut and ears open was a valuable survival trait among so many disparate agendas.
"An interesting tactical choice you made on His Chosen Son, Ulasht. May I ask the reasoning that led you to believe Telemachon to be more dangerous than the unbridled daemon?"
Draex stands fastening his chains to his arms. Armored from the waist down. From the stature a huge bulky figure with stitchings and wounds covering his body. Draex's stature reminds you of the most beautifully chiseled greek diety statue you have ever seen pushed over breaking into a million pieces then attempted to be glued back together by an arthritic creature without sight. centuries of fighting in melee combat only has taken its toll upon him by which he would trade it for nothing less.
As Lheor reads each name stating geneseed unrecovered draex adds his own twist to the report
"Left to die" he says through gritted serrated teeth
"Murdered"
" forsaken"
by the 46th name draex mouth is now a bloody ruin, you see his eyes flashing the color of rage the Nails whisper mercy in exchange for vengence. Two of the world eaters try to drag draex away only to earn themselves a headbutt to the face and a punch to the chest plate knocking them over
"DONT TOUCH ME!!!, KHAYON ANYTIME YOUR READY TO SETTLE THIS IM READY RIGHT HERE" Crimson was in his hand before he realized he grabbed it gunning the activation stud
"Come get some!!!... ill send you where you can apologize to all 46 of them personally"
Khayon watches Draex without any emotion.
"I understand your mad brother, I can sense the nails biting but your directing your aggression at the wrong person. I could not simply open a portal to your ship as I require Ashur-Kai on the other end to open as well. I'm not going to explain the intricacies of Sorcery but know this, I would of saved your brothers if I could of."
Lheor slaps Khayon on the shoulder "I believe Khayon, besides Draex what better way to go then in battle! Our brothers died fighting what else more could we ask for."
Lheor looked to his brothers and showed his bronze teeth in an unpleasant smile. "We will stay. For now. Two things, What do you plan to do with Telemachon? And what is screaming over the damned Vox?"
Khayon smiles "I plan to do something unpleasant to him and that is my bloodward. I will go deal with her now."
Khayon gives Draex an nod and leaves the armoury.
Draex watches Khayon leave never taking his eyes off of him.. the nails pull the trigger on crimson a few times as Draex tries to rein in his anger..... the nails gave him the business for letting his prey leave. The stabbing of his brain brought him to his knees in gut wrenching pain
"I should have been there to die with them. Yet im here on this magician's ship chasing spooks"
blood pools from under his eyes and streaks down his face. Closest thing you will see to a world eater crying. Draex slowly stands to his feet putting crimson on his back. Holding his head he with his left the two world eaters that caught his wrath he places his right fist over his heart and raps twice. Closet they will get to an apology and disappears further in the armory
Lheor slaps you on the shoulder. "Lets go to the dueling chambers and let off some steam brothers! Leave the armour and weapons here and hopefully there will be better slaves to take care of them when we return!"
Menstras studies the blade and bolt pistol he claimed. Eyes memorizing every dimension with exacting detail. Hands judging weight and balance. Ears learning their songs. Each sound drawing his mentor back to him. Driving him deeper into the Thramas Sector.
"How can this be... we failed on Terra... we were to tear down the Emperor and usher in an age devoted to the true gods. We succeeded? We did exactly what the gods demanded? We are on the path to enlightenment? Yes, grant me the wisdom to know the path of the gods, and the power to keep the galaxy on course. Answer my prayer!"
You see the creature grin. It's manners unlike any other daemon you have ever seen. It swirls around you again and then the mist makes it's way into your armour and in to your body slowly consuming you, suffocating you. You try to stay conscious but it's no use even your enhanced body can't take it. You fade off into sleep as those around you die.
You dream of your home world when you were human, then after when you were ascended. You dream of Lorgar and Horus. You see Horus leading the great crusade. Then you see your legions enlightenment and turn from the Emperor. Horus changed, once he would listen to his council but the power corrupts him and hubris consumes him. There you can see he did not care for the war but only to take the throne, you can see the daemons desires for his death.
Slaves are sent to where you hide. You wonder how they find you but then realize your aboard two sorcerers ship. They look to tend to your armour and weapons and bring you sustenance if required. You hear the howls of a female creature over the ship vox systems. Almost sounds like music to you the screaming and pain of something foul.
Ulasht chuckles, "An interesting first topic for our discussion. Very well, if we are to work together, I suppose understanding each others tactics would be wise. In no way did I believe Telemachon to be more dangerous. My concern was that he may have had a direct hand in allowing the foul thing to slip Khayon's leash. I had hoped by killing him, Khayon may be able to regain his hold of the creature. Moreover, I was concerned that if no one paid attention to him, he may slip away in the confrontation with the Daemon, which of course I could not allow. Let us change the topic to where we go from here. Now that Corvis is expired what will you do?"
"I have pledged my service to Falkus Kibre in his quest to recover the Warmaster's flagship and stop the Emperor's Children from making a mockery of the Warmaster's memory. My Oath of Moment has not changed, even with the death of Corvis. I was not a member of Corvis's warband. Our association was one of mutual understanding. As Menstras pointed out so readily, I owe fealty to none."
You hear the buzz of servitors working behind you. Ceraxia wants a new cell constructed in the medicae bay and you stand watch over their progress. Not a job you would prefer to be doing at this time but your a soldier and obey orders.
The vox clicks in your helm and you hear the robotic voice of Valikar "Proceed to board dock 5 you have new orders awaiting you there."
He says nothing else and you know if you ask he will not respond. Valikar is almost more machine than marine at this point being your commander and leader of the Iron Warriors at Gallium.
"Yes Warsmith!"
Answers Aldegund with a neutral even voice as a soldier does when ordered, but inside he is brooding and exasperated over the possibility of overseeing yet some other servitors unloading some crates of whatever craft just docked. Aldegund feels more at home when crafting weapons of war and destruction as one of the Lyssatra would, but more than that is utilizing them to test them in the field of battle.
"One day I'll have my chance to leave my brothers who are now craven and greedy, I will carve out my own place amongst the stars, but I will first utilize this place to meet such ends even if it's putting up with this kind of tasks." as Aldegund picks up pace to reach Dock 5.
You make your way through Niobia Halo toward the dock. Majority of the works are servitors you pass and they ignore you as they do their tasks and the ones that are still human keep their heads low as you pass.
When you arrive at the dock you see Valikar with two other of your brothers and a group of Skitari warriors near a gun ship. They nod to you as you approach.
"Our scanners have detected a ship will be translating near the edge of our domain. It is not responding to any hails and doesn't even appear to have active engines. Aldegund you will be leading this group out there to intercept the ship and determine why it is here."
Adegund nods back to his brother's as he realizes this is not the average craft that is docking, when the words from the Warsmith snap him back.
Yes Warmisth, Iron Within!" as Aldegund beckons the other Iron Warriors to follow "Move out, Iron Within" as his brothers swiftly respond as they should to finish the famous Iron Warrior warcry and the sound of flesh and machine advancing in unison behind them to board the ship.
"Brothers, I would need you to navigate the ship" as he points to one of them as to have someone capable to maneuver their ship "You in charge of the ship's weapons in case they decide to test our Iron mettle." as he finally smiles "I will lead the negotiations and should they fail" as his grin widens "I will lead the skitarii and board their ship."
The gun ship leaves the doc and heads out to the location already input into the controls and you see the ship in the distance. It looks as if it has been through many battle and recent ones. You see wounds all over the vessel and does not appear to be powered on.
You see the legion markings of Sons of Horus on the side of the frigate. One of the Skitarii manning the communications reports "No response to hails lord. Scanners are showing limited life signs and engine core is cold."
Draex enters the ring, with a 3 second count down warmachines step out to greet his with murder. With the training level at its max draex works on mastering the Chains Axes. Dodging and parrying blows. Sparks fly as crimson and blood swing through the air. Sparks fly as the axes eat through steel deathbots chewing through coils, and wiring. Oil and other coolants mist the air. Parts and mechanical limbs detach from droids set on death. With a swift kick draex dispatched the last of the training mechanism.
"Is this how these wizards train barely worked up a sweat. I will not get any better with their equipment." Draex crushes one of the skulls in of the machines as be exits the ring. Going to see what else is on this pathetic ship.
"Should get some Grub"
As you and your brothers train you see the White Seer Ashur-Kai watches you sometimes. If requested to duel he declines as he does not partake in barbarism.
After some time you also see the shadow of something else watching. it looks thin and frail and has wings behind it's back.
Khayon comes to watch as well after some time. Lheor nods to him "I saw your little alien watching us." Khayon nods to the comment.
"I bet my men could beat her." Lheor snorts.
Khayon chuckles "I think not Lheor."
"I guess we can salvage this ship and possibly the crew, let us put a boarding party and I will go in" as he gathers his weapons Brothers report back, the ship is from the Sons of Horus and is a flying wreck with few survivors, we are boarding it to meet them and see if we can stop it and salvage it. Bring some servitors that can work over that engine to see if we can get it started." as Aldegund walks away to a smaller craft that will take them to the Sons of Horus ship.
Your team is able to board the frigate without incident. When you board all you see is death. Thousands of slaves and servants strewn about, blood and body parts everywhere.
One of the Skitari in front holding a strong auspex scanner turns to you. "Life signs indicated toward the bridge lord."
"Report back, we might have gene-seed that can be recovered" as Aldegund analyses the bodies as he moves forward for any significant weapon or trinket that is valuable, while taking unused grenades and magazines for his personal use later.
"How far are they?" not wasting a second to even acknowledge the skitarii existence only his answer and usefulness.
"Ship schematics indicate the source of life is on the bridge lord."
"Send some servitors to try and fix engines, we need to have some control on this ship, the rest to the bridge."
The Skitarii comply and you lead the rest toward the bridge. Throughout the ship you see much of the same, death and gore everywhere. You have not seen this much carnage in a very long time, perhaps never on a scale like this.
If the engine died and gelar fields dropped while in the storm perhaps it was overrun by daemons which appears to be the most logical explanation.
Your group finally makes it to the bridge and there you see much of the same except there are Legionaries here. 21 Sons of Horus dressed in the black of the Justarian armor and one Word Bearer in his red plate. They all appear to be unconscious but alive.
You awaken the moment these skitarii and legionnaire enter the bridge. According to your armors chronometer you have been asleep for 5 months. All your wounds are healed and you can sense the daemon inside you but it does not struggle for control.
Aldegund surveys the survivors with an indifferent sight Who is in charge here?" bellows attempting to ascertain his position of power by intimidating them a little bit, waiting for the Son of Lorgar and a Son of Horus to step forth.
Intimidate 47
There is no response from the warriors. Closer inspection of the downed warriors shows they have undergone drastic mutations except for the Word Bearer. Arms formed as weapons, tusks, etc...
Bring those that live in chains to secure they have not gone mad beyond repair, if any recovers and are clear of thought let me know." after he notices there was no one really conscious to answer.
"I gave them a chance to answer" as he thinks and smiles to himself. "This day has grown interesting indeed" as he turns and walks away.
"Let us move out, we have all we needed for now, let's report back."
Mentras grabs one of the serfs from his work.
"What is that howl?"
The serf stutters as it tries to talk "thaaattt iss iss iss the masters blood ward."
Menstras loosens his grip on the serf.
"And where is this blood ward kept?"
"In.. in.. the eerie. No ones goes there." he begins to sob.
Akkad lays for a moment, to take hold of himself and to assess the situation to a degree. It is best for a Dark Apostle to hold silent a moment and appear in control than stumble for words. After the newcomers have started moving, he puts his focus into standing as gracefully as his muscles, unused for a long time, or a brief time, or never used, who can tell the vagaries of the warp, and speaks.
"Welcome to the Baleful Eye, warship of Falkus Khibre, son of Horus. I am Akkad, Dark Apostle of the Word Bearers on pilgrimage, and Blessed Son of Lorgar."
While making the introductions, he is glancing around trying to figure out what has happened and what role these Iron Warriors play. The passenger lays dormant, for now, and it is a mystery how Falkus and his remaining warriors will react should they awaken.
I am Aldegund the Trident of Lyssatra and you are our guest for the time being Akkad, until we figure out what happened here and what the Warsmith want's to do with this drifting wreckage, you and the Sons of Horus." as Aldegund signals for the Word Bearer to approach him "Your pilgrimage has brought you to Gallium Word Bearer, but mind your Tongue this is an Iron Warrior neutral territory, now if you may accompany us." as he grins under his helmet.
"Good."
Menstras snaps the last of the seals on his helmet into place and gives a tug.
"I do enjoy my privacy after all. You may lead the way now."
The slave reluctantly leads you through the ship obviously scared for his life. You realize that there is no activity in this new area of the vessel. No servitors or slaves wander or work here. The slave begins to shake and takes off in a sprint when he turns a corner obviously more scared of what's in this area than you.
The Skitarii bind and put the still living Sons of Horus on transports as they are to heavy to carry and start loading them up on the gun ship as you two talk.
Menstras takes up a slight jog to keep pace with the fleeing serf, listening intently for the source of the wailing.
v 71 (41 + 10 skill +10 Heightened Senses +10 AutoSenses)
By time you reach the Eerie the wailing had subsided. You have been aboard a few hours but you do see some disturbing things as you wander around.
Bodies hang from ceilings obviously tortured and done very slowly by the looks of it. You hear heavy foot steps ahead as you try to listen in carefully.
Menstras grips the hilt of his ebony blade, his thumb tracing the worn pattern of the pommel. Slowly he advances towards the footsteps.
A stowaway Emperor's Child? Another daemon? Perhaps Khayon has more to hide than I anticipated.