Deep in the station... @Colapse

... Simeon was growing restless. There was a primal instinct in him, one he nurtured and cherished, one that drove him to kill and instructed him when he did. It was hardwired into him, as natural as breathing would be to a lesser man. The rush of cold down his back, blended with the pumping, searing heat in his veins, was a drug to him. Right now, the same instinct screamed in the back of his mind as he stalked the dark corridors of the station, begging him to swing the chainaxe that felt oh-so-heavy in his hands right into the neck of a passing worm. He almost did it, but composed himself. It was neither the time, nor the place, and he hadn't prepared. It would be sloppy. Unelegant. Worthy of Khorne, no doubt, but not to Simeon's tastes.

Instead, he stalked a small gaggle of slaves and their master through a couple corridors. The slaves were carrying sacks of something or other. The chainaxe felt heavy in his hand, but he had a better idea. Even as he got closer, he drew his bolt pistol and lined up three shots. Then he squeezed the trigger, pop, pop, pop. The back row of the slaves crumbled, decapitated by the vicious bolter round to the neck. Their master spun around in alarm, his remaining slaves dropping their sacks. Simeon anticipated this. Another three squeezes of the trigger, and they fell to the floor, dead. The marine checked the corpses, then dragged them all inside an unoccupied hangar bay. He upended one of the sacks, dropping spices all over the corpses --- a morbid fancy wondered what it'd taste like, but he pressed it out of his mind for now --- and rounded up the heads, storing them in one of the sacks. I won't be carrying ten times as many all by myself, the marine mused to himself. But I could carry a dozen heads in each sack. Now there's a thought.

He resumed stalking the corridors. At one point, two slaves carrying the unmistakable barrels used to store promethium passed him by. They were two more skulls to his pile, but more importantly... the prometheum was a resource. At this point, the abandoned hangar had become something of a headquarters for him. He ventured out, collected skulls from the slaves, the mutants, and the other wretches, and returned to add them to his pile. One barrel of promethium was kicked, and doused a number of poor souls in hellish flames as it rolled over the floor. The skulls were a little bit blackened, but they were fine. They fit neatly in with all the other skulls.

His collection was growing at a steady pace - he figured that in this great space station, sixty disappearances were hardly the stuff of concern, so long as he did not endanger the general integrity of the station or destroy the property of someone important - and time really did fly when you were having fun.

"I am inexperienced indeed, given it was just a few hours ago when I experienced revelation and freedom from the Imperial shackles, so forgive me my lack of knowledge." Solara said with sincerity as she observed his actions and listening to him.

"So... How can I train? How can I utilize my powers.... Without dooming myself? I wish to learn to utilize them." She rose from her seat and marched up to Knives. "Can you aid me in that endeavor, Brother of Blood? I want to use the powers lurking within. I require to unlock them to show my true potential, to be my own mistress, free from all shackles! To craft my own legacy!" While speaking with passion, or rather hope, she stepped closer to him, standing amidst the sacrifices for the Blood God, with just a foot distance between the two mortal psykers.

OOC like @Kalle did, @matt23 @Avenging-Angel feel free to write down your own carnage posts, this asteroid station was not really that big but it's not small either, so nobody will notice disappearances of 300 slaves and mutants. So let your imagination run wild


<Nova's Room> @Maleth @Vulpas @Skarboy

Leaning forward to check Wych's neck, Nova's eyes widened a bit before replying. "Ugh...I think I know what that is, but we'll need to talk in private. I'm not sure if you are going to like what I have to tell you."

In order for their conversation to remain somewhat inconspicuous, the girl returned to her normal position and turned to address Lucien before answering Mortia. "Mister Lucien, there's a box by the door for you. Consider it a present since you were kind enough to save me and guard me from all the things on this ship, I thought that it was only proper if I thanked you in some way you'd prefer. During your mission, I took liberty to wander around this ship, met lots of interesting people who showed me that this ship was actually, an Inquisitorial ship before it got taken over by Chaos and stuff. But not to bore you with it much, I managed to find couple of interesting items, like this hellpistol I got and well, that thing in the box which is for you. Hope you'll like it!"

"And Miss Mortia...well, where do I start. Alright, as for enhancing your powers, I guess the best way is to sell your soul right?" she laughed before continuing, "Truth to be told, I have no idea. Perhaps logical advice for stopping them to backfire on you would be - practicing more!"

Then her mood grew a bit darker at mentioning Dorn's Doom. "He..It came to me before you did...I can't say I liked the encounter but I did expect something like this would happen the moment that guy Urtus came to me asking about it. But I though you knew what you were dealing with, that's why I didn't say much...guess I was wrong. Honestly, the stuff I got in my database is more Ordo Hereticus than Ordo Malleus, if you know what I mean? No? Well, thing is, I don't have much knowledge about specific Daemons, thing about Dorn's Doom is that he was locked in our neighborhood so they thought it was prudent to have such knowledge in me in case something bad happens."

"But what I can tell you is that there are lots of references to him resurfacing around to plague our Imperium for better part of the last ten thousand years. I said our Imperium...eh, sorry for that. Records show that he is responsible for destruction of at least two Space Marine Chapters, more than few hundred Imperial worlds, some sources even confirm that he is just what his name says - Dorn's Doom, that he played a pivotal part in killing that old Lord. That is really hearsay but it is interesting that Black Templars hunted him down for quite a long time and were the ones who captured him. His power was apparently too great and they lacked the means of banishing it completely, so they locked him in a prison of sorts. Since his agents were many, they changed place of that prison numerous of times in fear they would locate him and unleash it once again on the galaxy. Eventually, they ended up on that world Molov Secundus and held him there for the last 500 years before this happened..."

"The only other thing I can say is that Khorgar or whatever his real name is, is a powerful servant of the Blood God however a tad bit different than you might expect. Apparently, he has martial honor, justice in battle and that knightly sort of crap high on his list of priorities because rumor has it, he was a knight himself once. Or maybe not. I mean, who cares. No matter how righteous he might make it sound, he still gonna kill you and devour your soul if he wants to, so meh. Maybe good thing is that you might talk your way out of it, given the fact he needs some time to get to that "mad berserker" type of guy. And a final warning - scrips show that he was way way way more powerful than what I saw today which means he's not there yet. When that happens, I sincerely hope I won't be here to witness it."

"And as for my personal history...no, I'm not a psyker although I have that thing inside that makes me shoot lighting bolts in case you try to tamper with my brain...but other than that, eh, let's leave that story for another time?"

The time had come for the hunt to begin and Horatius was the hunter. After it did begin, however; a better name to suit it would be closer to a massacre instead. Mutants, slaves, and traders all easily fell victim to Horatius' thirst. After each was drained of their blood, their head was torn from their shoulders and all the skin was pull off by hand. He carried a large sack with him to store all these tributes to their new 'Lord', which he had specifically requested. Once he reached fifty, however; he quickly realized that all the skulls he had gathered were of the weak and none from those who could fight back. Horatius had to change this for his own pride and so set out and found a patrol of ten Iron Warriors who he drew into a back ally. The fight was not easy and left Horatius a little injured but none the less he had his prize which he then brought back to the ship to unload.

Once he reached the ship, before he returned to Lord Khorgar, he went to the medical bay where they had called him to let him know they had something very special for him. Once he entered the medical bay the workers and serfs had him lay down and then began their work. What they had was a bionic arm that had been found by a trader on the body of a dead and abandoned Blood Drinker space marine. It was identified as such by the markings and writings that covered the arm from head to toe. After about an hour, their work was finished as Horatius sat up and began to make basic movements to test his new mechanical appendage. It seemed to work great but to Horatius, the newly appointed Harold, it would not due in it's current fashion. He changed this by taking it to the dark chapel, where he began a dark blessings ritual on the bionic arm. He walked over to the altar of Khrone where he dipped the entire arm into a pool of blood, praying prayers of blood, gore, and death the entire time. One he had finished he carved symbols of Khrone and Lord Khorgar up and down the entire arm. He finally finished it and exited the dark chapel.

@Colapse
Horatius entered the new throne room in which Lord Khorgar still sat in. With a great amount of pride, Horatius walked over to the feet of Khorgar, took a knee, took out his large bag, and dumped out fifty-five slave, mutant, and trader skulls at his feet. He then took out a Khrone symbol covered chest and opened it to reveal ten skulls neatly lined up in two rows of five. Each of them was the obvious skulls of a space marine and the mechanics still attached identified them as belonging to the Iron Warriors legion. Each of the skulls had a large symbol of Khrone on the top of the skull and a medium sized symbol of Khorgar's on their forehead. He extended his arms, holding the chest straight out at Khorgar and spoke, "I have done what you have ask, Lord Khorgar, to honor your name."

Ziik'neri sighed softly as she walked out of the cantina. Nothing of interest there after all. She was already carrying 6 skulls, belonging to a couple of cultists which had found it interesting to insult her. She looked around casually, before walking towards her quarters and opening her door. She walks into her small room, the strange smelling candles causing a small mist of strange odor to come out into the corridors. She sits down on her bed, placing the skulls infront of her side by side, before she starts to meditate, muttering something that almost sounds like a primal chant.

Being hit by a double-blow of bad news, with the first one being Nova revealing of what Khorgar was capable of and the second blow being the fact that the mark wasn't a good thing as Nova had hinted at, Latrynix was feeling out of her depth given that the smoke-Eldar told her she was chosen, but given Nova's concern over the neck mark.... She wasn't so sure about that. Either way it still didn't change the fact she was going to have to banish the Daemon, even if she was saving more people than just herself in the long run.

Her physical reaction to it all was an audible gasp when Nova told the truth, given the scale of the revelation was something that couldn't be held purely in the mind. After all, who could remain stoic in the light of the knowledge their boss could very well end up something far more terrible and dangerous to everyone, regardless of species.

Mortia- @Colapse
Mortia somewhat frowned as she heard the Information about Khorgar, Destroying two space marine chapters. Now that seemed to be quite a feat a troubling one to think about to even consider he was more powerful as well. Damiam would likely wan't to know that as well. She decided to change the subject. "So what was it like growing up in a Governor's Family?" She asked trying to putting off troubling thoughts.

OOC: I promise I won't always write this much, but since I basically got a free pass to knock myself out with the descriptions of carnage, by Khorne I will. Won't overdo it when I actually have other players to roleplay with again.

< In a great hall... > @Colapse

Gods know this should be worth the trouble, the stalker mused. He had submerged himself in the corpses of his past victims, lying in wait while he watched a long hall through the scope of his stalker bolter. He took his time. He wanted to savor the last few kills, and was therefore going about the last phase of the carnage in a leisurely fashion. His idle imagination fantasized about the indulgences he could afford himself when this task was done with. The mental images played dully in his mind while he concentrated on the task at hand. Business before pleasure.

He'd observed a pattern. A routine. Those were deadly. He watched his chrono while waiting for his expected prey to round the corner. Some priesthood or other was sending its clerics on a small path. It appeared to be some kind of ritual specific to the station, because they stopped at regular intervals and said prayers in unfamiliar tongues. He had no understanding nor care for it. Two minutes, he thought glumly. If they were on time, a cultist would come around the corner in two minutes.

And then she appeared. A youthful priestess, with serious, deep, violet eyes that belonged to a much older woman, and smooth, soft cheeks. Ageless and stunning. Even through the scope, he found her quite enthralling. There were three chances for the shot through the hall - three stops in her ritual. She came to the first, and began saying her prayers joyfully. He watched the ritual to its completion, and then she walked on, to the second spot. Once again, he watched her as she prayed. When she was finished, she moved on to the third site. Now or never, Simeon thought. The ritual was coming to an end. If he let her complete this time, his plan would be spoiled. He turned his scope to the priestess' face, and for a moment, he thought their eyes met. And then he squeezed the trigger.

The shot dug through her mouth while it was wide ajar in prayer, silencing her devotions and replacing them with gurgling death. The cold, the rush, crept down his back. He emerged from the pile of corpses, and stepped over to the fallen priestess. He nudged her head with his boot, turning her head to look up at him. What beautiful prey. He cut her head from her body, and put it in the sack with the others. Whatever she was in life, she was nothing special in death.

He'd been watching one of the mutants aboard the station. A foul thing. Tall, with multiple arms. The stingers were venomous, judging by the small sacs under each of them. But he'd spotted a weakness. And now he was going to exploit it. He jogged up behind the mutant, chainaxe in hand, his footfalls hidden by the sound of the bustling crowd. He raised his chainaxe, its blades still. It had a long, hooked blade, with just enough space for a neck... he swung. The mutant gasped as the cold steel hugged his throat, the stationary teeth of the saw even drawing blood. And then the stalker activated the chain, splattering himself in blood. The cry of the chainaxe drowned the mutant's cries.

< Black Rain's Hangar > @Colapse @matt23

With a trolley he had procured from some slaves who'd also been kind enough to give donations to his collection of skulls, Simeon brought the five sacks of skulls to the Black Rain's hangar. He approached the ship, demanding entrance. He had gathered Lord Khorgar's skulls.

Asteroid Station - Visitors' Accommodation
Yasmilina silently ghosted through the corridors of the station, her razorflails in hand. The wych wore a belt of skulls, all of them claimed from those who thought the woman would be easy prey, and others had been stashed in an apartment Yasmilina had taken over.

As the dark eldar was hunting the station's visitors she was undisturbed in her work, knowing that no cult or warband would display weakness by calling for help. It also meant though that her victims were limited in number. Returning to the apartment Yasmilina bundled the two dozen skulls into a hastily-made sack before heading off to find a new hunting ground.

[OOC: Not finished yet!]

<Nova's Room> @Vulpas @Skarboy @Maleth

"Growing up was...eh, if I said bad it would be hypocritical of me. I had everything I wanted and desired, but only because of what I was worth to my father. You know, I wasn't born like this," Nova sighed and pointed at her head, "They made me like it, a successful experiment, to a degree at least. So, without me wanting to go deeper into explaining it, let's just say that for the next step in my "evolution" as my father liked to call it, there was a price to be paid and he wanted to pay it for me. Thankfully, at that time there were some people with more sense who helped me escape. But since you showed up, I guess I wasn't that successful in my run..."


@Uriel1339 OOC ofc, speak to Nova if you wish, no problem with that - we can do it simultaneously like usual


<Skull Harvest> @matt23 @Kalle (OOC and anyone else who wishes to know how Khorgar looks now )

The hangar door for former Flesh Tearers marine was open, allowing him to enter the dark corridors of "Black Rain". Maybe through luck or something else, the malignant influence at center of the ship guided Simeon's step and he would eventually reach the Bridge, where he saw a number of interesting individuals, not counting the small army of servitors and various mutants that worked behind their consoles, keeping the ship itself at its maximum working capacity.

There was a big cylindrical tube filled with some kind of fluid near the center of the room where a naked human female floated, her eyes completely blank while her hair was a mess of mechanized "tentacles" connected her head with the interfaces located on top of the tube. Near the entrance to the Bridge he also saw a huge figure armored in archaic set of black power armor, at least a head taller than your normal Space Marine, who hefted equally big two handed hammer which gave impression that it could split Rhino in half.

But what was more important is that he saw Blood Angels Chaplain who welcomed him earlier, bowed before a throne made of skulls overseeing the entire chamber, where a man wearing brass power armor sat upon. He was also a bit bulkier than your regular Space Marine, the places on his armor where armor joints should be were intertwined with daemonic flesh and muscle. Instead of weapons, his hands ended up in long and sharp claws that were now examining one skull Horatius provided him with, the gaze of his eyes, the orbs of ember fire with the color of burning blood, turned from the Chaplain and onto the newcomer.

"You did well Herald," he spoke as his gaze shifted, "And I see you brought us another gift. Step forward Flesh Tearer, I sense the call of blood burning within you like a raging fire. What is it that you seek?"