Rumon's optics picked up the sound till he could see them. A ghastly sight to say the least, a Greenskin, A Daemon dancing in an Astarte's skin and two other "Brothers". Their armour showed them to be young as well. Not even there to see the fiasco known now as the Horus Heresy. Who knows might have been a set up to a dull joke. Listening to their musings, Rumon saw the Daemon wanting to control. They always did want to, only Word Bearers would be foolish enough to let them. Rumon knew not to be hasty, for all he knew this was a trap an illusion of some kind to make him walk into the open, only to have a knife strike from the unseen. Licking his sharpened teeth and turning off his optics, Rumon activated his lightning claw and raised his Bolt Pistol. Genestealer corpses littered the place, none of the Astartes or even the Ork suffered from Slugga rounds or Bolt rounds. How fear for survival made such creatures work together. They must have however arrived here somehow. Rumon knew he had to return to the Night Lords and they'd have the capability to do it. Although commandeering a vessel single handedly would prove... Difficult to say the least. To make any navigator do his bidding would be problematic... Lingering to their words, none of them had a vessel capable to bring them here or better to escape with. "Weaklings." Rumon hissed without knowing he'd done so. Only a few moments later he'd realised he'd spoken aloud, odd that he could swear he said it in his mind only. "Brothers, where art thou?" Rumon chuckled as he revealed himself, well more his armour's lightning did since the lights in these places rarely worked. Rumon kept a close eye on the Daemonkin, an Ork was usually unpredictable but Daemons were unknowable, safest bet was to put a couple of bolt rounds into their brain. They couldn't play out their desires when they are sent screaming back into the Warp.
Adrax looked over to the Nightlord. "Weaklings?" He repeated. The Daemonkin let out a gurgling, mutated laugh, the voice of a corrupt, horrifically self-mutilated Astartes blending with that of a Warp-Spawn. "Despite your infamy for insiting terror, you, brother, are hilarious." Adrax laughed, but the main emotion the Astartes had was confusion. The Night Lords had fallen to Chaos aeons ago, did they not? Would ten thousand years not be long enough for them to realize the Truth? The Warp was all around them, surely it would have opened their eyes by now. Still, he had a feeling the Night Lord would serve his purpose. "I am Adrax Uthuzul of the Word Bearers Legion. The Dark Gods sent me to this Space Hulk for purposes beyond my own knowledge."
The sight of the Daemon was enough alone to make Rumon skin crawl, it's voice however made his blood boil. He would silence that creature soon. "If I willed for you to scream, you'd hear nothing but it. I could tell your foul Legion from the other side of the Hulk. Do not think of me as some child who's never seen beyond his own helmet." Rumon barked back. Waiting a moment as he moved closer to the gathered group. "We all know your Legion, Word Bearer, the ones who ran like whipped dogs at Siege of Terra to the Eye. Indulge me for a moment if you will, how did it feel to flee like weaklings and dogs for safety?" Rumon couldn't help chuckling at the Word Bearers, for their claims of divinity they still hid like children from the Imperium's wrath. Rumon felt a crackle of lighting pass over his claw, behind his helmet he couldn't help but grin.
"Aint from 'round 'ere." The words echoed through the air, the sounds of the ork's own voice mixed with a shift in tone that coloured every syllable, shifting it's tone, so that, while recognizable, it was inherently different. The Adonis stood tall, it's faceless gaze turning from the ork, to the possessed, to the renegade, as he paused to consider his next move. He felt the ever present pulsation of the final item he'd be gifted by his benefactor, it's tempo having increased ever so slightly, that he himself wasn't sure he'd imagined it. Yet, as the stalker made his presence known, and the fallen lapdog brought about a single thought of combination together, one development rang within the mind of the traitor. "Imperium..." The word hung in the air, Raug hearing his own words twisted and shifted by the replayed audio that emitted from the helm of The Adonis. The word would bear hints of anger, and yet weariness, for while The Adonis had no qualms in facing those who shackled themselves into servitude their entire petty existence, he was here for a reason, and could not allow for Imperial forces to hamper his procession, no he had little time for this. The next phrase came forth, an almost daemonic fusion of the voice of Adrax, Raug, and even Nutstompah, the synthesizing of noise tainted by shifts in pitch, and shadowed by the sound of another being, bearing hints of horror and happiness simultaneously. "New to da Hulk, yeah! I was sent here...for purposes beyond...survival. Whoever you are...Trapped...I would help you...leave this Hulk..." The Adonis let the words be heard by all, letting the offer sink in to each of their minds, before he'd continue. Now, Rumon would hear his own words enter into the replications. "I...know...not...where art...purposes beyond my own knowledge... combine our strength...is a dangerous game...but...if I willed...to leave...from 'round 'ere...means more...leave this Hulk..."
The Word Bearer simply laughed. "We all fled, Night Lord. If you did not, you'd be dead. Fleeing a lost battle is not cowardice, it is strategy." Adrax swiftly changed the subject. "I recommend a alliance between all of us. The Imperials are here, and in force, so unless we fortify this Hulk and uncover a secret to fight them off, our time here will be short."
"And I thought my Gothic was bad... My apologies, Brother, I didn't realise the III Legion also had brothers here, I assumed your III at least. Should have been able to tell from the... Outfit, you're wearing." Rumon felt it amusing to see a ragtag band of fools and madmen here. This Brother now that Rumon paid attention to realised how distorted his armour was, looked more like a reptile's skin than metal, amusing how it tried to cling to darkness but that voice was irritating. Rumon wasn't sure but it seemed more like the Astarte had been mutilated rather than possessed but with those who follow the Dark Prince it could well be both. Damned misguided fools. Rumon was brought back to the Word Bearer's corrosive voice but could do nothing other than smile gleefully at a Word Bearer's claim their cowardice was anything other than that. "Of course it is, how many years has it been since you made your faces known? The Imperium now believes you're nothing more than a myth. A tale to scare children at night. Myself and my brothers carved a chunk of the Imperium for our own, while you and your Legion hide away killing each other. Oh yes even those outside of the Eye heard of the Slave Wars." Rumon enjoy goading the Word Bearer, nothing more enjoyable than toying with prey. "Well depends, I've been here for many a year now. Why should I worry about this incursion? They come and die or scurry away. They always do. I need not care. But pray tell, what is this secret you wish to uncover? Superstitious nonsense that the Aurelian believed would win us the war?" It had been too long since Rumon had spoken with another, the enjoyment to be had in poking fun was such a delight.
Adrax did not respond at first. His pride was wounded, but he didn't want to continue a useless argument. "I am not here for reasons I understand. The Gods sent me here. One moment I was in the Warp, the next I was here. Now about the Incursion: I sense multiple Loyalist chapters with them. Yes, they come and die or scurry away so far, but death is always a possibility. One we should be keen to avoid."
Simus was in his quarters aboard the Candle of Faith, sitting in a massive swivel chair at a large metal desk and thinking over recent events. His initial meeting had not gone as planned to say the least. The presence of another space marine chapter in the area was certainly welcome but it was also an unexpected surprise. Admiral Quinn seemed cordial enough and didn't have any trouble showing proper respect but it was a little strange to hear from him rather than the Lord Admiral that was supposed to be commanding the fleet. Quinn had told him that the Lord Admiral had yet to arrive and was on a very tight schedule but offered little else as the man was juggling at least three different conversations at that point. Simus understood how demanding a Lord Admiral's time was but an audience to a space marine company was not something to be delegated. Perhaps he simply had great faith in Quinn's abilities and Simus was reading too much into it. Then there was Commander Mortwich, the first imperial servant in a long time that genuinely concerned Simus. He had tried to stay out of her mind as a matter of courtesy but some of his probing still got through out of sheer habit and she had been actively resisting him. She had been giving off almost hostile feelings towards him and his brothers. She didn't want to be here, she didn't trust the Boros Paladins and she wanted this hulk destroyed. That was of course a distinct possibility and as the Master of Ordinance for her ship she should be prepared for that bu he suspected she would do it regardless of what they found and that greatly concerned him. The only reason the Tomb of Madmen hadn't been destroyed already was because there was something very valuable here. Valuable enough to send an entire battlefleet to secure the area and at least ten regiments of Guardsmen to secure it. This vessel had to be explored and anything of value, no matter its state or corruption, had to be cataloged and if possible salvaged. It very well may need to be destroyed in the end but that would be an absolute last resort and Simus would not let one commander, no matter how honored, get in the way of that. He had mused long enough. He had work to do before the battle and he had best get to it. Activating his cogitator he accessed its word files and created a blank page. After a short prayer of recording and accuracy to its machine spirit he began to type. War journal of Codicier Simus Psyrakon, Boros Paladins 4th company commanding Time of entry: 1600 hours Candle of Faith time, 16th day of the 4th month, year 16 M42 We have arrived at the Tomb of Madmen after four days warp travel from the Progressio system and our own fortress monastery on Boros. The Imperial Navy arrived one week ahead of us and has established a cordon around the unholy vessel. Their fleet is fully prepared to plumb the depths of the Tomb of Madmen and lay it secrets bare but I have concerns about some of its command structure. The Lord Admiral of the fleet has yet to contact me and has instead delegated our coordination efforts with Admiral Thomas Quinn. He seems to be a fine servant of the Emperor and has given much of his body in serving Him but such a meeting is unusual. The real concern is with his first officer, Commander Elisa Mortwich. She has a clear dislike for my brothers and I and while this is not uncommon among those of status in the Imperial Navy her feelings against me in particular are strong enough to where she may work against us. A dialogue with Admiral Quinn reveals that Mortwich does not wish to be here and does not believe we will find anything of value. She may decide not to assist us in or scouring of this vessel or worse, attempt to destroy it prematurely. Our mission is to scour this rotting husk of metal for any and all archeotech, regardless of condition, and return these holy relics to the Emperor's service if at all possible. If every effort is not made to accomplish this then we have failed in our mission and that would bring shame or even suspicion of heresy upon all our heads. I must make Mortwich see this but as of now I have no idea as to how. Perhaps the answer will come to me in time. For now, we prepare to board the Tomb of Madmen and get our first look inside. The Navy has already started establishing a bastion inside a large cargo bay so that is where we shall land. Captain Uhasi of the Burning fists has agreed to coordinate his efforts with ours and I look forward to exploring, and fighting, alongside my fellow space marines. May the Emperor protect our souls and keep our hearts and minds pure and should we die aboard that cursed vessel may we bring His eternal light to shine upon it forever.
When Raug heard how Adonis toyed with the sounds of their voices he gave a deep slow laugh. "Marvelous." he said, ignoring the argument between the posessed and the Night Lord. He walked to a genestealer corpse and poked it with his power axe and for a minute pondered if he should taste it's flesh. "They call me Raug. Raug the Cannibal actually." He said giving a cold flash of a smile to all in the room. "We should prepare for the Imperium. I suggest taking one alive in an ambush and...interrogate...it to determine their purpose here." Raugs' cold smile grew crueler when he used the word "interrogate".
"You don't really know then that death comes for us all, you'll eventually die as shall we all. Not even your Gods can stop death." Rumon even though his helmet covered his features was more stern faced as he spoke the words. The knowledge of the Word Bearers always seemed to be more prophetic than actually able to say what is going on. Enough of this though, Rumon knew he could spent all the days of his life laughing at the Word Bearers but the other Astarte decided to speak up. "Greetings, I assume you earned your name through actions." Rumon chuckled, he hadn't had this much fun in years. "You're proposal intrigues me, been many years since I've had a chance to hone my skills in such a craft. Depends on what the Imperium brings, it'd be beyond foolish for us to try and take Terminators on. Even striking from the shadows we'd fail to kill them." Rumon liked this Astarte 'Raug', plain speaker and didn't dance around. A million times better than those who either fail to speak with their own voice and actions or drone on.
