If there was any point that one could think that Terix was impressed, it was now. His helm tilted ever so slightly to the side, a mannerism that no normal human being could catch but spoke a bit to the eyes of an Astartes.
"... I see that the gene-seed has given you more than the looks of a Raven Guard, it gave you the brains of one too. Or it was your upbringing; either way, you earned yourself some porridge when you get on the ship."
@Jorimel

Dyromedes nodded in agreement to the Raven's response. That was one of the mistakes Horus had, he was invested too much into the chaos revolving around all and everything, not on the mission. Also, no power in the world replaces machines.

"As for Agri-World compared to an Industrial World. Truly it depends on our warbands current state. We Astartes may not need much food, water and rest. But what about the core of our army? They are mere mortals, not blessed with the gene-seed, multi-lungs, and various other additional organs. If they are withering from the lack of resources, we should replenish them as soon as possible."

"Now if it is equipment or people themselves we need, an Industrial World makes far more sense. They are able men, hard workers, living with modern equipment and in hubs or even small hives which will make an attack far easier to hit one concentrated spot. Agri-Worlds tend to be far scattered, attack one town, they might be able to warn the others and by the time we arrive anywhere else they are reinforced already."

"Not to forget. The Industrial World will have a Planetary Defense Force we could sway on our side if we destroy their leadership before reinforcements arrive, taking them into our ranks, tell them the truth of the treason of their Emperor. The only challenge will be to keep it at a swift assault and not a prolonged siege." He bowed slightly towards his new lord.

Lezan looked at the Raven Guard as he replied, green eyes meeting black ones and betraying none of their master's emotions. Still, his compatriot's words only cemented his original sentiments of the fellow astartes: one of silent respect. Not having much to reply, the astartes gave a slight, but appreciative nod to Nykton, before turning back to the massive terminator and his second to await judgment. Alas, Lezan did not have to wait long for one.

The Chaos Lord spoke, before walking off to decide with their sellers on an acceptable price for both parties. The remaining space marine, named Terix, seemed unimpressed with them, and regaled them with the situation with their new war band, for lack of a better word. While Lezan did not enjoy the idea of joining such a minor force, as each task would fall on each shoulders equally as would their individual lethality, their leader's ability to admit their own weakness gave way to a situational awareness that might hopefully keep them from any suicide attacks. Too many leaders blind themselves with delusions and pride, especially after gaining patronage of one of the dark gods. Usually, it was those under their command that paid the price of hubris.

Terix immediately set off, testing both the Horusan and the Raven's Son with situational questions. Lezan agreed with the Raven Guard's assessment; a dark apostle may bring about the power of the warp, but daemons and their masters were fickle beings at best, treacherous at worst. Dealing with them with such a small force at the moment would grant them none of the bargaining power they need to pay whatever price exacted for the neverborn's assistance, forcing them into the debts of manipulators and liars. That could prove a road one do not return from.

A war smith had no such limitations for a small force. They have a thousand uses, should they prove cooperative. If not, at the very least they would be another gun on the field against the enemy. Lezan's gaze flash back to the Horusan as he gave his answer. It was adequate, but less than what he would have asked. What were the purposes of the strike at all? Needs would dictate the targets to be sure, but then there wouldn't have been a choice. The astartes also noticed that the Son of Horus never actually made a choice, taking the option instead to cover both basis. A smart decision, even if it could be considered a non answer by Terix.

Lezan returned his eyes back to their leader. He would personally select the industrial world. They were a war band, and those that would suffer from lack of food in their ranks either lacked the constitution to last until the next meal or the strength to usher that next meal forward faster. During their training, even in the moment they clad themselves in power armour, the trainers taught them that their equipment were worth more than their lives. This must hold true a thousand times for the mortal ranks. They could be replaced, but a regiment's worth of armour, weapons, and supplies? That could very well worth its weight in gold in the marketplaces they ventured, outside of the Imperium sanctioned supply network.

But Lezan kept his mouth shut. These were trials for the Son of Horus and Corax, not him. Not directly at least, and he would content himself with speaking only when addressed. The fingers began their pacing upon the handle once more, the time of peril passing as the Raven's Son received his reward.


@Jorimel

The Raven Guard nodded his head in a small bow of acknowledgement as Terix spoke. Despite the jesting tone, it would seem that his words had been recieved well. Besides, he liked porridge. It stuck to one's ribs. Nothing like it to set one up for a long day's hunt.

With that came a flash of memory, distant but vivid, of himself as a youth, hunting bow in hand, curled in as small a space as possible while he waited for - and that was it. All he was getting from the past this time. The sensory fragment was incomplete, as they so often were since his ascension. Little darts of remembrance struck home, but the rest were seemingly replaced by the programming of rote and muscle memory. Or perhaps they were merely overlaid, like nacre on a pearl.

He listened as Dyromedes made his answer, or rather, he didn't. He gave two, dependant on what the warband needed. Then he summed up which path would be the best given more data. Nykton thought it fair to wish for more information, but he considered, briefly, that there were shorter ways of saying "I don't know". He pondered what his own answer would be, but kept his counsel as he often did. The Raven Guard stepped back a little to allow the Horusian to take centre stage, falling in beside the Lion's Son once more. The briefest smile showed in return for the nod: the appreciation that they thought along similar lines. He hoped that that was a good omen for future battle together.

The industrial complex, that's what he'd have chosen. The warband had men - they had been told that much - and soldiers needed materiel. And while an agri-world might specialise in raw crops, they raised them for export to the manufactorums, so they would be very unlucky not to score some provisions to go with their ammunition and so forth there.

Terix soon nodded to the Astartes recruits in front of him, one gauntlet now resting upon the handle of his sword - not in any threatening manner, but simply holding it. His gaze turned outwards towards other groups as he spoke, his voice calm and relatively low.
"An understandable comparison, Wolf; if that was what I wished to know, I would be pleased." He said, before glancing over. It hadn't taken more than two strides before he was in front of Dyromedes, and gave his chest a light shove - enough to at least send him a stumble.

"But it is not. I asked which you would strike. I do not care of the advantages of each, I know them. What I ask, is which you would take first. Perhaps your black-haired brother can enlighten you on how to make up your mind and give a proper answer, by the time I have another theoretical question to ask. However," Terix stepped back soon afterwards, now raising his helm a bit and looking upon each of them. His gaze seemed a bit more serious now, and with that, he motioned them to follow.
"As I've said. We're to go out and find more manpower, more resources - everything we'll need to be a warband in our own right. As such, here is why I ask you these questions. I wish to know if you are at least competent, and I know at least one of you is capable of giving a true answer. So, Here's another question."

The 'squadron' made their way towards a Thunder hawk coloured in a mixture of blacks, reds and gold with a stripe of white running along the side of the hull. At either side were two more space marines armed with their combi-bolters - twin boltguns forged together into one weapon - with equally black armour, half their grim helms painted a dark red. Their armour was personalized to some extent, one having what looked to be a MK IV helmet with blue eyeslits along with a bulked up pauldron with trinkets and sigils - of surprisingly, non-chaotic origins - along his plate, with the other keeping a more modern MK VII helm with the grim vox-grilles set in it, his own eyeslits being a bright emerald green.

Terix gave both of them a curt nod, the former of which returned it whilst the latter watched the newbloods follow the renegade Champion inside the transport. "You see- I was considering taking some of the... Renegades, at our disposal, normal humans along with one of the Commanders. We have ourselves a regiment's worth of the men and women. But it was on seeing you all, that I'd decided that instead of that, you shall aid me in this."
"There's a world that is being raided by Chaos forces - a Black Legion warband, with numerous... Individuals, in them. The world itself is a civilized world, but it does have its own forges for vehicles. Mostly lighter vehicles, however it would mean getting more for ourselves. I have little idea as to whom is there, however I have some suspicions; old names that I scarcely remember, yet respect of fondly. Upon getting there, we shall see if they yet live and if we can persuade them to join us."

A minute went by while they waited for the Terminator Lord to return, and return he did; his bulky chest held a bit higher, and his waddle - for walking in battle-plate that turned one into a true, living tank was only possible as such - was certainly more confident.
"Arkunar, ready the ship for takeoff; our business is done here. Drop the cargo, and lead us back to the Storm."

"At once, Lord Osterios; launch is due in approximately, two minutes and fifteen seconds for the engines to warm up and the cogitators to path our exit." The pointed helm of the Cataphractii soon turned, looking silently at the recruits while he moved towards the back of the transport itself, leaving them with Terix in front, and the two guards now moving to join Their Lord.

"'The Storm', we call her - our strike cruiser." Terix elaborated. "The Hateful Storm. She's seen the Great Crusade, and the Battle of Terra. We've done our best to keep the beauty in shape, and some run-ins with the Dark Mechanicum have allowed us adequate repairs. Something that we have no knowledge of; we have no techmarines, or any who are actually tech-minded. As such, our equipment is... We tend to what we can. But things such as what few plasma guns we have, or somesuch, are kept in stasis for the time being and only brought out when truly needed lest we let time decay their workings."
Soon, the thunderhawk's engines would cough and snarl, now coming to life and getting higher and higher in pitch; the flooring would shake and the rampart's servo actuators groaning with effort as they lifted it and closed the transport, soon sealing it entirely. The pitch black was replaced with an amber glow from overhead lights, and soon, brought to a 'normal' lighting as proper ones were activated as well.

Lezan remained impassive as Terix admonished the indecision and non answer of Dyromedes. He had no love for the would be leader, who continuously attempted to lump him in with his statements of grandeur and ambition. Yet the astartes held no ill will against the Son of Horus either; so long as Dyromedes did not jeopardised the scion of Lion's own life, he would treat the other in a neutral fashion. So he felt no pleasure at the Son of Horus feeling Terix's displeasure, and when their leader finished reprimanding the Son of Horus and informing them of the status with their war band at the moment, the better equipped astartes turned and began walking away.

Knowing that they had been summoned along, Lezan reached up and, with a methodical precision that clashed strangely with the massive digits of his gauntlet, tied his long blond hair up, and put on his helmet. With a hiss the power armour sealed itself with the last piece of the suit, and the astartes followed their leader outward, with the same predatory care that seemed inherited from his primarch. Unlike those of the original First Legion however, or Terix, he did not sheathed his chainsword at his side, as a knight might. The chainsword instead found its way to Lezan's back, with the grip and pommel sticking out over one of his shoulder, for quick draw into an overhead smash if needed.

Closer to the transports, Lezan noticed that their new leadership had not been the only ones settled in their decision. Nearby, a large transport began loading up the newly minted Iron Warriors, with the Warsmith looking pleased with the troops. The astartes marched in formation up the loading ramp and into its depths. Lezan turned back to their own destination; if their studies had contained any accuracy, then he did not envy those lot. The Iron Warriors specialised in siege tactics, the kind where thousands of men gets thrown against fortifications until there was enough bodies for the next wave to use as a ramp up to the battlements. Not many would survive their first trial by fire, fewer past their second.

Spotting the thunder hawk, Lezan gazed at the paint scheme on it, not recognising the identification, though the knowledge they had been imparted with had been woefully spare and not kept up to date, so he was not surprised. At the entrance ramp, two astartes with combi-bolters stood at ready. The younger space marine looked upon the two, and were it not for the helmet, one might have noticed a glint of admiration in a pair of green eyes as they scanned over the Mk IV and Mk VII power armour, as well as the combi-bolter. Still, he did little than to hold the latter space marine's gaze for a moment, before stepping into the transport after Terix, listening to their leader's words and details on their next mission.

Once inside, Lezan stood to the side of the transport, close to the middle of its full length but not quite, as Terix finished his impromptu briefing. Evidently they would piggy back off of a Black Legion invasion and attempt to coerce a few of their numbers to join them instead. Sounds simple enough, though depending on infiltration, enemy encounters and exit strategy, things could get messy very quickly. He doubted that they would get much more gear than what they were given back in the facility, but hopefully this might be a chance to get something worthwhile planetside. Just as a question formed in his mind, the Terminator Lord Osterios appeared once more.

Climbing on board the transport, their new Chaos Lord announced that they had indeed been purchased, and he intended to be away from this place as soon as possible. Lezan felt the tremors under his feet as the heavy armour of the tactical dreadnought stroll past him, the younger space marine looking back at the Chaos Lord as the observational gaze passed over each and every one of the new Dusk Lords as he headed to the back of the transport, flanked by the guards from outside. Afterward, the briefing continued, though little good news came out of it: the strike cruiser that would form their home, as well as most of the technology within it, had lacked the proper maintenance of a proper heretek, or warsmith. Thus much gear would not be available, and vehicles seemed in danger of falling into pieces if overused.

Lezan tucked the information away for later. Right now they would head towards the invasion, unless Terix had been lying about their first mission. He also noticed that the Dusk Lord had not yet asked a question primed earlier during Dyromedes' reprimand, but chose to voice his own for now. Should he receive punishment for interrupting, then the younger space marine would just have to bite the nail. Using the name given to him, Lezan spoke up for the first time since Lord Osterios demanded his identification, and for the first time since the group of new bloods had gotten together, initiated the conversation.

"Terix, would we need to deal with the Black Legion war band's leader along the way? I can't imagine he would be too pleased at his own troops defecting over to another's banner."

Of course, there were a number of unspoken questions to the one that Lezan posed, but depending on how and what their leader's answer was, he would find out what he needed to know soon enough. The rest they would just need to fill in themselves when the fighting began.

Dyromedes grunted as he was sent stumbling, he didn't step up again but just glared at the ignorant fool of a supposed leader. "The Agri-World. Food and people will be needed to take the Industrial World in a raid. It is clear we won't win a long siege if you rely on newbloods like ourselves. But if we can cause riots and distraction attacks with disposable slaves we formerly took prisoner, then we will have far less casualties in our actual raid for weapons, ammunition and vehicles - which should be a targeted strike, not a prolonged war."

The ranged specialist didn't appreciate the lack of shared knowledge or even make a decision based on missing information, something that might be required to sell out and buy into hastiness, if that was the style of this warband. If both worlds were in the same system for example, the clear choice would have been the industrial world as they would otherwise had been alarmed from the initial raid. Or what if one is known for common raids of pirates? They would have to calculate that threat in. Dyromedes shook his head within his mind.

"But I shall serve whereve you need my Bolter." He added, starting the self-indoctrination process of abandoning whatever doctrines he had learned, values he possessed, and trade them in to become an efficient machine of war, maybe those heroic deeds might give him the authority to question one day.

He followed all the while, like the rest of the squad.

Durek watched the treatment of Dyromedes questioningly. Surely a tactical strike needed to be calculated thoroughly in order to have the greatest amount of success? Despite this train of though, he stayed silent, not wishing to anger their leader any further than Dyromedes had.

He followed quietly behind the rest of the squad as they made their way to the transport. He was not quiet in nature, just merely studying the squad he was now with before engaging with them properly. Durek wanted to know their characteristics, how they acted. It was an interest to him.

Durek climbed into the transport, and began to look over the bolter he had received. He was excited to get to finally use it, and end the lives of those who stood in his way effectively. He looked up at the rest of the squad, giving a nod to the Son of Horus to show acknowledgemt for his attempt at planning earlier. He also looked around the rest of the squad, finishing his conclusions of them.

Shabran had kept quiet, and seemed to get away with it, atleast for now, it wasent that he dident have an opinion, he just wasent one much for theoreticals, practical was better, just rolling with it as it came for now. No reason to let wanton ambision hamstring one so early in the game, Shabran honestly did not have many aspirations for now, apart from Ofcause a drilled in want and lust to see the corpse Emperors domain wreithed in flames and igen defenders skulls piled to the skyes of its million worlds.
So for now Shabran just followed along, and if the warband was low on numbers and upstart it just ment there was less need to murder eachother for Good positions in the long haul.

It wasn't good. Nykton didn't expect the recruiter to be pleased with Dyromedes' answer, and sure enough he wasn't, though at least he pointed out its merits. But the Raven Guard winced internally as the Son of Horus was told to look to him as an example. Nykton wasn't comfortable with that, not at all. Bad enough that the Horusian was called out in front of his fellows, which would surely bruise anyone's pride, but to be named the one he should look up to wasn't something Nykton wanted. He endeavoured to keep his gaze straight ahead and not catch anyone's eye. This seemed to work, at least until they got to somewhere they could talk once more.

The destination proved to be a Thunderhawk. Nykton gazed at the hull, painted several colours - not a scheme he recognised, but then he was not too familiar with heraldry. And of course, the warband was new. He committed it easily to memory. The ship was well-used and, as Terix explained, short on maintenance. Nykton regretted his lack of training in that area for a moment. As a Marine often expected to work in small groups far away from backup and resupply, he had been given some useful knowledge, and he was handy with a wrench. But he doubted that he could maintain a gunship, much less anything larger. Looking up at the hull as they passed inside their vehicle, however, he experienced something else: the excitement of being about to fly.

Nykton had been told tales of his gene-Sire's flight on black wings - a flight pack, of course, he was not the Angel - but still, he understood that his Primarch loved to fly and so it was with him. No graceful pinions here, not even from the hands of the Cult Mechanicum, but still ... Nykton was keen to get off the ground. Perhaps he would be able to put some of his pilot training to use. Perhaps he would be upgraded with further implanted engrams to-

He forced himself to calm down. He found himself a place next to Lezan and Dyromedes, but it took him a couple of moments more to recompose himself. He looked to his two squadmates. Lezan, the stoic Lion's Son, standing straight and awaiting what should come next. And Dyromedes.

"You know," he said, quietly, so only Dyromedes and possibly Lezan could hear, "I don't think he was angry with you for not knowing how to answer, Cousin. I think he was angry because of how much you knew. It was an officer's answer."