The audaciousness would, in many, make the air sing with the sound of metal. Yet Sigvald felt in a particularly good mood and so all it prompted was amusement as Sigvald turned his attention from Nero and to the new human. He raised one hand in mock greeting "That would be me, and you are....?" Sigvald trailed off as his wide black eyes seemed to encompass all of Ardax's figure, drilling into him.

A pair of statues in either side of the room, apparently of strange multi-armed and multi-breasted figures with bull like heads and gemstone eyes seemed to move ever so slightly as the pirates hands came so near to his weapons.

Aradax, caught by surprise by how nonchalant the Traitor Marine acted, stared with awe for a moment. Coming back to his senses, Aradax laughed taking his hands away from his weapons and showing gratitude. "I was told anyone who was a Champion of Slaanesh to meet up at this location for a gathering and this certainly looks like one.". Ardax walked over to the seat near one of marine who had been tapping on the table. When sitting the table was at Aradax's upper chest.

One of his party members approached Sigvald and knelled down while raising a open box up over his head. It contained two Vials. They were both different colors and both had a name carved at the bottom.
"My gift to you, while Barrage and Psychon are probably common drug for a Warmaster such as yourself, they are rare with my Warband and to tell you the truth, too potent for most" hissed Aradax as he filled a chalice with purple liquid. I hope the gift pleases you and can be the first step in creating a "relationship" with are Warbands.

Another mortal has entered the room, bursting forth with as much bravado as so many of Nero's brothers. Clearly it was a show of strength, that this one was going to show himself off like some harlot wench. But instead of leg nor bust, offered up blades and pistols. If it were up to him, Nero would kill one of the new comer's fellows, allowing it one chance at redemption. But this is Sigvald's party. Nero simply turned around, leaned back and was going to enjoy the show, least he take the host's pleasure for his own.

His super human eyes noticed the minute twitch of the daemonic statues. If they are what they look like, Nero is far more impressed with Sigvald than before, very impressed indeed. The man has much more resources than to have been expected. As long as they aren't to be squandered shamefully on these lessers, Nero could get used to a situation like this.

A man in this position hasn't made it this far by being foolish, when in a cage with bears, one does not poke it with a stick.

((damnit, I was searching for the names of the killbeasts on Cretacia, but couldn't find any and Xaphen posts right before me.))

He paused, nodding slowly as he took the drug "They are common, but useful all the same...lacking some of the more extreme side effects, besides...it's the thought that counts eh? I don't expect anyone to come here with Barkweed from the Gates of the Moment, or piles of flects from the Mergent worlds, though one and all are in our holds."

For a moment Sigvalds face was serene "Whether you realize it or not, Fulgrim himself will be taking interest in our actions on Arkhona as well Abaddon or any other patron you care to name, and all the stops have been pulled. But...I digress, as I said the tribute is appreciated....eat your fill, you'll need it for the rough landing."

The two party members quickly went to the sides of their Warlord, backs turned to the table watching Aradax's flanks. Aradax heeded Sigvalds advice and began eating, but before doing so he put up his HotShot Las-pistol up on the table as an act of good faith. The weapon was painted in a dark purple and black combination with a silver chaos star of Slaanesh near the barrel of the weapon.

"I have heard rumors and assumptions, but I will take your word for it." Aradax said as he started collect various food that was on the table."I have several company of trained human Renegades at our disposal, and several, 'Heavier' vehicles". He turned his head to the other Marine looking up from his bladed head to his talons. "You are 'interesting' looking. You must be a great champion to Slaanesh, what is your name so I may remember it." his words came out somewhat choppy due to him chewing meat.

"And who is that?" pointing at the robed human, "he seems to...clean to be a slave" is he a Cultist commander or maybe another Renegade commander?"

OCC: Just realized never mentioned my name XD

"I have ears and mouth to listen and reply." He said, getting annoyed by the insult of every single Astartes that seems to see their warlord. "I am Vanilus, Master Sculptor." Holding it short, his stomach grumbling, complaining of not being fed for the last two days. "Though due to my obvious inferior metabolism, I fear I must remove myself in order to keep myself alive." He said almost with a clear tone of sarcasm.

The man wandered off for now, to let his master enjoy his gift and to finally please his basic needs. Inspiration for the next piece of perfection required he started to look around as he ate in the group of cultists.

He turned his head side to side, each time it made a very audible and very violent cracking sound. One of the blades nipped his shoulder armor, resulting in what could almost be considered a delicate sound. He grinned, pleased with the sounds that emanated from his body.
"Nero, the Flayed Angel. Chosen Champion of Vorpal Talons, emissary of the Children of Torment." He listed off his titles in a droll, almost bored tone. As if the man should have heard of him before, and it was almost insulting to have to announce who he is.

"Oh come now, Sculptor. Embrace your body's greed, if only you knew the envy I have for you mortals and you're need for consumption. To be able to starve yourself for greater and greater lengths of time just to taste anything for the first time in ages." He closed his eyes. "It must be an exhilarating sensation. We may feed and continue to do so, but our hunger never existed, we do so to debase our bodies in a way the Loyalist scum would think futile, but forever serves our lord. If only the Prince would bestow upon us the true need to eat." He thinks to himself about the thirst. About how he knows exactly what he speaks of.

Sigvald chuckled a little, looking between each of the three in turn "Trust me, there are no mere rumors concerning what is happening on Arkhona." his hand drifted to the planets model that Vanilus had gifted him, holding it up for both the pirate captain and Nero to see "What is actually there? We know not, but..." his finger pointed to the numerous fortress baked into it's surface "What we DO know is that it's an Imperial Fortress World and that these designs indicate a Great Crusade structure or older, furthermore that some violent psychic distress is echoing from the planet and has been for some time."

He set the model down once more "I have spent quite some time adding to that distress, amplifying and enhancing it so that any champion of Slaanesh can hear, it has it's costs...." casually Sigvald removed his right gauntlet, both Nero and Aradax would see that cuts had run all across his arms and hand....not ones made himself though, it was almost like small fissures had opened up in his skin "Handling that much psychic energy threatens to rip the body apart, but my ambitions for Arkhona are grand: The Children of Torment, Emperors Children, Roaring and Flickering Blades, Angels of Ecstasy, the legendary Twisted, Pleasure Seekers, numerous Flawless Hosts, and a thousand more names still I seek to draw here....I want to lead the cacophony of the apocalypse."

Name: Victus, Angel of Exess
Class: Chaos Sorcerer Lord
Rank: Leader of his own warband, but pledging himself and his flock to the Lash of Loesh

Standard Loadout:
*Power/Force Glaive, personally created
*Master-Crafted Las Sniper-Pistol
*Combat Drugs, created from Daemon Ichor, Wych Bile and Blood Angel Blood laced with Wraithbone Dust
*Dark Halo

Gifts:
*Allure and Gaze of Slaanesh
*Lash of Torment, made from demonic vines
*Needle of Desire/Venom Sting
*Hive of Flies

Unique Wargear Attributes:
*Victus' armor has been warped by chaotic energies, gaining an organic look, and provide his Combat Drugs. The Aquila on his chest remains largely intact but looks tattered and gutted, and between the unfolded wings and the two heads, two demonic eyes glow in a lime green color. The lower part of Victus' chestplate have been mutated into a vertical fanged maw, giving his chestplate of something living - with it very well might be.
*In between these fangs and Victus' ribs are bred various irrescendant demonic damselfly grubs and kaleidoscopic, glowing damselflies that defend Victus when he is threatened.
*His Needle of Desire and Venom sting stick out from miniature, multi-colored anemones on his ellbows.
*His Lash of Torment is made from Daemonic Vines hanging from the trees in the pleasure gardens surrounding Slaanesh' palace.

Physical Description:
Over time, Victus has become an almost perfect copy of Fulgrim on the outside, abet more angelic. His originally brown hair has turned long and silver, and his originally greyish-blue eyes have changed to lime green, then to lilac and then to the same black as his Primarch. The Mark of Slaanesh is formed from flesh-moss in the lower part of his backpack, as the upper part are filled with nacrotic vials. Two great angelic wings have grown from the vents of this backpack, every feather shimmering in a different color. This, together with his halo of darklight, gives him an appearance something akin to Sanguinius as well, a thing Victus does not speak but secretely takes glee in, as the Blood Angels rank amongst his most hated foes, alongside the followers of Khorne, the Blood God.

Notable Characteristics:
*Victus, while he might at first glance seem as arrongant as many other Slaaneshis, holds a soft spot for the lesser mortals, making no distinguishing from a lowly cultist to a veteran Chaos Space Marine. All are equal in the eyes of Slaanesh, and all will feel her light caress, one way or another. Being an accomplished Daemonmancer, he makes an expetion for Daemons, seeing them as an higher form of life that he must become as well.
*Victus is against slaughter he deems unnessecary, and prefers to convert the masses to the light of his mistress rather than killing them on a whim. He is notable to have extended the hand of friendship to followers of Nurgle and Tzeentch, and as such, his warband does not only host a large amount of Angels of Ecstasy and a core of Emperor's Children as well as flocks of drugged cultists and traitor guard, but also Betrayers of Pain and small numbers of Flylords, Purge, Apostles of Contagion, Oracles of Change and the Reborn. Together they are known as the Brotherhood of the Esctatic Angels, and Victus refers to them as his Flock of Esctasy, taking great pride in their archievements.
*Over time, Victus has become unable to feel any anger or rage, and would only feel a rare sadistic steak in its place. He, however, absolutely despises Khornates, seeing them as nuisances that the universe would better off without. The Blood Angels or their decendant Chapters also get his ire, as he believes them to be once chosen by Slaanesh by to their near-perfect appearance second only to that of the Emperor's Children, but feels they instead became corrupted by Khorne due to the Red Thirst and the Black Rage. As such, he has an adversion of blood, preferring to kill cleanly from afar, and being a Sorcerer and a former Recon Commander, does this with his Psysic Powers and Sniper Pistol.
*He has a notable preference for exess by silence, and when not in battle, often can be seen tending and perfecting the Daemonic Garden that has covered the insides of his Craftworld/Space Hulk-turned-Pleasure Palace. The fact Sigvald has a simmilar garden intrigues him greatly, and he would spend most of the time on Victus' ship wandering it, commenting on it and, of course, perfecting it, rather than enjoyin the feast with his brothers. That is not to say he will not use his psysic sorceries to listen what takes place, however...

He fed himself slowly and steady, as if measuring every single gram of food before it went down his throat, knowing exactly how much he needs to evade the growth of fat. Others were just gluttons regards food. But him? He needed to stay slim and fit... Well if one with visible ribs on his torso would consider fit. A soldier with two pleasure slaves walked by, moving into more private rooms, Vanilus only could shake his head.

Intercourse had no meaning to him, and was only a distraction. No woman would be as perfect as his sculptures, because he would take the base image from a woman to start with, and then refine it until it would meet the standards of beauty. Nothing flesh-made is perfect, it has flaws, because it was not hand-made by him.