“Corvis has made another enemy and Zhasal wants more people to hunt, the disgusting animal. But enough of the troubles of the rest of the First Claw. How are you Xandrek?” Azreal says. Heh so Corvis wants even more enemies now does he? How many does he have exactly at this point? Over fifty or was it seventy? Zhasal is a fool. How did he even advance into the First Claw at all? Raskreia thought to himself before Xandrek turns to face him and Azreal his hands still clasped behind his back. Breaking into a wry smile at the sight of Xandrek in full battle-plate crossed with lightning, rusted chains hanging from his waist and bat-wing crested helm with blood-coloured lenses staring at us before saying in his upper-hiver accent growl, “Azrael, Raskreia. It is good to see you my ‘brothers’”. Smirking slightly at the malice and hatred inherent in the word that none, either within or without, the Legion can match though none directed at Azreal or I. I am the same as I always am, Champion. If there was something wrong with me I'm sure the Corpse-Master would have notified you." the sheer power of his voice stopping several of the bridge's mortals in their tracks.
Unclasping his hands Xandrek marched towards his throne before settling himself into it as Azreal and I ascended it as well coming to a before it with Azreal on the right and myself on his left as he says “As for the psyker making his way here…that is unfortunate. Azreal if the witch-kin comes within twenty paces of me but a bolt through his helmet and should he speak without me giving him permission, Raskreia. Feel free to remove his tongue using a rusty blade.” growling laughter brought to an inhuman distortion from the vox before me and Azreal joined in. "Well what if merely stands insolently? Remove his left or right leg Captain? Though it is good to see you laugh again as you have been gloomy lately, almost as if you were part of the Raven Guard My Lord." Raskreia says as Xandrek reaches up to his helmet undoing the seals and removing it exposing his paper white aristocratic skin and all black eyes with his shoulder length black hair. "Now my brothers, let us see what news the psyker has for us.” as he motioned for the doors to be opened and Jallus enters with Jaekel. Oh! This is certainly going to be one interesting informal conference with the both of them here now. Raskreia thinks to himself almost hoping Jallus would say anything or step within twenty paces where Jaekel himself approaches as the witch-kin both bow and immediately adopt a waiting atmosphere.
Watching the Jallus intently Raskreia hears the doors open again this time permitting Veptus to enter. Taking his eyes away from Jallus Raskreia simpy looks at him to ease his eyes and for something new to stare at as Veptus says, “My liege.” practically purring the words as he bowed with full ceremony but without a hint of irony. He turned to regard the others. “Champion Azrael.” He said inclining his head. “Bearer Raskreia.” As he offers a of respect. Inclining his head in the same manner Raskreia says "Corpse-Master a definite meeting." “You will be pleased to hear…” Veptus continued talking to Xandrek. “…I have begun with Shen’s ‘interment’.” Veptus chuckled cruelly and mirthlessly, most likely remembering what he put the fool Shen through. “I’m sure…” Though whatever he had wanted to say was interrupted by the hulking mass of machinery that was Var plowed through the conversation like a World Eater hacking into an enemy. "I hope you remember my requests Captain. Every weapon, every piece of armour, every tank, must all be collected and utilized. I expect aid from the main body of the Night Lords so that the process is quick and efficient. We do not know how long this war will be, and we need every piece of equipment we can."
Eyes widening at the sheer audacity of the marine Raskreia asks Xandrek quietly, "I know he is important for now but may I take his tongue and vocal cords with a rusty, and hopefully poisoned, blade Lord?" “As I was saying, I’m sure you’ll be pleased with his suffering. He begged for death in the end, and I will make him beg again before his final interment.” Raskreia focuses back on those gathered in front of the throne as the Corpse-Master turns to Var, “Now you can speak. A little courtesy goes a long way you know.” "Well said there Corpse-Master. Though maybe if he didn't spend so long down in the bowels of the ship with his fetishes maybe he would know some proper Nostramon courtesy." Raskreia says before fastening his helmet to his waist and dropping his hand surreptitiously to his axe.
"Loyalty is its own reward."