Iapetus listened to Lucian, his fingers curling into massive, crushing fists. The way he spoke, with that flair of arrogance, angered the Shipwright. When the Dark Angel stepped forwards, chest-to-chest with the Olympian, Iapetus almost laughed. He, although unarmed, dwarfed the Angel - Terminator Armour afforded not only strength and shields, but also powerful, unrivaled strength. Iapetus was confident that even if Lucian drew his twin-blades, he would twist the little Angel's head off.
When Pelegon spoke, on the other hand, Iapetus felt only irritation. By right, this task should have fallen to him - He lorded over the Grand Company's fleet, he had proven himself time and time again, and he would not, could not, serve under the Dark Angel. He was a serpent, striking from the shadows, a coward. His lip curled, his temple throbbed, as Coeus drew nearer. Iapetus and Coeus shared a bond, a split-consciousness of sorts, a faster, more reliable method of communication than the vox-system afforded.
The Warsmith and the Seer left, the doors sliding shut behind them, and left Lugerev, Iapetus and Lucian alone.
It was the Apothecary, half-mad, half-lucid, who spoke first.
Lugerev and Iapetus were long-time comrades. When Iapetus had first met him, Lugerev had been smeared in gore and ash, having fought, killed and healed on the fields of Terra. Iapetus had stood tall, his armour largely unmarked, and clasped hands with the Apothecary. Since then, there had been a bond - Though, one that was often strained, - And remained friends. Their shared lineage, that of lofty Olympia, bonded them together.
'We are Iron Warriors,' Iapetus drawled, when Lugerev was done. 'We always have been, and we always will be, brother,' He stepped closer to Lucian, looking down at the Dark Angel. 'Our Warsmith has seen fit, Lugerev, to allow the introduction of oathbreakers and castaways into our ranks. Captain Kalistarion, the Exiled Knight of Caliban, has ruined the Third Company. Alpha Legionaries, Dark Angels, more - All corrupt it.'
He bared his teeth, addressing Lucian, now.
'I am Kheledakos, worm,' He growled. 'Brethren of Cold. Whilst you slink and slide in the shadows, like some gutter-vermin, I rule the stars. If you are wise, Lucian, you will trust to me. This ship will not be taken by deception.'
Nyctophobia- Fear of the Dark Angel.
"No one ever spoke about of those two absent brothers. Their separate tragedies had seemed like aberrations. Had they, in fact, been warnings that no one had heeded?"
'Killing a man is like fucking, boy, only instead of giving life you take it. You experience the ecstasy of penetration as your warhead enters the enemy's belly and the shaft follows. You see the whites of his eyes roll inside the sockets of his helmet. You feel his knees give way beneath him and the weight of his faltering flesh draw down the point of your spear. Are you picturing this?'
'Is your dick hard yet?'
''What? You've got your spear in a man's guts and your dog isn't stiff? What are you, a woman?'