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post #51 of 105 (permalink) Old 10-07-14, 06:09 PM
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Lucian sat upon his command throne aboard the 'Shade Wraith', an Astartes Strike cruiser taken from the Raven Guard, the Nineteenth Legion, in the latter days of the so called 'Scouring'. After the destruction of his own ship Lucian had taken control of the 'Shade Wraith' because of how the Raven Guard's ships were equipped with stealth technology that has now long since vanished from the Imperium. To either side of the Third Captain stood Brother-Librarians Rasiel and Zarthel, two members of the First Legion who had stood with him since himself and the twenty-nine others were deposited on the same world together after the fall of Caliban.

The two cousins were always at Lucian's side when he was not called upon to meet the other captains without the others, as between the two cousins they were able to keep the prying minds of none-Fallen psykers out of his own and his squads minds as the best plans of stealth and sabotage were often conducted when not even their allies knew what were going on. While Pelegon had drummed into him that he was now part of the XIX Grand Company, he still kept those with Dark Angel Gene-Seed closest to him as their bonds of brother-hood were forged stronger then that as the rest of the company.

The Third Company itself was made up of squads from different legions, all who were suited to stealth, recon and sabotage missions. Astartes from the Night Lords, Alpha Legion, Raven Guard were often seen under his command while those Iron Warriors who preferred the subtle approach to warfare also had their place within the Third. Drumming his fingers lightly on the side of his command throne he looked around the near-silent command bridge where only the hum of machinery was heard and the light mutterings of the crew as they relayed information to their superiors which was then given to Lucian.

Lucian transferred his gaze from the bridge of his ship to the trading frigate 'Flying Maiden' that was filled with hidden explosives ready for luring the wolves aboard before detonating them or using the ship itself in a later ramming action to take out any orbital defences. If the worst came to the worst Lucian would simply have the frigate aimed at a city on the planet and fly it straight into the planet itself, which while it wasn't his preferred way of dealing with things he was sure Pelegon and the Iron Warriors would enjoy the untold destruction of such a thing.

After a few more moments Lucian nodded his head to his communications officer as he stands up and crossed his hands behind his back under his cloak as he watches the holo-form of the Seventh Captain appearing infront of him. "Iron Within, Brother-Captain Iapetus. All is in readiness for the up-coming combat and boarding action, as the 'Ship-Wright' I will leave the initial stages to you before seeing where best my Company is deployed, though I can assure you that myself and the Third will take the bridge of the 'Fist of Russ' before yourself and the Seventh. I'd even be willing to make a wager on it if it suits you, Captain." Lucian grins under his helmet before quickly returning his facial features to his neutral aloofness that they are usually etched into.

"Has there been any word from the Warsmith on our preys location?"

Already, you exalt me for my triumphs, When I ask only that you remember me for my treacheries

Victory is nothing more than survival.
It carries no weight of honour or worth beyond what we ascribe to it.
If you wish to grow wise, learn why brothers betray brothers. - Khyron, First Grand Master of the Eighth Brotherhood.
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post #52 of 105 (permalink) Old 10-07-14, 06:44 PM
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The Ork Noble, in its heavy, thick suit of armor painted with yellow moons and sickened suns, had Lugerev raised up by an unwieldy power claw. The metal talons bit deep into the sides of his power armor, cutting his flesh beneath and causing him to bleed. He was pinned against a boulder as the Greenskin roared its victory, savoring the moment just a little while longer. Its face was filled with an odd mixture of anger and exhilaration behind the false lower jaw made of metal. A ridiculously large gun barrel was suddenly pointed into the Marine’s face.

Lugerev hastily called for reinforcements over the vox channel he had been on.

Something, he wasn’t sure what, smashed into the beast half a second later, sending its enormous frame flying, broken and bloody. The Primus Medicae dropped to the ground with a thud, but quickly got back to his feet. He could hear Kunzhardt’s tanks in the background, firing their salvos and rumbling forward. Perhaps it was one of them, that had saved him. It seemed that for all intents and purposes, the battle here was won. The Orks had been routed and the Iron Warriors were moving in, doing what they did best, fortifying.

Nature. There was still some here. The Grand Company clearly hadn’t been here long, yet. A couple of hours, perhaps.

Lugerev moved to the other side of the massive boulder, and began walking along a shallow trench which soon turned into a small vein of water. He was likely needed to tend the wounded...but his apothecaries would do their jobs. As he began to shake off the near-death experience he looked upward. He slowly removed his helm, and held it in the crux of his arm.

Bright, slow paced explosions of huge proportions were scattered throughout the twilight sky, varying in size. Iapetus was making quick work of the rubbish Ork fleet.

He left caked foot prints in the soft, damp dirt behind him. The tributary became a brook, a creek. The planet’s sunlight glistened off of the soft ripples made from the thunderous vibrations of the Mechanized Fist up ahead, and the Titan Breaker’s forces following suit behind him. Some short trees and shrubs held onto their leaves, blowing with the winds of war. The kind of war Astartes made. Their fluttering shadows further played with the light dancing over the water.

He was looking calmly at one of these shadows as he walked, which soon became that of his younger brother’s. The familiar whir of mechanics, and coiling of mechadendrites came with it.

‘Hello, Adriun.’ Said Lugerev, still looking at the flowing water as his brother caught up to him. his greeting was warm, but saddened. After a moment, he fixed his stare on Adriun’s faceplate.

"Medicae, is there something you wish to say to me? Your eyes speak for you."

‘There is.’ Lugerev turned his head. They both looked forward now, the sunlight reflecting brightly off the immaculate edging of their Iron Armor.

‘I wanted to talk to you about one of your techmarines, your Master Genetor, Loakk. I know more about handling geneseed than anyone else in this Grand Company, Adriun.’

The massive Master of the Forge left much deeper footprints in the soil than the Primus Medicae.

‘If he wishes to handle this precious material, I would very much like to assist him. I have no interest in using foul Wolf genes for myself, so it matters little to me that he tinkers with such a degraded specimen type. Even so, I think we could help each other improve, and a techmarine knowledgeable in that field frees up some of my spare apothecaries for use in the other Companies.’

As he finished this sentence, Lugerev watched as fifteen dark, ominous figures moved up along the river’s edge in a hurry. They surrounded he and Adriun, all facing forward still, and then slowed down. Some fell into step behind them, some to the side, and some rushed forward to walk in front. Five of them were significantly larger than the other ten.

‘I don’t know how much blood still courses through your twisted body, but whatever is left of it, is Olympian blood. And I know you are cleaved between the Cult Mechanicus and the IV Legion, but you are still a truer brother than most in these odd times of post-rebellion guerilla warfare.’

He stopped dead, and turned sharply to face Adriun. Storm Eagles and Thunderhawks screamed overhead.

‘I took you out of that shuttle, that escape pod. I gave you your new life. I tended to your wounds as a neophyte, and as a full battle brother. I watched you wander into the red hands of Mars and become what you are today, letting your new practices take care of your wounds instead, and I have done so ever since. Now, I have wounds that I need your help in tending. There are wounds in this Grand Company that need your help in tending.’

Lugerev didn’t break his stare from Adriun’s faceplate. As they stood in the undecorated hallway of the Ferra Perpetua, surrounded by terminators and a breacher squad marked for the 7th, he waited for a response.

You can never be prepared for the unexpected


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post #53 of 105 (permalink) Old 10-07-14, 07:19 PM
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Adriun wondered where Lugerev was at the moment, he always had to be cautious, as even though this man had guaranteed him new life as an Astartes, it was sad to see his decline in mental faculties.

‘There is.’ Lugerev turned his head. They both stood in the dull light of the Ferra Perpetua's halls, the cold iron resonating the sound of distant work and treading Astartes.

‘I wanted to talk to you about one of your techmarines, your Master Genetor, Loakk. I know more about handling geneseed than anyone else in this Grand Company, Adriun.’

He saw the eye's of the Medicae wander to his feet, where Adriun had been defensive before he was saddened slightly, he almost felt this purist attitude was more of a manipulation of the Medicae's mind by the far more lucid Twins, the Ship Wright and the Seer. He listened intently to the Medicae, as his speech began to reach the present, and not the past.

‘If he wishes to handle this precious material, I would very much like to assist him. I have no interest in using foul Wolf genes for myself, so it matters little to me that he tinkers with such a degraded specimen type. Even so, I think we could help each other improve, and a techmarine knowledgeable in that field frees up some of my spare apothecaries for use in the other Companies.’

Adriun nodded at the arrival of the Seventh's Marines, who had been aboard watching over Lugerev, most likely to ensure something like the previous conflict would not happen.

‘I don’t know how much blood still courses through your twisted body, but whatever is left of it, is Olympian blood. And I know you are cleaved between the Cult Mechanicus and the IV Legion, but you are still a truer brother than most in these odd times of post-rebellion guerilla warfare.’

The sudden look in his eyes spoke of battles old and he sensed some urgency in the Medicae's voice.

‘I took you out of that shuttle, that escape pod. I gave you your new life. I tended to your wounds as a neophyte, and as a full battle brother. I watched you wander into the red hands of Mars and become what you are today, letting your new practices take care of your wounds instead, and I have done so ever since. Now, I have wounds that I need your help in tending. There are wounds in this Grand Company that need your help in tending.’


Adriun removed his helmet to look at the Medicae.

"Lugerev, I am always grateful for the life you ensured I got, and I appreciate your choice in bringing more closer in ties with this company in your selection of gene-seed for me." He said as he contemplated his words.

"I am sure Loakk will appreciate assistance in this Endeavor, It should surprise him that he will be receiving this cooperation, he will appreciate that the Primus Medicae endorses his genetic research. And as for my blood, You know that it beats as Olympian now, or as close as it could be. I enjoy the assistance of the Machine in me, but I do not wish to replace all that I am with it, like my more extreme Brothers." He smiled, it was funny to hear the concern of something so trivial, but endearing. He only hoped the Medicae maintained this lucidity for the time being.

"What wounds do you speak of Brother Lugerev," He said finally addressing the Medicae's final thoughts,"I would most assuredly help in closing wounds of the Grand Company, if it ensures the Company's Survival."

He looked about at the assembled Marine's, "Lugerev is safe now, I do not think your presence in such number is required, Such idleness is not to be found on the Ferra Perpetua." He said addressing them. He did not wish this heavy presence of the Seventh to cause something if Members of the First happened to be near, let alone those of the Second.

"Shall we return to your Apothecary, Lugerev? We can continue our discussion there."

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post #54 of 105 (permalink) Old 10-08-14, 05:06 AM
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The show of power was over. The adjutant was heavily beaten but the astounding level of resilience of Astartes physiology would ensure his return to health possibly in time for the coming battle if not for the ensuing campaign and whatever else would come. Damn his eyes for being so blind to it before. He'd always suspected the Twins of nefarious plans especially the Sorcerer and his twisted soul but the apothecary among them!? The trinity of purists would seek to bring ruin to him. Were there any in the grand company he could trust? Were his men even poisoned by their own hands or was it some machination of the tainted Librarium to plant needed evidence to remove a black mark? Who could he trust? Were there any here that might fight by his side in whatever coming schism there would be? He could only think of possibly two other souls that might be capable and further still possibly willing but how could he seek their help? He was the Immovable, Master of the Mechanized Fist and bringer of ruin to countless civilizations and he would have to crawl to these whelps and beg their assistance!? The bat would surely revel in the deliciousness of that fact. The only saving grace being the professionalism with which the two dealt, he would be a target as much as Kunzhardt but how could they meet? No doubt the witch and whatever souls he'd slaved would be scouring the halls looking for the opportunity to find the Captain separated from his warriors.

The only real hope would be to use the Tyranthikos to his advantage for his short command of them. The three that were in the room with him, a Dayus, Draxus, and Karius. . . They would be poor choices for whatever respect he could have possibly held for them. Then there was Kerberus the chosen Champion of the 1st Company; too public a figure to be able to confer a message in discretion. The very notion of it sickened him, the blunt weapon and destroyer of all reduced to transferring messages like a school boy passing things back and forth. Draxus would have been the wise choice. He recalled that he was the spy that recovered the necessary information of Rorke's fall however he was in the room earlier. Perhaps. . . Yes. . . Yes a peace offering."

"Vhalos!"

The bruised adjutant came forth to the private quarters of the Immovable. One part of him held a degree of trepidation over the potential of another beating the other was an Iron clad will that would refuse to yield any weakness and so with that he steeled himself and marched forth into the room only to find a soul stepping back and forth trudging the same patrol brooding a seemingly infinite number of possible events and situations. The room was stark with a very simple bed, a desk with numerous data slates and a lumoglobe. Kunzhardt turned to regard the adjutant and barked as though the previous beating had never occurred.

"Summon the Tyranthikos! I wish an audience with them all. . . Now!"

No words, the wounded adjutant bolted from the room eager to redeem his honor leaving the paranoid Captain to swim in his own thoughts. What would be the words? Who would be contacted first?

"Adrius! REPORT!"

During the down time he summoned one of his more junior tank commanders, easily thrice more skilled and experienced than most veteran tank commanders within the Imperium's finest regiments. A moment later a stark undecorated legionnaire was standing at attention within his quarters. He'd only taken a small token of personal décor and was otherwise baron of regalia. A simple addition of a horned helm matching his to a degree.

"Adrius you are to take this to the Forge Lord Adruin. His. Hands. Only. Give him my thanks for the swift delivery of our Fell Glaives and tell him this is the next order to be filled."

He handed the tank commander a data slate who would not question it at all. He was ambitious but still green enough to blindly follow his commanders orders to a T and took the encrypted data slate and fled from the room. Shortly after the meeting Vhalos returned and reported the assembly of the Tyranthikos. The display would be necessary.

He marched forth to find a mountain of ceramite before him perfectly still and possibly invisible to a naked eye to the equally stark background. The second had returned to drills albeit a strictly physical routine involving hand to hand combat and wrestling in full garb. He felt a fantastic level of power at this, one that a Warsmith must feel whenever a campaign begins. The adrenal rush tingling in the fingers as a procession that could only be described as clockwork and an impeccable orchestra chimed forth bringing oblivion to all before his sight.

Warsmith Kunzhardt

The thoughts echoed in his mind and they weren't even his, countless souls playing at his mind seeking to move the immovable, what great joy would be had in watching the immovable fall. To sell his soul to garner some fragmented power at the cost of servitude. He refused to entertain the idea any further and carried out his limited speech.

"You! Mighty scalpels of the XIXth! Unparalleled masters of direct combat! By the Warsmith's hand I have been honored to send you into the breach! Finally the strategy of the Hammer and Scalpel can be realized, the mighty firepower of the second in tandem with the surgical precision of the Tyranthikos! Know that I command you for our campaign on Pelexis! Now Prepare for the coming battle! Dismissed!"

He'd watched the group and none stirred but he found his intended target and sent a private vox to the intended recipient.

"What would you have of me, Captain?"

"Draxus. . . I wish an audience with your Bat Lord. You are his master spy and I entrust you to use this opportunity to earn his faith again. Bring him here at once and earn my favor."

The Tyranthikos looked at him almost quizzically but seemingly saw opportunity in the matter and left the room immediately. Hopefully the Bat would see the value in the offering and come presently. He would likely understand the situation and the threat presented to them all. There would be no reason for an insignificant threat to land on the radar of the Seer or Lugarev. He was stripped of his Tyranthikos and a non-player in whatever deadly game was being played.

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post #55 of 105 (permalink) Old 10-08-14, 06:34 AM
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With his command of the Tyranthikos temporarily revoked Tyranus remained aboard the Ferra Perpetua, feeling equal parts captive and still he steeled his mind for war, short as this campaign would be it would be unwise to let his guard down. Especially now that he saw the fools of the 7th had been active in the quiet time between their last campaign. They had certainly looked to collect as much strength as possible, but to what purpose, they hadn't just yet revealed their hand.

Still, Tyranus was ever vigilant, he suspected if they came for him it would likely be in the manner of cowards. They would not dare confront him head on, to do so would result in their absolute ruin. But when the thudding knock came on his chamber door his glaive leapt into his right hand, his HUD lit up, seeking targets for his shoulder mounted storm bolter. If anything came through that door seeking an easy kill they would be in for a rude awakening. The confines were made to seem small by the bulk of the cataphractii plated Tyranus, but he was accustomed to murder in such confined spaces, he was afterall a Night Lord in a previous life.

"My Lord, I come bearing a message from Captain Kunzhardt," the familiar voice of Draxus came through and he allowed the door to open, he towered over Draxus who wore only his power armor. A flicker of his sadistic and cruel nature glinted across his face as he flashed a predator's grin beneath his helm. "What message has your new Captain for me," there was a hostile inference about Draxus' loyalties and the young equerry quickly tried to offer an explanation, "My Lo-," but he was summarily cut off by the wave of a hand from Tyranus. "Dispel with the pleasantries Draxus, what does the Foolish Fist want?" Draxus was unsure of exactly what the 2nd Captain wanted, he knew only that the Mechanized Fist wished to speak with Tyranus, and with great haste.

"He sees the blade that looms over his head and now he wishes aid in lifting it?" Tyranus mused to himself, Draxus nodded in agreement. "Captain Kunzhardt sought an audience with you immediately."

Tyranus with Draxus in tow made his way to the hangar that held the 2nd and large number of the Tyranthikos. He sought out the 2nd Captain, he dispensed with the formalities in lieu of a normal greeting "What would speak to me about 2nd Captain?" There was a healthy tone of impatience in his voice, like a hungry alpha predator that had been starved and cornered and ready to kill anything in its way.
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post #56 of 105 (permalink) Old 10-09-14, 02:44 AM
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The preparations completed Kunzhardt maintained his pacing. He thought back to his first memories of the Horus Heresy and the titanic change in his life that had taken place at the time to go from a common peasant who's existence had all but been forgotten to the war machine that existed now. He'd become a soldier at the dawn of rebellion and had known only the malice that oozed from the other 4th Legionnaires towards their loyalist brethren. Worshippers of a man that would be a God that he knew nothing about only to fight and kill those that would uphold the name of the Emperor. Such a green horn he was then.

The Night Lord arrived much sooner than he had anticipated but not for the worse. He would have to perform his end of the dance too to ensure whatever looming eyes would be none the wiser. He was no-where near as experienced in the matter and likely it looked fool hardy and over the top.

"Yes! Tyranus, Captain of the First! I am glad your messenger was swift. I wish to speak with you about our coming battle and how to best use the Tyranthikos! Come to my chamber."

It grinded with anger but it was easily two octaves higher than normal as he wished for his voice to carry. He turned and walked purposefully at the side of the Night Lord gesturing him into his stark quarters. He had little to go off save for the mutual threat that would likely surround the Night Lord and his stomach churned at the thought of what he was doing but Pelegon saw fit to bring the Nostraman into the fold he would have to extend the same courtesy now.

Tyranus watched the Captain pace briefly as if physically chewing his words to decide what he would say.


"Tyranus. There will be no pleasantries. I assume you're aware of my situation. There are conspirators that I can only presume seek to purify the company of non Olympians. I'm likely the first target for my superiority in firepower but rest assured Night lord that their gaze will fall to the hammer of the 1st and to any not born of that barren rock or that carry Perturabo's seed. There is a mutual disgust here I won't pretend otherwise but there is an enemy to us both. I seek to preserve our place in the company- to bring forth obliteration and to snuff this spark before the fires of purgation consumes the XIXth. You offered the services of the Tyranthikos before, I did not expect events to unfold the way they did. I would be in debt to you for this agreement and my word is Iron."

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"Tyranus. There will be no pleasantries. I assume you're aware of my situation. There are conspirators that I can only presume seek to purify the company of non Olympians. I'm likely the first target for my superiority in firepower but rest assured Night lord that their gaze will fall to the hammer of the 1st and to any not born of that barren rock or that carry Perturabo's seed. There is a mutual disgust here I won't pretend otherwise but there is an enemy to us both. I seek to preserve our place in the company- to bring forth obliteration and to snuff this spark before the fires of purgation consumes the XIXth. You offered the services of the Tyranthikos before, I did not expect events to unfold the way they did. I would be in debt to you for this agreement and my word is Iron." Kunzhardt spoke in hushed tones, even within his own chambers and it made Tyranus laugh inwardly.

"Will you be targeted first because of your superior firepower and siege capabilities or because of your inferior judgement with Lugerev?" Tyranus smirked, removing his helm, he wanted to look Kunzhardt in the eyes as they spoke on this subject. "If you wanted to take action you might as well have simply done so, because now you have nothing to show for it but a target on your head Captain Kunzhardt." He relished the fact that he was far more adept at deception and underhanded schemes than his compatriot. He was also rather enjoying watching Kunzhardt's face twist in anger and consternation at his remarks, the 2nd Captain likely wished he had left his helm on because his anger was blatently obious. Tyranus continued, he was arrogant, but his assessment was correct, even if he neglected to speak of the collateral damage that could be coming down. "If The First has to protect itself from The Twins and their band of star bound wretches we will do so without problem." His eyes scanned Kunzhardt, prying for weaknesses, he was not afraid, but he did not want to lose what bits of power he held within the XIXth, this was something Tyranus could relate to, and more importantly exploit.

"The only place that The Twins could possibly enact anything against you would be while we are deployed and shipbound, but again, you are stationed aboard the Ferra Perpetua, the flagship of our entire Grand Company, do you really believe they would be so bold as to breach this ship? Iapetus and Coeus are certainly arrogant and foolish pricks, but they would not be so suicidal. Such action would be seen as a strike against the WarSmith himself, which would alienate those who do not already blindly follow their doctrine."

"I have but asked questions and have no answers as to why I have been summoned here Captain Kunzhardt." He knew full well why his presence had been requested, but he wanted to force The Mechanized Fist to speak his request plainly, in no small part to see the look on his face as he sought the aid of man he typically called "Bastard Tyrant", "The Bat" or simply "The NightLord." Tyanus would savor this proverbial twisting of the blade, nearly as much as he enjoyed the literal application of the gruesome technique.
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Words twisted seemingly in the air before him like a magician turning flowers into birds. Instincts begged for blood, he was being openly insulted in his own domain. . . No. . . In his very chamber! He wished desperately to lash out with all the fury he could muster and to send a crackling body flying across the room but that would have defeated the entire purpose of this meeting. There was a specific reason he'd asked for Tyranus to come here and it wasn't for his combat expertise. All he could do now would be to suppress the indignation and endure the verbal assault and let the Bat vent his fill like a boxer on a heavy bag.

And the final pin dropped. The question that he didn't want asked. He'd hoped foolishly that Tyranus wouldn't ask the question. To force him to peel off his armor and be exposed. Voices rattled through his head. "Kill him" "Kill him!" "Rend him apart!" "paint the walls with his blood!" "BLOOD!" "BLOOD!" "BLOOD!" "Claim the Bat's Skull!" "Take your throne!" "We'll give you untold power!"

Countless offers, taunts, temptations. . .

No. . .

Part of him entertained the constant assault that the psykers would likely endure attempting their witch craft while attempting to have a pure being. Perhaps that was exactly the case, perhaps they were the tainted. He would love to strap the twins to a wall naked and scrutinize their being with all the gentle care of a Warhound Titan.

Still the question was proposed and thus he would be forced to answer.


"And you will be a target as well. I live in the flagship yes, while you are isolated and easily a more exploitable target. Pelegon has withdrawn from the Company lost in his own pursuits leaving us great independence. His interest falls more and more on archeotech leaving you exposed."
He paused now coming to the hard part, the proverbial drum roll seemed to leave Tyranus almost salivating at what was about to be said.

"Tyranus, I am asking. . . For your expertise, your cooperation and. . Your assistance in securing our Grand Company."

His eyes never wavered, his voice remained resolute but those that had lived among him for centuries would easily see the strain with which the final sentence was spoken.

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He could see the look in Kunzhardt's eyes, the man wanted to lash out at him, kill him in that very moment out of rage and anger for such slights. Tyranus had to commend Captain Kunzhardt though, he managed to hold his notoriously foul temper and continue with his appeal to him. "You will be a target as well. I live in the flagship yes, while you are isolated and easily a more exploitable target. Pelegon has withdrawn from the Company lost in his own pursuits leaving us great independence. His interest falls more and more on archeotech leaving you exposed."

The mention of Pelegon's withdrawal in recent centuries, had it been millenia? He could no longer tell with the warped passage of time so close to the Eye of Terror, not that it mattered. Tyranus remembered back to their time serving together in the VIIIth Legion, having shown Pelegon how to fight in the ways of the Night Lords, showing him the better parts of ambition. The end of their rebellion saw the fracturing of the traitor Legions on varying levels, his own Legion having dismembered itself into countless warbands in the aftermath of the death of their Primarch. He went with Pelegon to the XIXth Grand Company then under the command of the WarSmith Endymion. Tyranus had shown him what it meant to be ambitious, without him there would not be a WarSmith Pelegon. He wondered what of Pelegon remained, the man had changed, distracted by archeotech and in recent memory their war campaign had slowed to a crawl, this operation against Pelexis III was the first mustering of the entire Grand Company in quite some time.

Kunzhardt had struck something of a nerve and now it was he who wished perhaps that he had retained his helm, nevertheless his response was in measured tones, "It is true the WarSmith seems to be fixated on other things, he has perhaps given too much faith in our abilities to conduct ourselves, or perhaps he simply cares not if the Companies tear each other apart." He seemed distant for a moment, his mind cast off as he envisioned the savage blood letting that would take place if the Companies were to truly act of the course they seemed set on.

"Tyranus, I am asking. . . For your expertise, your cooperation and. . Your assistance in securing our Grand Company." Kunzhardt's eyes never wavered, his voice remained resolute but Tyranus could see the strain, like his body rejected the sentiment of his statement.

"We are divided, each company is its own and hatred boils over between us all, I am accustomed to fighting in this manner, but the Grand Company as a whole cannot sustain this." For once it seemed as if his thoughts were not solely on personal glory, but a flash in his eyes revealed that there was some part of him that enjoyed these games, thrived on the prospect of killing his brothers. "As ever we shall be the Hammer and the Anvil Brother Kunzhardt, The First and Second Companies shall stand together." He grinned, a most perfect thought coming to his mind, "Captain Kunzhardt, you have the Tyranthikos assembled, do you not? There is something I wish to address with my Company."
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Lugerev raised a steady hand and nodded his head in agreement, addressing the Honor Guard.

'Stay nearby, but down the adjacent corridor or round the nearest corner, perhaps.'

He then turned to the waiting Adriun, shaking his head slowly.

'I apologize, but I must cut our talk short for the time being. I will speak with you about the wounds soon enough, perhaps when I feel that I have come to a better understanding of them myself.'

He paused for a moment in thought.

'For now, if you could just speak to Loakk for me. I would very much like for him to assist me in my part of the mission. I am to board the Wolves' Strike Cruiser that is anchored above Pelexis, according to Pelegon, and retrieve a stock of Salamander gene seed that he believes to be there. I am sure there will be several Space Wolves aboard for him to take "samples" from. In fact, I'll make sure of it. Hell, with our First and Second Captains' legacies, there likely won't be anything left on the ground to take back for research, regardless of Pelegon's orders.'

'Let me know his, or your, decision. Thank you Adriun.'

With that, Lugerev turned and began his walk back to the Apothecarion, his Honor Guard subtly in tow.

You can never be prepared for the unexpected


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