Black Crusade: Inside the Silent Mountain

.....Sometime later, in the Keep of Skarsguard....

"... Rest now, and we will let you out to feed again. But no Screaming! We saves that for the cities we don't wish to subjugate! Good Hank, Obey." Nate gently stroked the hull of the monstrous vehicle, which shivered in response to his touch. He knew it was not pleasure, but seething that caused the reaction. None the less, he would show no fear to the Daemon Engine. It would learn in time to behave, or it would be.. Banished.

Nate walked away from Hank, who was left idle for now to heal the damage he had done to it by his own hand.

He wandered for a while, finding the staccato rattle of automatic weapons fire to be somehow soothing, and felt the remnants of stress from the recent fight ebb away.

Eventually, he found who he was looking for. "Sattar!" he called, by way of introduction. He still hadn't figured this whole, etiquette thing Fariad had tried to explain, but gave a slight bow as the approached the black clad space marine, and hoped it would suffice.

"Those creatures, you know what they is, don't you? Ohh yes, we knows them as deamons of the bloody god, but there was more too it, yes? Tells us!- Please... We had fought many of the Blood God's spawn on this world, with Skarsguard soon to be controlled, perhaps less... but perhaps not. Tells us?"

The interior of the fortress was jam packed with vehicles of all types as all of the warriors had abandoned their metal steeds to take to the ramparts. A wide gap separated the ordinary vehicles from that of the whispering tank in the corner that Sattar eyed warily. He spotted the feathered boy mutant gesticulating wildly at the machine before he gently stroked the metal hull. Sattar glanced around at everyone else in the courtyard but no one seemed to treat this as too unusual. It had been a while since I had dwelt alongside such insanity.

Darius was laid down beside one of the Rhinos while Fariad and the scaly winged girl proceeded to stitch back the monstrous wounds that he had suffered. Sattar turned away as he guiltily contemplated his own poor performance of just a few minutes prior. His blood curdled and boiled at the thought of the daemons that he had witnessed and the sheer malevolent energies of the Warp that had flowed from the keep. Even now, the throne exuded foul energy that was anathema to his psychic senses. The fact that the winged boy had overcome them was proof that his power was great, moreso than his own for certain.

The cascade of blood from the throne had ceased a while ago, however it still caused painful memories to blossom in Sattar's mind. He remembered the last time that he had entered such a bloody arena, as much as he truly wished to forget. It was fortunate that Darius had appeared to have forgotten as his skill at arms had prevented a massacre. The last time that they had encountered such hateful creatures had also been dangerously close to annihilation.

His macabre thoughts were disrupted as the winged boy called out his name with his childish tongue. The questions tumbled out of the mutant's mouth before Sattar could even return the greeting and he could only stand solemnly until the boy finished speaking. So very impetuous.

"They were daemons, child, and of Khorne you are correct. You do have some knowledge, it appears." Sattar looked over at Fariad, however he was predisposed in reassembling Darius' internal organs. "No wonder Fariad travels in your company. You should feel proud of your strength, child. Not many psykers can stand against the rage of Khorne for long without perishing. Although," Sattar pointed into the keep where the child had crudely melted the symbol of the half moon and smoke above the ruin of Lord Faulk's throne, "your patron has likely had a hand in it, if only for the gleeful ruin you bring to the followers of the Brass Throne. It is not often that the Blood God's hounds and huntsmen are laid low by that which they hate."

Nate couldn't help but smile almost bashfully at Sattar's praise, punctuated as it was such things were Rare for the boy.

Usually he was told he was insane at best.

"Thankfullness. It means much from one of your kind." The boy stood a little taller, and more composed."..but Sattar is right. He sees more clearly than the others, we suspected, see it now. Tzeench gifts us with great power over the warp, for he has plans for us. He gives us power to destroy, lets us survive for his own schemes, but if we fail him, or if we try destroy one of greater fate, he would as easily discard us."

Nate looked as if he were going to continue, but stopped for a moment and asked instead "What of yourself? Your colours scream purpose, but not to any of the four.. Who has your.. Loyalties?"

Sattar narrowed his eyes at the youth, although the visor of his helmet did not betray his emotions to the mutant. "I serve the Warmaster Abaddon and Chaos Undivided. Balance in all things allows for strength to be drawn from all sources."

He gestured around the fortress that they had conquered. Warriors of iron plate and flak vests lined the walls and fired relentlessly to keep the bloodthirsty townsfolk at bay. The metal walls ended in the shattered portcullis of the main gate where the white and red mobile fortress bolstered the defence. The Land Raider had surprised Sattar immensely; he did not expect that this world had such a powerful engine of war, let alone that Fariad and Darius had possession of it.

"Consider all this, mutant witch. Do you believe all this could be possible under the banner of Tzeentch or Khorne? It is only through the combination of all the great powers of Chaos that such unity can be had. That is what the Warmaster and the Black Legion dictate. Together, we can strike down the unbelievers that cling to their false worship of the Corpse-God."

"That is what I believe, boy. Your allegiance to the sorcerous ways of Tzeentch grants you power but power is nothing without those who respect it. The strength of many outweigh the strength of one."

Nate listened to the giants rhetoric. He had no idea who this 'Abbadon' was, one of this worlds grander lords he suspected, but what he preached resonated with the boy.

"Yess." he replied. "Yes, one alone is weak. Alone, we would die. We know this, even as we are. We are missing a piece. Each of the Great Ones has their place! That is why it must be Darius who rules Skarsguard! Yes, He is favored by Khorn, but not just that - he is not blind to the other Gods. He Follows. We do not hate Khorn, we came to this city hopeing to gather, Amon and I, But Faulk was weak, Blind. Arrogant."

The boy took a shine to this newest Giant Man-Robot. He did not wish to be friends like with Darius, or respect him as a Mentor like Fariad. But this one, he knew. He Understood. Perhaps, he would need no guidance like the others. Perhaps.. he was also a Risk, and would need more. Time would tell.

"Tzeench is Fate, And we are all of us Fated. This place, This whole world, seethes with the Touch of the Gods. But more than that, It has gathered us hear, from near and Far, thru time and space. We are fated to meet, And I see, And Amon Knows Also. Tzeench is the guiding hand, All plans as his, and All is his plan. But yesss... He is not the only piece on the Board. Each of the Gods must be represented, all but one, All but Death, And all must gathered together. Then we will be strong! Darius walks the Path. Amon too has his tide of followers. Tzeench has his cult, He needs not for those who do his bidding to know it is his." Nate turned, slowly shifting his gaze to glare at Mara.

"One part fails... The follower of Nurgleth is belligerent, And risks failing. If he does, we will need to find another. We will try to save her, for she was sent and so was chosen, But if she diverges the path..."

"We will grow our Cult to Tzeench in time, we already seeks out the worth from the masses of the others. But when we went to Lark, we found few others worthy.. Only you, and see again - Fate saves you and returns you too us, us to you, all as one. Undivided, you say? Alike to Fariad, knowledgeable you are. But of a different kind.. He knows what was and has much lore, but you understand what is. Strength of many, Each in their own way, Yes?" Nate pondered for a moment "What of your Escape from Lark to the Ring of Iron, those that followed, Whom do they follow? Mostly it is Amon who gathers the sheep, Slaneesh does wonderful things with sheep, should I then teach them their place in Tzeench's court?"

In the aftermath of the battle within the Keep, Fariad assisted Mara in tending to Darius' wounds. Though Fariad's knowledge of doctoring was basic as best, right now it was his knowledge of Astartes-specific physiology that was most needed. He carefully observed Mara's ministrations, directing and assisting as required whenever she encountered an area of Darius' rent innards that had no mortal human counterpart. It helped that Darius' odd black blood seemed to have a mind of its own, making the tending of his wounds that much easier - even if Fariad found it a little... disturbing.

"That was quite the fight, brother," Fariad commented absently as he held pieces of Darius' flesh in place for Mara to stitch together, ignoring the throbbing ache in his own left arm. His left pauldron and vambrace were battered and gouged from Faulk's blows, the flesh beneath not much better off. "It will take some time to repair your armour though." He glanced over at the pieces of armour they'd removed to better tend to Darius' wounds. "I am glad you did not overly damage those gauntlets, however," he added, a slight teasing tone in his voice as he nodded at the crimson gauntlets. "Once we can get back to the Kebechet, or at least can send someone there, perhaps you should wear the rest of that suit. At least until we can fix up your own armour."

Sattar turned his head to gaze over the yard of vehicles. He could not see any followers of Nurgle in the warband that had been assembled by these individuals. The din of the firefight was punctuated by the periodic blasts from the laud hailer as the exalted one of Slaanesh sought to woo the locals to their banner. The daemon-inhabited shell of the priest in the Ring of Steel was correct; the God of Desire chooses its servants well.

"You speak of fate, mutant boy. You seem to believe that you know of the many twists that Tzeentch has placed upon this world and upon you. You are mistaken though."

"The Supreme Changer of Ways is unfathomable. To believe you understand even one small element of his schemes is folly as you could not even begin to comprehend any of it. You are young and think you have the world in the palm of your hand. In reality, you are merely clutching at grains of sand that slip through your fingers."

"Think back to what you said before, boy," Sattar said sternly. "You said that all the Gods must be represented. Why? Chaos is not united simply by your will alone. You display your colours proudly and there are whispers on the winds that resent such sorcery. No, Chaos is united by one who sees all paths and chooses none but their own. The paths of the Gods are but simple struggles compared to the monumental accomplishments that come from sustaining the combined temptations of all of the Gods."

"You say she fails Nurgle, do you?" he gestured at Mara as she administered what simple medical treatments she could upon Darius. "You overestimate such a human. She does not follow the Plague God anymore than you do. The temptation is there certainly, however there is no worship. And if she doesn't worship him, such is the nature of Chaos. He may claim her but one of the other Gods might stake their own interest in her soul. The games the Gods play with mortal lives is beyond our comprehension."

"As to your question, I cannot divine a soul's allegiance merely by looking at them. The mortals of the Ring of Steel are bound to the master of that facility. A mighty construct of war looms over them and they swear fealty to it. That is what I know. What you do with that knowledge is your own prerogative."

*   *   *   *

Mara served to return Darius to his full strength however the daemons had nearly struck him down entirely. The extent of the wounds to his body would have killed anyone lesser, that was for certain. The strength that he possessed was colossal; Faulk never stood a chance against such might. Although, seeing the full extent of his body at this moment, Mara wondered is Darius was even human. It was certainly something else and she was thankful for Fariad's assistance in instructing on the various modifications that had been made to his body. Two hearts! Bones like steel beams! Thick armour buried in his chest!

Fariad's chatter with Darius was distracting but she didn't say anything. She knew that they were giants of men and could crush her easily if she annoyed them. However, she had to say something soon.

"My lords," she interrupted as she stepped back, wincing slightly from her own injuries as she bowed, "I have done all I can to mend Lord Darius' wounds for now. His body is robust and will heal over time with continued care. I know that is unwelcome news but my skills are limited and I don't know of any magiks that could revitalise him in a way that my medical skills could not."

The boy looked frustrated "Yes, but No. We do not seek to fathom, we do and have faith. We seek Tzeenches favour, because he grants his chosen the kind of power we seek. We are a little fish riding a great wave, seeking its zenith. The other gods, we have no skill in their ways, so we surround ourselves with those that do." The child grumbled.

"I do not speak so goo- so well. But I an learning, I ar- I am good at learning. Perhaps we can- I can learn much else from you, as I do from Master Fariad. If you are willing to teach, to help me become like You" Nate gestured to Fariad to indicate he meant like the Space Marines.

Sattar detached his helmet and stared at the frail boy that stood before him. He tried to keep a level stare but the mutant kept twitching and he kept losing eye contact. The mottled, feathered body of the boy seemed to bob and bounce as the mutant could not stand still. The long, elongated strands of the whip that had replaced his arm also coiled and pulsed where it had tied it up.

The dark tattoo upon Sattar's cheek unraveled and slithered across his face before coiling back into its original position. His dull gray eyes glazed over slightly before he blinked and smiled at the youth.

"I believe I can teach you," he said calmly. "Your mortal curiosity should be nourished and guided. However, you have a long way to go before you can become like me. Power and strength are important but they are tempered in the knowledge of experience and understanding that is born of patience. Knowledge is power, after all," Sattar smiled as he borrowed one of Fariad's axioms.

To be brought so close to the brink of death again, again? "Yes, again." Spoke Darius in response to himself. It reminded him of another time this had happened, perhaps the first, perhaps the last time, but in this moment screeching burst of daemonic binary chittered in the air, as the robed figures poured what was neither daemonic nor archeotech into his wounds.

Darius chuckled at the memory, straining what little support his innards had, though he held faith that blackened ichor that coursed his veins would, as it had since that day, keep him going. What appeared dark blood once spilled from wounds instead appeared as a sticky webbing containing his organs, when within his body. Though impressive, it was not all the work of the blood, nor even his physiology that sped his recovery, the ministrations of the members of the warband were no small feat.

"So how long until I can stand? At least without risking disemboweling myself, I have a rebellion to crush, or inspire, I forget which."

Before the answer came Darius' mind wandered, Faulk though dead was no mere human in combat, Darius had fought marines that were less of a challenge. And the way he called out to the blood god for aid, as though he had earnt enough notice for a god to favour him. But it had worked had it not, for all the good it did him. In that moment Darius silently called to the gods, the great and the small, he demanded they acknowledge his loyalty to the blood god but sought direction and aid from all who would hear him.

>

Fariad regarded Darius curiously at the vague reply and the odd chuckle, but he made no comment. Instead he turned his attention to Mara as she spoke up and stepped back with a slight bow. "You have done well, Mara," he assured her levelly with a solemn nod. "Do you need any assistance in tending your own injuries?"

At Darius' question, Fariad looked back at him, eyeing him critically for a moment. "You can probably stand up now without undue risk, but you should just relocate somewhere a little more comfortable and private. You will need at least a full day's rest and tending to before you attempt anything too strenuous," he advised. "The situation here seems to be well enough in hand, and if something serious comes up, I am sure Sattar, Khalid and I can handle it for now." His voice took on a tone of mock-solemnity. "The great and triumphant Lord Darius need not bother himself with the insignificant mewlings of the petty mortals outside the walls unless and until he so chooses to grace them with his presence, in his own good time."

"We can be patient, and learn. Yes, we can wait if we must. But time may not let us.."

Nate looked over at Darius as he finally arose, a look of almost guilt writ upon his face. "Our power is overwhelming.. It gathers foes, like moths to the flame.. Our mind is strong, powerful, and will be more so with the knowledge of you and Fariad. But our body.. they tried to make it strong, many others were sacrificed - we were imbued with their essence - but the masters then were fools, false power, little knowledge. Our body is still too weak, we tried to preserve it, to be safe, let the mighty robots do the fighting. And we almost lost Ammu Darius. We saved him, but still were almost too slow, almost waited too long." The boy seemed genuinely disturbed at the Space Marines wounded state, blaming himself in part.

"Fariad say's we did good, waited until the right moment." Nate looked up at the towering form of Sattar "But what if we could have burned them to ashes before they got near us. Darius is the killer, but deamons cannot be killed. We are the destroyer, it is our place in the Eayila." The boys gaze lingered, clearly awaiting Sattar's opinion, had he done right, could he do better, what was the lesson. All of these questions were writ upon the diminutive mutants face.

Darius eyed the brass throne suspiciously, had the guards been beating it again or had it changed shape itself? Neither would surprise him. He sat and bathed in the slow flow of blood that rose.

"Bring me a runner." Darius called to no one in particular. Looking directly at the warrior that had been called in from the wall he could see the young man was brave but tense. "Find Fariad, have a flyer sent to scout the coast to the west, we seek towns for raiding and slaves. If more flyers can be spared then search further afield too, we shouldn't deplete our local resources totally. Try not to offend him, he may not worship the blood god but that makes him no less deadly. Go."

As the warrior left Darius turned to Vallett, newly appointed Lieutenant through rite of blood. "The tournament went well I thought, as did your fight. Find out if there are any who have lost favour in the fights, I seek fighters who are capable but desperate. They shall be flown to the city we found to the south and sent into the spires to gather slaves from the mutants there. Any who return with a slave shall be redeemed and given a position with us if their own will not have them back, or if they prefer it. See that the cultists mark each who go out, so any who fail to return serve even in death."

Vallet nodded before leaving, Darius wondered just how far his loyalty would extend but didn't dwell on it, there would always be something to bribe the warrior with, and failing that his death while not ideal was not out of the question.

It had been some time since Darius had worn armour of a set, or at least that appeared to be of one design. The chained skull ornamentation of the pauldrons and chest and the brass trimmed red of the armour pleased Darius. "I think I'll keep this set, at least as best I can." And with that Darius set about inspecting his armour, familiarising himslef with it and tinkering with components he was certain not to break.

As an after thought Darius said "And someone find out how Jun faired after the fight, I'm sure I can find a task for her."

Fariad was out in one corner of the courtyard of the keep, meticulously checking over the Land Raider for any signs of damage or wear from its activities during the battles against Faulk's forces and the subsequent tournament. Now that Darius had decisively won the tournament and cemented his position as new ruler of Skarsgard, the Land Raider was no longer needed to block the open gateway - indeed, the repairs to the broken gate looked to be well under way.

Khalid stood sentinel near the crimson vehicle, silent and near-motionless, save for the movement of his helmet to track anyone who came too close. Most gave him a wide berth, wary of the autocannon he hefted as easily as a shotgun. One warrior, however, emerged from the keep and paused to look around before heading straight towards Khalid and the Land Raider, purpose in his stride.

Within the Land Raider, Fariad was alerted of the runner's approach by a wordless pulse of warning from Khalid. He opened the Land Raider's side door just in time to see the runner halt nearby and declare, "Lord Darius has a message for Fariad."

"Speak it, then," Fariad said as he emerged from the vehicle and stood beside Khalid. The runner quickly reeled off Darius' orders; once he was done Fariad nodded slightly. "Understood. Return to your duties." He didn't bother waiting to see what the runner would do; instead, Fariad gave Khalid a silent mental order to stay by the Land Raider, then strode towards the Keep.

He entered to see Darius tinkering with the crimson armour Fariad had modified and supplied him with. Fariad still found it strange to see the otherwise familiar armour marred - at least in his opinion - with the brass trim and the chained skull motif. But it was only a minor strangeness compared to all the other strange things that had been happening lately, and at least Darius seemed pleased with it.

"You look to be settling in well," Fariad commented conversationally as he strolled towards the throne and halted at a respectable distance, still inwardly wary of the brass throne's apparent power. "How are you finding the armour?"

"The armour sits well, though its external appearance only highlights its failed systems. Torc I think it was, the final challenger in the arena, he stank, I hadn't noticed how bad my environment seals had gotten. And the ring of steel, if we are to enter the depths then i'd rather have my helmet systems functional. Maybe the Dark Mechanicus have spare parts" Darius said with a grin, knowing the price they ask.

Taking a seat on the throne once more Darius spoke loud enough to be sure that the guards and maybe a few nearby could hear. "As for settling in, the throne may be comfortable but I do not want to settle, the mountain will return to the stars soon enough and in my absence another will be assigned to rule Skarsgard. I may return in time for more warriors, but untill then Skarsgard is a staging post."

Fariad frowned thoughtfully, though the expression was hidden beneath his own helmet. "You are right in that there are still several systems that need repair, but I do not recall the environment seals being one of them," he mused. "I will check them next time you are back at the Kebechet. As for spare parts, we might not need to resort to the Mechanicus - now that most of the rubble has been cleared from my ship's corridors, I may be able to find what we require amongst its stores. I just need to take the time to check through everything."

As Darius sat back down and declared his intentions to the rest of the room, Fariad glanced around, then lowered his voice so that only Darius would hear him. "Speaking of the mountain returning to the stars, I have a... request... that may help that happen more quickly. The people of Skarsgard are yours, now. I require the best of their workers, their craftspeople - not just the ones known for the quality of their work, but the intelligent ones. The ones who are quick to learn, and who are willing and eager to learn more. There is only so much I can do with servitors."

(( Gorram how did I manage to miss this reply for so long, agh. >_< apologies!))

Fariad nodded slowly and let out a soft hum as he thought. "Though the craftspeople I'm after most will be interested in learning for the sake of learning, you are right in that we should recompense their clans for their absence. I think first pick of villages for raiding will work to start with, at least until I have time to take full stock of what gear we have available to trade. It will also give us time and opportunity to find out what sort of equipment they are most interested in, as well."

He idly drummed his fingers against the armoured spine of the book that hung at his waist. "Another concern I have, especially if we are going to be using the fliers heavily, is locating sources of the materials needed for promethium. The Kebechet has only so much fuel in reserve. Perhaps the locals will already know of useful areas - either way, it is something else to look out for on these scouting missions. I will be returning to the Kebechet soon to start the first of those patrols - will you be coming as well, or staying here for now?"

The smell of fresh promethium, the moans of the enslaved and the screams of the tortured, Darius smiled "Today is a good day."

With the Khornate warriors satiated, at least a little, and a stead supply of promethium on the way, it was time for Darius to visit the Demons again. Darius' walk to the Silent Mountain drew no attention, or maybe it did but no one was willing to interrupt. Once inside Darius decided that the Land Speeder would get him to the Demon Mt in good time, and coincidentally it seemed to be the latest vehicle Nate had taken an interest in. "Greetings Nate, won't it start?" The boy replied no, referring to the machine in his own esoteric way. Powerful though he was, it seemed his aptitude with technology was little compared to Darius...

Darius' vision blurred, was this a field in which Darius was skilled? Darius had not remembered having any aptitude with technology, maybe he was wrong, maybe he knew more than he remembered. "Move aside, see here the pannell beneath the controls, move the plug from here to here, and..." The speeder roared to life and moments later the duo sped off from the ship, veering towards the mountain.

The Daemon Mountain loomed against the northern sky as the Land Speeder rapidly approached it. Now that the layer of ice had completely melted in the summer, the landscape was even more firmly dominated by the peak. Volcanic ravines had been carved in the earth in ages past and it was along one of these that Darius and Nate skimmed along, moving closer and closer to the passageway to the mountain hold.

They raced through the opening and quickly sped through the layers of rock before opening up to the miasma of the Warp realm. The bridge and the buildings themselves remained suspended over a chasm of melting and bubbling magma while plumes erupted and cascaded around them. No other vehicles obstructed their path into the daemonic realm and they quickly pulled into what could only be termed as a stable. Daemons and spirits loitered in the shadows while Screamers sailed overhead, screeching all the while. Envious eyes peered at the duo from all angles while the frenetic chaos of the trading area echoed in this place. Daemons, humans, and even aliens mingled and bartered; trading favours, selling slaves, and forming dark pacts.

Despite the nature of Chaos, the Daemon Mount was an irony bobbing in an ocean of madness. Darius and Nate were no more out of place than the misshapen locust beasts that flitted across the sky, hauling their forsaken wealth on a litter between them. While their power in the mortal realm was significant, here Darius and Nate were no more important than the slugs that glowed softly on the sides of the impossible buildings.

Glaring haughtily at the glowing slugs Darius felt a sense of pride and import, before momentarily wondering what became of failed champions of chaos.

Striding into the marketplace he considered what to do first, would he seek greater knowledge of the gods, not just his chosen god, but of all their pantheon? Or would he once again attempt to establish an understanding of the currencies of this realm?

In the end he chose both. Moving from being to being, cultist and demons, untold horrors and twisted wretches he sought to learn. He asked after marks and symbols and their importance, how to know the works of each of the gods and how to serve each, not that he would serve all but to know the signs of service in others. With the marketeers and personal traders he would ask the worth of items, careful to avoid making deals and not trying to decieve his intent.

What is the worth of a soul? Does a warriors soul hold more weight to some? How many slaves to buy a Chainsword? A Power Sword? A full set of Power Armour? What would you give me for Faulk here? He fought well! What of Torc, or Frank the Axeman?

Knowing of course that prices were fluid and that while he was not an imbecile, neither was he a savant, Darius resolved to take caution with any serious offers made.

"Now, where has Nate gone?"

Fariad made his way out from the cramped depths of the recently-claimed promethium drilling rig, his mood as dark as the machinery around him. The hopes he had carried for finding anyone with technical expertise and knowledge had swiftly faded once he had started talking with the inhabitants of the rig - he'd soon found out that the idiots had only managed to keep it running through rote and routine passed down from generation to generation, with barely a shred of understanding amongst the lot. He'd quickly dismissed the humans he'd been talking to, and begun to examine the rig himself.

His preliminary attempts to garner some comprehension of the machinery's workings himself had proven just as fruitless though, especially since there were so many areas his armoured bulk wouldn't allow him to even reach. Removing his armour wasn't an option he even wanted to consider, particularly given the health - and lack thereof - of the rig's irradiated, chemical-burned population.

Fariad finally reached the exit and manoeuvred through the hatch, then stood up straight and rolled his shoulders back with a quiet sigh. "I should turn them all into servitors," he muttered in Prosperan to Khalid, who had been waiting outside the rig. "They might actually be somewhat useful - or at least more tolerable - then." Khalid made no response, and merely fell into step behind Fariad as he began heading back towards the Kebechet.

They rounded the corner of the rig just in time for Fariad to spot the Landspeeder - his Landspeeder - zooming off and vanishing into the distance. He froze for a moment in surprise and outrage, his already bleak mood darkening even further. But there was nothing practical he could do about it for now, so he just took a deep, calming breath, muttered a few choice profanities, and resumed his trek towards the Kebechet. And as he walked, he occupied himself by thinking of potential ways to install remote control access into his vehicles.

Spoiler:

Nate beheld something that roc'd his world.

As he beheld this beacon of inspiration, he thought back to the days before Him and Darius made this trip to the Daemon Mount.

The hanger bay was engulfed in flame. Slaneshi menials were fleeing from the inferno, but not before letting it's touch fill them with sensation.

Suddenly, the flames cut out, revealing a Thunderhawk gunship hovering a few feet from the ground. The primary engines had stopped the vehicle cleanly in the middle of the hanger, but none of the occupants had been willing to bet on the Airship stopping in time.

It had returned into the bay at speed, far to fast for an ideal landing and facing the wrong way to be able to see where it was going. The Driver had gunned the primary thrusters afterburners, which had stopped the vehicle in an inferno.

Suddenly, gravity took hold of the ship again and it thudded to the deck. The doors opened, the slaneshi crew scampering out, expressions of ecstasy competing for relief that they had survived the experience. When the pilot had told them they would tech him to fly the vehicle, most had simply accepted the inevitability of a fiery death, one way or another.

After a few moments, the pilot exited the vehicle. Swooping to the deck, the fires still burning suddenly went out.

"Why is it called 'Killswitch!' It kills nothing! it does the opposite of kill things, it turns the killship off! Stupid pilots.. Ohh! that one next!" Nate exlaimed, hopping over to where the Land Speeder lay. By his estimations, Fariad would still be busy for some time before lessons were due to start. The scrabble of chaos worshiping mortals seemed to agree being busy was a good idea, and set about doing so elsewhere, while Nate tried to start the Vehicle

Back in the present, rubbed his hands together. The Deamon Engine had begun to feed and he could not take his eyes off of the majesty playing out before him. "One day..." he muttered, to the creature he had decided to call Hank 2.0

Spoiler:

The cry of burning slaves caught Darius' ear, "What is that boy up to now?"

As Darius step around the corner he saw a demon engine perched off the edge of the bazaar, burning the group of slaves chained before it. Nate stared wided eyed at the beast and Darius could practically sense the awe and hunger emanating from the young psyker.

"One day indeed Nate"

The boy looked up at the towering astartes, and smiled "But first we must grow stronger ourselves. We wants to be like you, Uncle Darius" Nate gazed around the bazaar, deamons haggled with mortals and other daemons alike.

"We must seek one who knows of ritualistic lore." The boy patted his small datapad, etched over with arcane sigils. "The Ritual of Flesh Change must be mastered for us to try. And you can teach us to fight with strength as you do!"