[b]Onboard the newly reforged and rebuilt Battle-Barge and Flagship of the Eighth Legion [i]Echo of Damnation[/i] in orbit over Pax Argentius[/b]

The demigod stood over the table that dominated the room, a hololith depicting a map of Ultima Segmentum, all about him were his brothers, all awaiting him to speak, and speak he did, Decimus, Prophet of the Eighth Legion began simply, he was a man much like his gene-predecessor, he spoke softly and without menace, a calm tone of voice that had gained the attention of his fellow Night Lords more then any shouting or threats had ever done.

He had gained their loyalty a bit at a time, slowly over a course of time, his foresight was powerful, but limited, it pertained only ever to the fates of his brothers and their Legion. Decimus had spoken to them simply, telling them that if they wanted to avert their bitter fates, they would listen to him, initially they had not.

When his foresight had been proven accurate again and again, gradually more and more of the leaders of the different warbands, began to come to him and listen to his advice, and over time they had begun to trust him more, and eventually, after oh so long a wait eventually...they had all come to Decimus, gazing at him in the same way they had looked at his predecessor, the Soul Hunter, or even their gene-father himself.

Eventually, he had united the Eighth Legion, the very thing Ulthwe had so feared, they had tried to prevent this from happening in slaying Talos Valcoren, who had also born his father's curse, but they had gotten their prophecy wrong, the Soul Hunter had not been the one destined to unite the Night Lords into a single force again.

It had been his gene-progeny's fate to do that, and done it he had, the Primarch had correctly predicted that many would try to bear his mantle, that many would claim to be his successor, and that many would try to unite his Legion, in the end after tens of thousands of years, only Decimus had succeeded, and the reasons were simple.

Firstly the gene-seed had taken to him nigh perfectly to his mortal form, and secondly the curse of his father settled on him with clarity to rival that of an Eldar Farseer's, and finally he had not attempted to claim their gene-father's throne, Decimus was not bloated full of pride and arrogance to believe he could do so, Decimus had merely earned their loyalty on his own merits.

However, nonetheless he knew many viewed him as the Primarch's successor and true heir, the fact was not hurt by one rested on his brow even now, a crown made from a dark adamantium that seemed to suck in the light, and a gemstone the color of blood resting in the center, a strange light coming off of it.

The Corona Nox, the crown of their gene-father, and said to hold psychic impressions from Konrad Curze, while Decimus would verify there was some truth to that, they were so faint that they only rarely came to him with any clarity. And it was unimportant, the crown could fit under his helm, which was convenient, but right now he did not wear it, facing his brothers with his own eyes, dark glittering orbs that betrayed nothing of what he was thinking.

Finally, at last he spoke, having delayed long enough.

"Brothers," He began softly, and watched with faint amusement as, all Legionaries as one stopped their quiet murmured conversations and what they were doing to turn their eyes with rapt attention, Decimus had seen the rot and corruption of the Legion, and had purged it, for that alone they gave their loyalty to him, he had given them purpose once again beyond mindless, pointless piracy and murder.

They could be proud of themselves, gone was the fratricide, no more did Night Lord murder his brother to no worthwhile cause, gone was the pointless slaughter of Imperials, for while it was pleasurable to bring terror and suffering to the Imperium's witless cattle, if it did not harm or bleed the Imperium, it served nothing.

As his gene-predecessor had said once, [i]survival was not enough[/i].

"We stand at a time of our Legion where we have been stronger then we have ever been before, a moment when our power and unified purpose will make those who have survived the fall of the Imperium, to quake and tremble with fear barely restrained, that will burst forth in a tide of unreasoning panic when we at last come for them, the moment we have waited for so long is finally here, the corpse Emperor lies dead, the mighty Imperium lies shattered, and now the Sons of Nostromo have come to reap our final vengeance."

Murmurs of assent and pleasure rippled through the room at this, a Chapter of loyalist scum, or perhaps one of the Legions or bands of more depraved traitors might have cheered, but not the more dignified, and noble Night Lords, they did not put forth any such disgusting shows of emotion.

Decimus continued, knowing they listened to his every word "Long ago, the Soul Hunter performed an inspired act of cruelty, you all remember it well, the Night of Screaming Shadows, this blow struck a devastating blow against the Imperium, and forced them to remember us...the lesson was [i]not learned well enough my brothers![/i]" He said the last with seething anger "Even now, the remnants of the Corpse-Emperor's followers do not seem to have recalled we exist, like a mortal desperately pretending they did not see the shadow out of the corner of their eyes, they battle with one another for power, forgetting that we are here, and we are [i]coming for them![/i]"

The Legion all nodded in grim agreement of his words, pleasure on their faces at Decimus voicing their thoughts so eloquently "Did they heed the distress calls of these worlds we took? Did they even respond to the need of a Chapter of their Emperor's own space marines? No! In the face of their own pathetic, petty disagreements and attempts to grab power, they did not even bother to try and aid those who once were their allies! A truer example of how craven and weak those who swear to the Emperor truly are my brothers!"

"And now! We shall come forth from the darkness, to come for them and make them weep and wail in fear and pain, and when we make an example of more of their worlds, and send forth to the others, captured video of what we have done to their inhabitants, they shall remember then the sons of Nostromo whom they scorned so, and then...they shall scream in fear, for too late shall they realize their peril when our claws close around their throats!"

With a swift gesture he pointed "We make for the territory of the New Macarthans! We shall harvest their souls, flay the skin from their bodies and bring them unswift death! My brothers, make for the ships! [i]Ave Dominus Nox![/i]"

As one, his brothers slammed fists to chests and shouted in unison in response "[i]Ave Dominus Nox![/i]" There was no need to discuss strategy, such things were worthless, if a Night Lord was in a situation where strategy began to come into play, they had already lost, they remembered their Primarch's lesson.

Fear is a blade that grows sharper with every use, a venom that seeps through even the most invincible enemies heart, and makes them weak, there was no need for strategy when your enemy is too terrified to make a plan, and so would prove true with the frail mortals making up their enemies armies.

The Legion began moving en masse to their fleet, herding slaves and slave soldiers aboard, and all the weapons they would need to wage their war, the Mechanicum had been working hard to bring the Legion ammunition, weapons, new forms of warfare and more, and they were ready, as Decimus marched to the bridge, at his side was Variel the Flayer, his brother from Badab turned Eighth Legionary, his trusted adviser, and chief apothecary of the Night Lords.

His cold, unblinking eyes stared ahead as he marched alongside the Prophet, he said nothing, for there was nothing to say and Variel was not a man given to speaking when it served no purpose, Decimus glanced over to him briefly, and nodded in greetings to his brother, but otherwise said nothing. Soon at his other side was Lucoryphus, the leader of the Bleeding Eyes who loped alongside the Prophet, his jetpack waddling from side to side in an ungainly fashion, nonetheless the raptor managed to lend a surprising amount of grace to the movement, but it was when he was in the sky that he proved his worth.

"Prophet," He said, his voice a vox-growl "What have you seen pertaining to the upcoming war?" Decimus responded "What I have seen is uncertain, unfortunately for a conflict of this scale my vision wavers and falters, even against weakling mortals this will not be easy, and we must strike them with swift vengeance and fury, and leave them too terrified to form a proper counterattack."

The raptor grunted in response at that, before stating "Good, if our victory was assured it would be boring anyways." Decimus merely smiled in response at that as he felt the engines of the [i]Echo[/i] begin to activate, it was time for the war to begin...

Within another few hours, the fleet took off, and engaged warp engines, heading their way to remind the remnants of the Imperium that the Night Lords were still here.

Death was nothing before vindication.