A Space Hulk is labyrinthine in structure, and impossible in scale. Depending on which ships compose it, they can be anywhere from ten to a thousand kilometers long, similarly deep if they happen to build themselves correctly, and every meter composed of no less than a thousand twisting corridors that, depending on how twisted the Warp has made it, are nigh-impossible to map out. It was therefore no surprise that Lucius, wandering alone through the corridors of whatever ship he'd found himself in, was irrevocably lost - he maintained a keen memory, enough to guide him back to the wreck he'd stepped out of a while back, but why he'd ever want to return there escaped him. Food was not forthcoming, of course, though corpses were occasionally present, and if liquid water was available somewhere in the place, it would like as not be nearly undrinkable for any number of reasons.

Not that that stopped the frenzied cultists hollering from somewhere in the Hulk, still audible even from this distance. Or... had they gotten closer? Surely not. That'd be an insane coincidence... which it seemed was exactly the way the Gods liked to work, so it was in fact completely logical to assume they were following him. Somehow. Frankly, if they did, it'd be irrelevant at best, and actively harmful at worst, for the noise they were making would surely draw in threats from other portions of the ship...

Not that it mattered, naturally, since the very next corner he took put him almost face to face with a breed of mutant he'd never seen before. A great many instances of it, in fact: some with three or four arms, some with beady black eyes, most with claws on the ends of their hands and sharpened teeth and purple-blue skin, and all bald to a man, give or take some almost-exoskeletal forehead protrusions. One of them, apparently the leader of this group with a surprising lack of deformity, stepped forward, for the moment apparently signalling the others to hold back.

'Ahh... so one of your sort has arrived here,' it uttered in a smooth, near-serpentine voice, grinning ever so slightly. 'Our Father knew of you, and others as well, but I did not think I would live to see the Space Marines grace our Hulk so... how joyous.'

'...yyyyyyes,' Lucius began, not entirely sure how to proceed with this... thing. 'I am definitely on a Space Hulk. Pardon me, who or what are you?'

'You are... not informed? Well... do you know of the Great Devourer?'

'No.'

'Are you sure? It will consume all who deny it, and uplift its faithful to immortality?'

'Again, no.'

'Hrm. Let's see, what heathen terms do the Imperials use to describe us... have you heard of Genestealers, and their Patriarch Broodlord? The Primus, the Magus?'

'Try killing a planet, and I might learn some of that terminology. Otherwise, is there a point to your rambling?'

'What a shame,' the mutant... the alien? [i]It[/i] uttered, shaking its head. 'I did wonder if you had yet learned of us... it seems not. Then our fight shall be all the easier.' With this, many of the freaks in the crowd began readying up for a fight, those armed with weapons hoisting them for a charge, those not simply crouching down as though to pounce, snarling incoherently. There was, he noted, a pattern to this, the less-deformed ones being more likely to wield weaponry than the more deformed, with the exception of one very bulky mutant with a great hammer. Not that that mattered, because against that many creatures, even the speed and strength of an Astartes was subject to testing, especially without power armour or most of their skillset.

Then again, minions to even the score always helps.

'There he isss! The Sssscccion!' somebody yelled from down the corridor perpendicular to that of this mutant cult. Not half a second after that, just enough time for him to lean back and look back the way he'd come, the horde was charging down toward him, alternately screaming for blood and hailing him as their leader, master, Champion of Chaos, and all sorts of praise. And if he had their blessing, their loyalty...

'I have found something for you to kill!' he yelled back at them, ordering them as he should be- as he'd rather not, that is to say. 'Just round the corner!' Naught else needed to be said, as the screams for blood doubled, tripled in veracity.

'...what? W-what is that? What have you summoned?' the xeno-mutant leader stuttered, his calm demeanour fraying to bits at the sound of the masses charging toward him. Allowing himself to smirk at the sight, Lucius stepped to one side of the corridor, the mutants now twitchy and looking between him and the encroaching roar of battle, seemingly distracted from attacking him as a result. Was a show necessary at this point? Not at all, but it suited Lucius to show that he was the one in control now.

'Ladies, gentlemen, and disgusting xeno freaks,' he stated, gesturing toward the nearing crowd, 'I present to you... a horde of Chaos cultists.' The bland ending was, at least, somewhat offset by the surge of bodies rounding the corner at that moment, the cultists themselves a mess of Chaos Undivided, unordered and maddened, and only becoming moreso on sight of the creatures, who they immediately charged at with all guns blazing.

'Have fun with that,' Lucius concluded, half-directed toward both sides as they collided with one another, his voice drowned in a sea of combat that flowed around and past him as if he were a rock. He had no intentions of maintaining this crowd for much longer, helpful as they'd been, and so began to wade back the way he'd come, the cultists who had yet to join the fight at least holding the presence of mind to brush against him and scream about how loyal they would be from now on, and how they hoped he'd bless them later if they had the time to say as much. Not that he cared. He'd rather be far away from them, as far as possible, the other end of the Hulk, the galaxy perhaps. The association annoyed him so very much, a reminder of his own ties to the Ruinous Powers.

The time it took to finally be free of the horde was surprisingly little. He was sure there were more of them on the ship than that, more than even the possible deaths on impact would counteract... so, a splinter group of the whole thing? Maybe. Either way, he allowed them to pass by, and ultimately found himself alone. That is, except for one rather annoying man, one who proclaimed how very much he loved the Chaos Gods, Tzeentch in particular, and how he loved Lucius for being their Champion, and how he was not blessed by Tzeentch with many gifts, but did have a third eye hidden under the clothing on his shoulder and could show it to him if he wanted, and also the knack for telepathy, and communicating with others over great distances, so he could allow the cult to hear of his incredible exploits even when he was not with them, and [i]for the Emperor's sake would you shut up already you annoying ratty little fecal pellet?[/i]

But Lucius did not say that out loud. Instead, for some unfathomable reason even by his own standards, he said 'If you remain quiet, and do not anger me, I will allow you to travel by my side. Do not talk unless spoken to, and in particular do not try to convince me to take Tzeentch on as my only God. I will choose him if I feel he suits me, in time. Break those rules, and you will die on this ship alone, forgotten by the God you so love.'

'O-of course, my lord sire leader!' the peon lambasted in a most servile, sycophantic fashion. How weak of mind he was, and no wonder he'd received so few gifts from the patron of such things. 'I shall tell the others of your grand journey as you embark upon it, and be quiet as a mouse otherwise!' At least the Marine would not go mad from lack of contact with others, anyway. Not that he would have otherwise... but, shaking the toady off would not be worth the hassle, he felt. And judging by the sudden jolt of combat memory, a second or less added to the total from that final fight, it was the right move either way.