[@Necroes][@Wraithblade6][@Klomster]


It did not matter how it had happened, nor would it have mattered to those already aboard the hulk even if they had known, but to High Lord Inquisitor Elizabeth Marcus there was no more mortifying moment in her entire existence; there was something...[i]someone[/i] inside her, and there was little to nothing that she could do about it. Though she had tried every text and verse she could recall from her days of training, though she had fought with a will of iron and near unbreakable faith, they had burrowed their way into her mind like a nail driven in with the surgical precision of a medicae implanting a chip within ones skull.

Certainly it was true that such a leap, the possession of another’s body and mind, was something that the Mon-Keigh or Dark cousins of the Eldar were more well known for, and Celalyth had been able to read very clearly the expression of Farseer Gilsadra when she had asked this task of her. An entire hour of meditation had been needed to decide to go forward with this manipulation, but after feeling the warp-presence grow aboard the drifting wreckages – some bastard corruption of ruinous trickery and Greenskin magic – she had been only too happy to help in whatever way she could.

Gazing through the eyes of the High Lord and feeling her raw physical power – as well as her authority over the rest of these Mon-Keigh warrior women – Gilsadra felt the corners of her lips twitch, growing even more so as she gave the order for an all-out assault upon the hulk to begin.

“We must capture that xenos and purge whomever else remains upon the vessel,” came the voice of Elizabeth through the vox and squad comms, “Canoness-Preceptor Sephella will lead the way, her unwavering Sisters at the fore. We must strike were the signal is strongest! Prepare to launch the boarding vessels, we make for the [i]Merciless Aquila[/i] with all haste.”



[hr]



Vedius hit the side of his helmet again with the flat of his palm, the HUD once more smoothing out the staggered runes and a low growl emerging from his throat. He had made his way through the corridors of the [i]Aquila[/i] will all speed, leaving an obvious trail for any to follow in his determination to reach the cargo before any other did, cradling the Phobos-pattern bolter in his hands and scanning every corner as he moved.

So far all he had found was the dead, but he knew that [i]they[/i] would be coming – not that he could say who they were, but he knew that such a prize would not be left unmolested for long; according to his armours internal chronometer, he had slept for over ten-thousand years! That must surely be an error though, the machine spirit playing a trick maybe? There was no way such a thing was possible, unless one had been within the warp, and he did not remember such a thing happening.

The Decurion paused briefly, having come to the site of the fiercest fighting, crimson and purple bodies strewn throughout the large antechamber of perfect architecture. There must have been at least a hundred of them, each motionless where they had fallen, each as covered in dust as he had been not too long before, each a relic of a bygone age that he did not yet know about.

At the farthest end of the chamber stood two huge doors, high and wide enough for two dreadnoughts standing side-by-side to walk through, crafted of adamantium and warded against psychic attack - proof against pretty much anything that could be thrown at them. 

That was unless one knew the assorted pass codes, one very much like himself, all he had to do wa-

That was a sound, a most discernible sound! Someone [b]was[/b] tracking him after all.

Moving with a lack of noise that one may have thought impossible for such an armoured giant, the Emperor's Child made his way toward a sound of gunfire – not just gunfire but [i]bolter[/i]fire at that – making sure his own weapon was loaded as he went; after placing his back against a wall, he peered around the corner to make out three distinct figures. An Astartes there was, clad in the sigils and colours of the Lion's own legion, his firearm barking death at what appeared to be a faintly glowing Orkoid an a rather twisted Martian as well. The time since awakening had just gotten weirder and weirder.

There was no love lost between his own legion and that of the First, but he could not simply let this Brother – and a Techmarine as well, by the appearance of one pauldron – be wiped out by these two adversaries.

“I am with you, Brother,” he half-yelled as he strode forward to stand by the side of the Fallen Angel, levelling his weapon and unleashing it upon the Martian without hesitation.



[hr]



Only a little more time before the ships latched onto the outer hull of the former Emperors Children vessel, then these weak 'Humans' would be used to regain what had been taken, it was so close now that the Farseer smiled once more through Elizabeth. Only when the Canoness-Preceptor looked her way did she let the expression fade, glaring at the other woman and giving a small nod, making the sign of the Aquila over her breastplate and readying those hands – [b]her[/b] hands she reminded herself – for battle.