How long had it been? Days? Weeks? Hours? Vinicius' mind didn't know, he no longer measured his life in time, it had become impossible to after all those years in transit. No, now the nails ruled his life, and he measured it in bodies and blood. So, he tried to remember... not counting days or minutes or hours, but recount his path in corpses. On some mining world he had been, butchering Overseers and servitors until he came upon a ship. He stowed away and waited... why had he waited? He killed a few humans who had wandered into his part of the cargo bay, that had been when he ventured out. Then screams and blood, he butchered the crew one by one, making his way to the hangar... more killing. He hopped on a dropship, bound for the surface of some world. Slaughtered the pilot, ship went into a dive, hitting buildings, then the underhive... then he was walking again. wasn't a whole lot of killing then... the occasional gutter rat or unaware human or even a mutant... he was in an underhive. a hive world, lots of people. And then... it was the gangers! Yes that one had just happened!

Finally the seemingly bloody statue moved, stirred from his thoughts by seemingly nothing. The old World Eater looked about himself, 10 underhive gangers lie dead around him, cut open or apart by his chainsword, which quietly idled in his right hand, he switched it off to observe his handiwork. Seven had makeshift weapons, and the other three had been armed with slug weapons. Slug weapons- powerful personal sidearms using solid shot projectiles, simple and easy to produce, most often used by Gangers, Rebels, Orks, and PDF forces... why had he run through that? It was in his memories... the Gangers had attempted to rush the massive man, seemingly believing their numbers would overwhelm them, if they had all had autoguns, no... they hadn't stooda chance. The closest two were cleaved clean in half, the third closest had been disembowled and had spent the last few minutes moaning in pain before he died. After his was one who's head had been made red mist, then the one Vinicius had cut length-wise. The next one was kneeling, still gargling blood from the massive sucking wound in his chest. At his feet the empty eyes of the next woman, a hole through the middle of her chest, he had impaled that one. The three with guns had tried to run. Two were nearby, one had broken his spine when Vinicius had collided with him, and the next one was beheaded. The last Ganger was still in his hand, writhing against the wall, trying to beg for his miserable life... Vinicius grew tired of it, and drew him back before smashing his head into the wall, pulverising it.

He let the headless corpse drop, and stared at his red gauntlet. Blood had splattered over his armor and he growled, ripping the shirt off the broken one and wiping some of it off, his white Maximus pattern chest and blue pauldrons still had a few smeared blood splatters on them, but the colors were clear again and that made Vinicius smile. But now the nails were at it again and so quickly. He groaned, bringing his empty left hand to feel at the coils driving into his skull as it throbbed. He shook his head... blood was calling to him, and he looked about himself. He felt the tug, somewhere violence was taking place and he needed in. He followed the seemingly spectral feeling, wandering down the twisting alleys and filthy roads of the underhive. He was not certain how long he traveled, but knew he killed no one along the way. That was when he heard it, shouting and cheering... for blood... a colliseum? He listened, hearing the scream of Waaaaaagh! an orc? a colliseum? Violence? This was it! He had been drawn to this! To the blood! He maglocked his chainsword to his hip, looking at the sign above the entrance to the place, [i]The Gentlemens Boutique of Intriguing Antiques[/i], but that hardly mattered as he worked his power armored bulk through the door, growling as he followed the winding passages and halls, the smell of violence drawing the massive space marine. At some point some unlucky fool had happened upon him going the other way, he was only able to contemplate his utter fear at the Chaos Space Marine for a moment before he was shvoved over and crushed beneath his massive power armoured boots. After what felt to Vinicius like an eternity he burst into the Sanctum proper, the room in the shape of an Eight pointed star.

Now, many worshippers of the Dark Gods no doubt passed into this room... but a fully armored Chaos Space Marine? A World Eater no less? He glanced about the room, so many bodies, Slaaneshi followers, Nurgelites, Tzeentchians all the gods followers could be seen... and the fighting pit. In the center a deep pit where the Khornates could let out their rage and worship Khorne... but that was not why it called to Vinicius, or rather he did not believe it was. He was not hear to shout for Khorne, he had forgotten that, he was hear for violence because the nails drove him. He charge at the pit, dropping into it between the Ogryn and ork already their, his powered joints squealing and whiirring as he collided with the ground, and pushed himself to standing. He ripped free his Chainsword, his eyes filled with glee as he locked eyes with the ork, his armored limbs tensed, and he charged the massive beast, chainsword revving up and ready to tear at the flesh once more.