Before the Night Lord could speak, the doors to the audience chamber swung open and something even larger than either Astartes entered with heavy footfalls. 

It was another Ogryn, though it was immediately obvious at first glance that this one followed a different god entirely. There was no putrid and bloated belly, no noxious clouds of gas or the reek of decay. This one smelled of blood and steel and the light glinted dangerously on the tips of his proud horns. 

"BLOOD! SKULLS!" Gharl yelled, for Gharl was his name, and he punched the air with his ripper gun. It made for a poor greeting but it was all he knew. His vast and muscular form was clad in monstrously thick carapace armor and he was armed with the aforementioned Ogryn-proof weapon, but otherwise the creature appeared to have no other belongings. 

His gaze swept around the room, flickering from the important-looking Astartes to the equally important-looking man and woman on the couch, and he scratched his head. "Boss?" Gharl asked, but he was distracted by the other Ogryn in the room almost immediately -- and, more importantly, by its fleshy, disgusting, odious pet. 

"Cute," Gharl decided.