Vael, for the moment, stood out the least among his peers. His white robes shimmered with color when the light hit them, and his face was covered by the Tarnor mimic-mask, welded back to shape but never repaired to its full glory. The silver weld marks criss-crossed the golden face like scars, rigid when the rest of the metal moved to display emotions.

"I'll take you at your word, Hagar. I've been told that it's a replica of the imperial palace on Terra. I've never been in person, of course, but I'm excited to see how the reality of their architecture matches what I know of it."

Vael's shadow detaches from him, flitting amongst the people and the surrounding flora, exploring the new environment with its warp-born senses.

"How was your journey, Geron? Cooked up anything exciting lately in that kitchenette of yours?"