Makradon finishes tinkering with the modified Narthecium strapped onto the arm of his new brother. He had never seen anything like it before, but trusted in his own knowledge of machinations that he would be able to help adjust it to its' rightful settings. Maybe not on the first try, maybe not on the second, but eventually he would be able to get it in working order. He watches his brother Dark Angel inspect it a bit, having a feeling that perhaps he has gotten the settings wrong. No matter. It always took extra work to get things moving in the right direction. In fact it mirrored the new brothers arrayed around him in the vessel. The bonds of brotherhood and dare he say friendship would take more than one try. More than one tinkering. No, with this group of characters...this will take some time indeed.
Makradon sits back in his seat and watches silently as the Space Wolf Commander makes his way to the front of the craft, casting his large shadow over it. The Space Wolves were rivals to the Dark Angels and thus somewhat rivals to the Guardians of the Covenant. Silly, really... Markradon didn't involve himself in such trivial matters as rivalry and whose was biggest. He had fought on countless battlefields and even alongside the Long Fangs and Blood Claws of the Space Wolves before. Many had died by his side and even one so many countless years before had saved his life on some backwater planet fighting a xenos race that none had ever heard of. And none ever would... No, the Space Wolves were not ones that should be scorned and hated, rivaled and berated. No, they were brothers. Just like all of those sitting before him. The bond of brotherhood came before petty disputes. For it was all a Space Marine had. To break it, well that was heresy. Chaos. We all know what happened before...let us learn from it, so that it never happens again.
The knowledge of the Inquisitor and their new detail with him was no surprise to the Guardian. The Inquisition had its' secrets, but not so solidly hidden that Makradon hadn't found some of them in his extensive years of study and research. It would be his first time working with one for at least a century, but that didn't matter. The wealth of information from one such as them was of great importance in his mind. Nothing pleased him more than knowing that he would be taking in a great deal of knowledge in his new adventure. And knowledge...is power.
The Space Wolf said his farewells to the Kill Team and Makradon signed the Aquila like those around him, feeling the tension of the Dark Angel next to him. This young one must learn to let go of the hate and rivalry...lest it consume him. The giant Astartes left the proceeding and in no time the spacecraft set off, bringing Makradon closer to yet another mission. How many was it now? Inside his internal memory, Makradon could recall everything from the past, every death of a brother, every bolter round gone astray, every enemy downed. He smiled beneath the helmet, his cybernetic eyes whizzing about in what could only be construed as glee. It was time for another one.
As the engines heated and the craft took flight, Makradon pushed himself into a self-induced shut-down, resting and preparing for the trials to come. He was not one to be completely shut down though and so his mind filed through the many items he stored there. Studying. Never resting in his search to overcome the weak points in his mind. A simple miscalculation and one would find themselves at the Emperor's side. Death is not the worst thing that could happen, though.
Eventually the craft met with the Dawnstar and Makradon brought himself back to life. He looked out and saw the ship's docking bay surround the Kill Team's vessel.
At last...it is time.