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Black Crusade: Fires In The Garden

It takes all of Geron's incredibly-limited self-control to avoid calling for an immediate charge to slaughter every single member of the procession for this insult. Or better yet put them to the cruelest torments he can devise.

He doesn't know why he doesn't, they deserve it for this slight. All he'd have to do is snap his fingers and Squarehammer would wade into combat so Geron could find out how many ways there were to skin a cat.

But he stays his hand. And instead scoffs at the command.

"And why should I obey a being too weak to rule alone? Each of you has eight rivals still alive, decide amongst yourselves who's in charge before you go around ordering others around."

Black Crusade: Fires In The Garden

Ugh, this music is so...lacking. Where's the screams of anguish drawn out from instruments of flesh that were formally people? Not that funereal music can't be entertaining (when someone's being buried alive for example), but this is so very dull.

Geron pauses as his companions go for dialogue over fighting. Well, this might end up prove to be more interested than bloodshed, so he'll allow it for now.

He waves off Squarehammer and his minions, having them move back into formation around him. It's a formation based on aesthetic appeal rather than strategic value, but that's an entirely acceptable tradeoff to Geron.

"We're negotiating then?"

Black Crusade: Fires In The Garden

Geron claps excitedly as he sees the foes bearing down on them.

Finally something interesting is happening! At this point only the thrill of possible death or a truly unique experience could break Geron from his boredom, not that he'd have turned down lesser amusements though. A pity these wretches seem to have lost the spark of life, Geron would have enjoyed venting his frustration on them.

Geron flicks his hand out.

"Break them. Let's see if they still know how to scream."

Black Crusade: Fires In The Garden

Geron considers the situation. But a cure's easy enough to provide for a follower of the Dark Prince.

He gestures to his entourage.

"He (Geron hasn't bothered to remember the victim's name) now has the chance to atone for his weakness and bring glory to Slaanesh."

Geron shoves the points of his gloves into Staffanic's side. They're not proper weapons, but they do hurt.

"Inflict whatever agonies on him that are necessary to keep him active. If he dies then it will be a sacrament of pain offered to the Lord of Excess, not another wasted corpse for the Rot God."

Not that Geron is particularly bothered if the wretch lives or dies. He failed, he should consider himself blessed that his Lord cares enough not to just leave him there to waste away.

As for the question of how to proceed...Geron remembers breaking glass. The colors, the sound, the pain of shards cutting into his skin if he stands too close. Their course is decided.

"We can send a few blindfolded minions to smash the screens as we move, that should lessen the amount of work you'd have to do."

Black Crusade: Fires In The Garden

Geron clenches his fist.

Well, at the very least they know the least of his retinue aren't immune. He gestures and Squarehammer pushes Staffanic to his knees in front of Geron, who looks down at him scornfully.

"Pathetic."

He turns to Vael.

"He's infected, I can taste it in his soul. Can you fix him or should we spare him the impending boredom?"

Geron won't partake himself, but it could be worth seeing if the contagion can spread through methods other than watching. Such as ingesting parts of those infected. This spiritual disease was blasphemous, depriving Slaanesh of the sensations that were his due. He would earn the favor of She Who Thirsts by eliminating the contagion and he'd burn this world if he had to. Actually he wanted to, he saw no value for this place beyond kindling.

Black Crusade: Fires In The Garden

Geron hates this place. It's dirty, wet, and full of people that fail to appreciate his brilliance. He considers having Squarehammer rip the Techpriest in half, but doubts that would improve his mood. What's the point in harming people if they don't care when you do it?!

He turns to his compatriots.

"There's nothing of value here. We should leave this wretch to be harvested and move on."

Geron decides to pass the time by picking an expendable minion to expose to the picts. Best to see what effect they have on someone not already predisposed to mindless toil.

Black Crusade: Fires In The Garden

Geron's interest in the old man's story rapidly increases as he hears the effects of the picts. They don't sound particularly interesting, maybe these doddering fools just lived lives so devoid of joy that animals playing each other was all it took to cause addiction.

But if there was the slightest chance to experience something he never had before then clearly they had to seize this opportunity. A spectacular sapience such as his, scoured and seared by the sacred sensations of Slaanesh, shan't sink into sloth like these stolid suppurating sabotaged simpletons. Still, seeking these screened stories would be better served by sacrificial soldiers, not superior speechgivers such as himself.

"No sense in staying still, we should sojourn soon. Sequester the survivors, then we set out to slay all who suppose to supplant us! Their spines shall be shattered, slashed, and stomped, their souls savaged and slurped by Slaanesh! None shall survive, so I say!"

He points to the crowd and makes a gesture at his silent sentinel.

"Now stand and salute! Squarehammer!"

The towering giant brings his hammer down on the ground, indicating to those present that they should applaud.

Black Crusade: Fires In The Garden

Geron has the servant turn so the mirror he's admiring himself in allows him to see the Techpriest in the reflection, a magnanimous action and one he expects to be rewarded. Or else.

"Fine, tell your story. Make it a good one and I'll probably leave you alive."

The shriveled husk bolted to metal doesn't seem to have much good pain left in him, but he might as well gift the man to a lesser servant of Slaanesh, see if they can torture him into insanity. Or sanity given his reaction to the impending death of his planet.

What a wretched place, they were doing the universe a favor by obliterating it. Geron wondered if he should order some of the Technpriest corpses gathered and drained of blood, he'd had Technpriest blood before but maybe this would be a different flavor.

Black Crusade: Fires In The Garden

Geron sighs dramatically.

This would make such a mess for the servants to clean up. Hopefully the rain would do most of the work.

"Hmm. I wanted to make a speech, but there doesn't seem to be much to motivate the masses to do. And none of these wretches look worth gloating over. Oh well, round up any survivors and we'll see what enjoyment we can get out of them."

Still, all the red was somewhat enjoyable to look at. Maybe he'd have the robes the priests wore gathered up, cleaned, and woven into something. He couldn't recall if he'd set anyone the task of creating a blood-based dye but made a mental note to do so if he hadn't.

Black Crusade: Fires In The Garden

Geron reflects on the fact that for someone who sneers at elegance Aedir has a pleasing way with words.

And he's entirely correct as to the fact he and his men are no more than a form of currency to buy victory with.

Seeing no need to reply to the statement of the obvious Geron instead goes back to admiring his reflection before replying to Hagar.

"My problem with the skull-collecting is they never really do anything worthwhile with them. They just stack them in piles, a child could do that. Why not make a sculpture skull out of skulls or make an actual skull throne since they love shouting about it so much? As for our part, we'll do what's necessary and pleasing, they're one and the same. So yes, let's move out."