If you stare long enough into the Abyss, the Abyss will stare back

Laser fire and stubber rounds whizzed by Zehk’s head as he approached the entrance to a sunken temple. Ewryht’eikl had instructed him to reclaim similar sites in order to power up some sort of way line, a current in the warp. With that, the Dark Lord could send a small force to Crion without attracting the attention of all but the most keen Psykers. Resistance was nil at the other locations, but Zehk figured that with this one being closer to Hive Cogger, some of the Flayed Legion (defected was Zehk’s assumption; they did not wear the Hand of Lazarus) might have had fled to it to escape the obvious hysteria that was Hive Cogger.

Zehk summoned his combi-bolter, a daemon-weapon that went by ‘Eclipse’, to his hand and sent a lazy spray of mass-reactive bolts into a grouping of cultists hiding behind a downed tree. He need not kill them, but only suppress them as there was more of the New Order behind him who wore their bloodlust on their sleeve. One of those souls in particular was a spawn named Kri, whom was named after the only noise that it could make. The sound in fact, was an almost-certain death sentence to all who heard it. It wouldn’t take the spawn long to pick up a victim’s scent and hunt it down like a ravenous wolf.

Kri barreled past Zehk, smashing trees aside like they were twigs, and leapt to the unfortunate band of cultists. Zehk turned away in content at the carnage. More cultists swarmed out of the entrance of the temple and took cover behind ferrocrete columns, makeshift barricades and civilian vehicles. Zehk’s forces were easily out-numbered 5-1, though Zehk always preferred quality over quantity. Most of the weapons in the cultist’s possession weren’t even capable of piercing power armour. A shrill voice broke Zehk from his war-revelries.

“Was the order not to ‘stay in formation, you dogs?’ “ Zehk’s second-in-command, a traitor commissar by the name of Helga Schäfer. She stood only a few inches above most men, but that might have been a foot in the eyes of her subordinates. Her face was perfectly symmetrical apart from a monocle over her left eye and her hair was pulled back into a perfect bun that was neatly covered by her commissar’s hat. One could venture and say she valued order and perfection above all else. “You know it's irksome to me when you defy your own order.”

Zehk felt stabbed, not by the words, but by her eyes. She had a way of persuasion that didn’t involve her bolt pistol and worked on both cultist and Traitor-Astartes alike. It was unnatural. “I did… Kri! Form ranks!” Zehk commanded, his armour beginning to feel constricted, “And get out of my head…”

“Apologies, my lord,” the commissar said, bowing in an honest way. She stood back up straight and waved her hand towards the temple. By now, the cultists had stopped firing, but remained wary nonetheless. “First rank, raise shields!”

The first line of Zehk’s men, twenty in all, broken into two lines of ten, raised their makeshift shields in a close fitting line. He doubted that they would stop anything above bolter fire, but against auto and lasguns, they would do fine. Schäfer’s ‘command’ squad approached from between the two lines and joined up with their commissar. The squad consisted of a standard bearer, carrying a flag with the Waxing Moon of Ewryht'eikl painted on it, two of Schäfer’s bodyguards and an ogryn with a massive drum.

40 years ago

In one of the long corridors of the great Payne manor sat a small child. The boy no older than six sat with his legs crossed and gripped two plastic figures in his hand. The boy emulated the battle between the Astarte and beast alone in this long corridor accompanied only by his nanny servitor standing in the corner barely aware of the child. In the left hand he gripped a brutish ork its horrid features made to look even more detestable and pathetic than the green skinned beasts that prowled the far eastern jungles of Cambria. In the boy’s right hand was a red armored warrior of the legendary blood angels, this particular toy was molded in the likeness of Captain Castagon of the fourth company.

At the door way at the opposite end of the hall behind the boy’s back entered a man, though he was in his forties he was indistinguishable from a twenty-year-old in all manners. The man was dressed in fine cloths and had an undeniable roguish look about him. His right arm was bound to a sling and covered in a hard cast. In the man’s still working hand was a colorful box. The man laughed.

“Smiting some foul xenos are we.”

The child was now aware of the man in the room and jumped up running towards him.

“Uncle Tobias!”

The boy ran towards Tobias an wraped his arms around the now crouching man’s neck. The boy soon noticed the sling and with a mixture of genuine concern and curiosity asked

“What happened to your arm uncle.”

Tobias laughed.

“Oh nothing your uncle was being dumb and got himself hurt.”

The boy giggled

“Did you fall in the tub uncle.”

Tobias grinned

“Something like that. But enough about me I got you something while I was in the capital.”

The boy’s eyes lit up as Tobias presented him the bright box.

“For me?”

Tobias laughed

“Unless you know of another Rodrick Payne.”

The boy gleefully took the gift and began tearing at the paper. Payne spoke as the the boy began to unveil his gift.

“I had the finest toy maker in the capital build this one special for you.”

The boy gasped in amazement as he unveiled, the new space marine action figure. The Astarte was clad in deep grey power armor, its right shoulder pad red and the bleeding dragon insignia clawing its way to the chest of the marine. Rodrick could not contain his excitement as he spoke.

“This is Captain Ortan of the third company Blood Dragon’s company. The slayer the Eldar witch king Valundar. “

Tobias had planned to explain all that to his nephew, he was astounded he could recognize the marine by his iconography alone. Tobias looked over to the servitor in the corner in the room.

“It seems Nan has been doing a good job at teaching you all about the fabled blood dragons.”

The boy studied the figure and his face contorted into a frown.

“Uncle, whatever happened to the Blood Dragons? I keep asking Nan and I never get a response out of her.”

Tobias shrugged

“Nobody knows exactly what happened. They were just gone one day, they only left the ruins. But even from those we can tell they were truly great.”

Tobias’s nephew looked up at him and spoke with youthful curiosity
.
“Do you think they’ll ever be back?”

Tobias smiled “Perhaps one day, they’ll return and recount to us all the adventures they’ve had over the last seven thousand years.”

Rodrick smiled “If they did come back do you think they’d let me become a space marine?”

Tobias tussled the child’s hair “Of course they would.”

It was at this time another man entered the room, older than Payne by almost three decades though his hair had only silvered in the slightest. The man was large, his size made even more dramatic by a crimson cloak. He was Tobias’s brother Fredrick Payne. Fredrick was the first born son of the Lord Governor Anton Payne. The second born was Theodore Payne, and Rodrick was the third born. Fredrick being the primogeniture was the heir to the governorship of Crion.

“Tobias.”

Tobias looked up from Rodrick and Rodrick turned to face the new man. Rodrick spoke with the same enthusiasm.

“Father! Look at what uncle Tobias brought me.”

The boy rushed to show his father his new toy. The man smiled.

“Did you thank your uncle for such a nice gift.”

Rodrick immediately turned back to Tobias and embraced him in a hug

“Thank you uncle.”

“Your most welcome.”

Fredrick spoke

“Good boy, now run along your uncle and I need to speak.”

The boy quickly collected the two space marines and began running out of the hall. The servitor care taker grabbed the discarded ork with its servo claw and began after Rodrick with a mechanical walk.

As the servitor exited the room Fredrick began speaking.

“What would father say if he heard you telling his grandson fairy tales.”

Tobias laughed

“He’d smack me upside my head and remind me the Dragons are dead.”

Fredrick was unamused as he looked at his brother’s broken arm and began.

“Keep up with your antics and you’ll be joining them. I mean really Tobias getting in a brawl outside of a brothel.”

Tobias raised his hands defensively.

“The Gilded Lion is not a brothel, it’s a gentleman’s club and I was forced to remind those ruffians what it means to be a gentleman.”

Fredrick was again not amused.

“You are of house Payne, that may not mean anything to you but it means everything to the rest of us. What you do reflects on us all.”

Tobias remained silent.

Fredrick sighed

“We can not change what’s in the past, come see Theodore, Father and I off.”

Tobias frowned

“Picked a bad time to break my arm haven’t missed an ork hunt since I was sixteen.”

Fredrick laughed and began heading for the landing pad

“Brother are you suggesting you’d rather spend the next week sleeping in the dirt covered in the stink of green skins than lounging about the palace.”

Tobias smiled

“I’d hardly call father’s tent sleeping in the dirt.”

Three royal blue Valkyries each marked with the golden sigil of House Payne and their words high gothic “Nemo me Impune lacessit.” Dozens of servitors mechanically scurried about loading baggage into the Valkyries, while nearly two dozen palace guards began boarding the vessels, their carapace armor matching the blue hull of their transports. It was not long before Tobias spotted his father and brother Theodore. Tobias’s father was already well in to his second century the obvious signs of age unmistakable even the best rejuvenate treatments could not mask that. Theodore however looked nothing like his father, his hair was still blonde and eyes still emerald blue. Tobias had a great respect for his brother Theodore, he had been taken captaincy of the Palace Guard an honor Theodore did great justice.

Tobias’s father sneered as Tobias and Fredrick approached, he spoke making little effort to disguise the anger in his voice.

“Tobias.”

Tobias spoke

“Father… it is good to see you.”

The old man nearly growled.

“I suspect any face that isn’t of an Arbities is good for you to see.”

Theodore spoke hoping to alleviate the tension.

“It is a shame you will not be joining us this year brother, I hear there are green skins as tall as iron oaks.”

Tobias smiled.

“I figured I’d let you have some glory this year.”

One of the palace guards approached.

“My lords, we are ready to depart at your leisure.”

The old man hoisted his laslock and spat.

“We are not done speaking of this Tobias.”

Tobias shook his head.

“I doubt we ever will be.”

The old man huffed and turned his back on his son and began heading for the Valkyrie. Theodore gave a final smile to his brother before hoisting his rifle over his shoulder and turning away. Fredrick frowned and spoke.

“Just promise me you’ll behave while we’re gone.”

Tobias smiled.

“You have my word brother.”

Fredrick seemed relieved by his brother’s words, and he placed his hand on Tobias’s shoulder, before turning to catch up with his father. A minute later the engines of the Valkyries roared to life and began to take off.

That was the last time Tobias Payne saw his father and brothers.
Today

The chapel was a dreary sight, the ork raid that ravaged the palace leaving the old stone church scarred. The sky was stone grey and the sea fog rolled all about Payne island. Those sitting in the chapel pews could hear the unrelenting patter of rain atop the chapel’s roof punctuated by the occasional crack of thunder. At the head of the chapel beneath the stained glass rested a sealed black casket. The only sight more wretched than that of the chapel was the visage of Governor Payne his face deathly pale and his sleepless eyes darkened. There were fifty people seated in the chapel pews the majority of which were Crionian nobles who have come to pay their final respects to the governor’s nephew. Among the nobles several outsiders had gathered,

In the front aisle sat a trio of scions Tempestor Castilla, Tempestor Riley, and Tempestor Prime Gallus. They wore their standard combat plate and openly carried their weapons, clearly their last visit to Payne island had destroyed what faith they had in the governor’s personal security. Tobias could hardly blame them, after the last parlay trust was not an affordable luxury. The armor they wore was battered and revealed fresh scars souvenirs from the City of New Pavus.

In one of the aisles to the right sat Lord Commissar Hattori for the Calian Dragoons. The Commissar sat in an attentive matter but there was a look on his face as though his focus was elsewhere, occasionally he looked into the palm of his hand which concealed a small communicator, he frowned when it revealed no news.

Lord General McFallus sat in the far right corner. Judging by the look on the man’s face he seemed not to be in the mood for talking.

Sharing a pew in the center aisle was Inquisitor Randall and Colonel Raven. The two men had only recently arrived on the main world, now fully recovered from the horrors of Cogger Hive. The Colonel had left his signature hat at the door as a token of respect. Randall wore a traditional black suit, as was Terran funeral custom. Accompanying the Inquisitor, the Colonel was the Commissar Alenko and the Colonel’s Sargent Holiday.

Behind the Inquisitor and the Colonel were the four knights of house Valorn. Amanda, Sera, Cassius, and Moira. They wore their house colors of crimson and each dawned a black velvet band around their arms to show mourning.

On the extreme left sat the Chem Dogs Colonel Vannon and Sargent Kyla. Like the scions they were still reeling from the loss of New Pavus. They were their standard flack armor and rebreatheres though they pulled them to the side so they might speak more easily.

Since the pews were not able to support the weight of the massive astartes they were forced to stand in the rear of the church.

Ardan of the Emperor’s hounds had clearly seen better days. The marine’s face was bruised and freshly stitched, he wore a bandage around his left eye, the apothecaries were still unsure if it would heal or need replaced with bionincs. The marine’s purple armor was coated in the char of promethium ork burnas.

To Ardan’s right was the Wolf Lord Ulfric Stormclaw. While Ulfric and Ardan had fought in the same battle against the same Gartgant they had near polar opposite experiences. Ulfric’s Great Company had found a great degree of glory in the war against the dread mob, they had emerged near unscathed and with fresh chapters for their sagas.

Chaplain Exitar of the Carcharodons space marines chapter wore a suit of behemoth terminator plate and the accompanying skeletal helm, his Crozius Arcanum resting in his palm. The marine had conducted well over a hundred funerals, but all of those were for his fellow battle brothers. The Carcharodons being a void bound would jettison their dead into the void, burying the dead in the ground seemed almost vulgar to the chaplain. He would hope that should he fall and none of his brothers be there to reclaim him they would at least have the curtsy of to return him to the void.

Standing apart from the rest of the Astartes was Brother Captain Athenar of the Emperor’s Grey Knights. Athenar disliked speaking with the other Astartes, in his mind he had almost nothing in common with any of them, especially that Ulfric Stormclaw.

Lurking in the flickering shadows of the far left corner was a single space marine clad in a green scout’s carapace The armor marked him as being of the Stone Wardens chapter and judging by the age of the scout it would be safe to assume that he was sergeant. The marine had not bothered to introduce himself and simply yet his chapter’s insignia do the talking for him.

Seeing that everyone was gathered Tobias Payne took the podium.

“Friends, family, we are gathered here today to mourn the loss of the of my nephew Rodrick Cornell Payne.”

“I remember the day Rodrick was born, my brother Fredrick said he has the aura of a true man of house Payne. At the time I thought my brother was speaking lunacy but he was right. Rodrick did the name Payne proud. He was both scholar and soldier, statesmen and devout servant of the emperor.”

It took the governor a moment to resume speaking.

“He died fighting those who would see us fall to disorder, those who would turn their backs on the rest of the Imperium. He died in service to our blessed imperium, may he find his place at the Emperor’s side”

Those gathered made the sign of the Aquilla at the words.

The governor’s face seemed embittered by the very thought of the Tillers. The governor shortly regained his composure and continued speaking.

“I loved Rodrick, he was to me the son I never had. All of Crion is lesser for his loss”

The governor seemed at a loss for words. He turned to the coffin and placed his hand on the smooth black oak. He lingered there for nearly a minute and turned back to the gathering. The governor cleared his throat and spoke.

“I believe Rodrick’s brother Percival had some words.”

Without another word Tobias headed for seat in the front pew as a man clad in the ornate blue armor of the palatial guard swaggered to the podium.

Percival seemed in fine health were it not for the black band around the man’s arm it would be impossible to tell he was in mourning. With a hand resting on the pommel of a hip sheathed sword Percival began to speak.

“What is there to say about my brother Rodrick. He held the prestigious command of Kamrian Keep and it is unlikely they will find another commander as qualified.”

And with that Percival returned to his seat, feeling he had sufficiently paid his respects to his late brother.

Nearly a dozen more speakers approached the podium for the span of nearly an hour and a half. Among the more notable were Rodrick’s two twin cousins Tybalt and Grace, they both recalled fondly the childhood they shared with Rodrick. Lieutenant Antonious Cal had also spoke. Cal was once Rodrick’s second in command, he had since Rodrick’s passing become Kamrian’s new Lord Commander.

As the last speaker finished Tobias retook the podium and began.

“I thank you all for coming, if you would all please make your way back to the ball room of the manor, refreshments will be served.”

Quietly the chapel emptied leaving only the governor and the casket enclosed Rodrick. As the chapel door shut Tobias lifted the coffin door. The morticians had done a fairly good job, still it pained tobias to think he died so violently. From his coat Tobias produced small grey armored space marine and placed it in the crook of the corpse Rodrick’s arm. Tobias heard a noise from behind him he did not need to turn his head to know that it was Tal’ok. Tobias began speaking.

“Tell me Tal’ok do the Kroot have families.”

Tal’ok crossed his arms and spoke.

“Not like you humans do, we have our packs. Those fellow hunters who we live and die for.”

The governor sealed the coffin and spoke

“What do you do when someone hurts one of your pack.”

“We find the person that hurt us and we make them hurt greater than they hurt us.”

Tobias spoke satisfied with the response.

“I have a job for you.”

Tobias turned to face the mercenary. From his coat he removed a folded piece of paper and handed it to Tal’ok. The kroot unfolded the paper and observed the human.

Payne spoke

“This image was taken from the vid recorder inside one of the scion’s helmet. This man was the one who killed my nephew.”

Tal’ok looked closely at the picture of the man spoke.

“Finding a single man on a planet with only a picture to go on is not an easy feat.”

The governor spoke

“I don’t care what it takes, you do this for me I will make you and your kin rich beyond your wildest dreams.”

Tal’ok smiled finding a single assassin somewhere on this big planet was sure to be a challenge, a challenge that enticed Tal’ok to no end. The kroot spoke with a roguishness.

“Consider him dead.”

The governor spoke.

“I don’t want this man dead I want his to suffer. I want you to find those who he would call his family or his comrades and I want him to watch as they die. I want everything he loves to crumble. I want him to lose whatever faith he may have. Then once he has nothing left to live for bring him to me, alive.”

Tal’ok stored picture in wedge in his armor. The Kroot smiled.

“Your will be done Governor.”

Payne spoke as he turned back towards the coffin

“Should you need anything to aid you on your hunt do not hesitate to ask.”

The Kroot turned with a grin and began making his way out.

The black precession began towards the Payne family graveyard began. Here there were hundreds of tombstones each belonging to a dead Payne including the house founder Sebastian Payne. The pall bearers which consisted of the governor and his surviving nephews approached the hole and began the process of lowering the casket with a silver chain in to the awaiting earth. Rain pelted off the lid of the earth sunk casket before servitor attendants with steam shovel arms began raining dirt over the coffin.

Meanwhile in the Ballroom the atmosphere was by far less grim than the bleak mood that had dominated that dreary chapel. The majority of the regular palace guest had already departed leaving only the crusaders. They were waiting on Governor Payne to return from the private burial of his nephew so that they could hold the war council.

Chaplain Exitar had found himself speaking with Ardan of the Emperor’s Hounds. The Chaplain spoke.

“I know you are grieving brother, the death of you’re your Captain Faolan must be strenuous.”

Ardan seemed angered by the Chaplain’s remarks.

“Alpha Faolan is not dead, he is only missing.”

Exitar spoke through his skeletal helmet.

“You must be practical; it is unlikely that he survived. You must act in the best interest of your chapter now, guide your brothers in these dark times. If you require a chaplain’s counsel, I am here.”

Ardan realized the chaplain meant well but he did not like to consider the possibility of Faolan’s death.

“Thank you for your concern chaplain, but I will manage.”

Across the ball room Inquisitor Garrett Randall approached Commissar Hattori who had staked his claim upon a corner some ways away from the rest of the guests. Randall spoke lowly looking for any prying eyes or ears. Randall spoke.

“Any word yet.”

The commissar shook his head

“Still none, I was hoping my man Goya would have reported in by now.”

“Keep me updated.”

Said Randall.

Tempestor Castilla eaves dropped on the inquisitor and the Commissar, while they were carful not to reveal anything it was clear to Castilla that they were hiding something. Castilla then looked at the grand windowpane as the rain bombarded the glass with tiny droplets, it was at this time Queen Moira Valorn approached her.

Moira bowed and spoke.

“Tempestor Castilla, it is good to see you again, though I wish we could meet on a more joyous occasion.”

Castilla grinned and returned Moira’s bow.

“It is good to see you as well my lady. Tell me is it true what they say about you slaying a squigoth.”

Moira swelled with pride at the mention of the gargantuan orkoid but remained modest.

“It is true, you must come to visit us at Grimjoy Hive, so that I might show you the beast’s skull.”

Castilla thought to herself that she would in fact like to see the remains of such a large creature though unfortunately her duties left her with no time for such recreation. Before Castilla could politely decline one of the Governor’s stuffy stewards made an announcement.

“My lords and Ladies Governor Payne is ready to see you. If those of you attending would kindly follow me.”

The crusaders had gathered in the same room they had gathered for the governor’s last war council and they had seated themselves much in the same way. They had repaired what damage the commandos had done, new windows, tapestry and furniture. Though Ulfric noticed a scuff on the floor where he had brought down an ork, he chuckled at the memory. Payne began speaking.

“I thank you all for paying your respects to my nephew, I am truly humbled. However, we have some important business to discuss.”

Tempestor Prime Gallus spoke

“Indeed we do governor, if the rest of you have no objections I will speak first.”

Payne bowed his head and spoke.

“The floor is yours Tempestor.”
Gallus spoke his face betraying some irritation though he gave no names.

“Until recently my scions had the City of New Pavus on lock down, that all changed two weeks ago. When we first arrived in New Pavus the Tillers were only a minor nuisance unequipped ruffians drunk on cheap booze. After delivering the Tillers some rough beatings something changed. I wasn’t sure what caused that change was until now.”

Gallus nodded at Tempestor Riley and the scion produced a piece of metal wrapped in a blue cloth. The scion unveiled it to reveal the remains of a heavily modified las gun.

Colonel raven whistled and spoke.

“That ain’t standard issue.”

Gallus spoke.

“I had a suspicion where this modified technology had originated but I could not prove it until now.”

Gallus tapped some buttons on his wrist mounted computer and on the far wall a white screen lowered into place and a vid projector whined to life.

The video that was captured from the cockpit of the Valkyrie. The dark night was illuminated by the fires that were consuming the city of New Pavus. Rising above the tall buildings of the city was the xeno craft a Tau manta. The sleek armor of the hull vessel ruptured as Valkyrie fired a rocket at the Tau craft and the vid feet cut.

Chaplain Exitar spoke.

“Tau? What are they doing so far from the rest of their pathetic empire.”

Riley interjected.

“We didn’t bother to ask we were too busy shooting them.”

Gallus spoke once more.

“It matters little, the point is they are here and they have aligned themselves with the Tillers.”

Ulfric Stormclaw spoke in a near snarl.

“We must find where these creatures make their lair and flush them out.”

Gallus spoke nodding his head at the wolf lord.

“Agreed but the Tau are not the only allies the Tillers have, Colonel Vannon if you will.”
The leader of the chem dogs arose. He looked about the room and spoke slowly at first.

“Approximately three hours and thirty minutes after the assault on New Pavus began my men came into contact with something… grotesque. The video you are about to see is disturbing.”

Another cockpit of another Valkyrie flew above the firry night of New Pavus. The Valkyrie unleashed its incendiary payload on a group of advancing Tiller soldiers, when suddenly the flyer shook viciously and veered downward, the pilot struggled to minimize the damage of the crash landing. The Valkyrie made its forced landing the pilot and co pilot died on impact. Then the six surviving chem dogs exited the Valkyrie and entered the frame of the front facing camera, one of them went to check on the dead pilots’ status. As the soldier found the pilots dead another of the surviving crew pointed somewhere off screen and then the chem dogs began firing. Their las guns did little good to halt the swarm of flesh eating flies that fell upon them. As the flies bit and pestered the squirming troopers a squad of humanoid creatures stampeded across their ranks, beating the guardsmen with horn, hoof and rifle butt. The video ended.

Brother Captain Athenar spoke his voice riddled with rage.

“There is no question that is the filth of chaos.”

Commissar Hattori spoke.

“So the Tillers have allied themselves with these heretics.”

Colonel Vannon spoke.

“I’m not sure about that. You see we engaged the heretics on the the northern side of the wall thy were totally isolated from the Tillers and Tau forces. They would have been more effective if they had coordinated their assault together. Their strategy seemed to rely heavily on them not being near the Tillers. Perhaps the Tillers were completely unaware of their involvement.”

Gallus spoke sounding displeased with the colonel’s analysis.

“Regardless if the Tillers are chaos worshipers, they are still traitors and need to be eliminated.”

Randall added.

“Gallus is right; we do not have the luxury to give these men the benefit of the doubt.”

Commissar Hattori cleared his throat.

“Regarding these chaos worshipers I have some news.”

The Commissar looked around the table seeing that all eyes were upon him.

“Approximately four hours prior to my arrival on Payne island, my scouts located an abandoned fortress deep in the swamplands of Spiri. As we speak a task force made up of my Dragoons and a squad of Inquisitor Randall’s and Captain Athenar’s Grey Knights are launching their assault on the fortress. “

Murmurs went about the table, Ulfric voiced his opinion.

“I praise your initiative Commissar. While we were here discussing how to best uproot these traitors you had taken action.”

Governor Payne soon changed the topic.

“Baring all this talk of heretical uprising there is some good news. The green skins have been for the most part pacified. With the dread mob destroyed the orks on our moons, our lunar cities are no longer at risk. The Orks on Cambria seem to have quelled themselves, they are no longer attacking our out posts and villages.”

The wounded Ardan spoke.

“Regarding the dread mob, my men are still reeling from the casualties we took, and we are still searching for our lost brother Aplha Faolan. Any assistance any of you might offer would be much obliged.”

Ulfric spoke

“You will have a squad of my finest wolf scouts in your effort to track your lost brother.”

Ardan bowed his head.

“You honor us lord Stormclaw.”

Governor Payne spoke.

“I think we all have a clearer understanding of what must be done. I thank you my lords and call this meeting to a close.”

Hands were shaken and bows were bowed and all exited the governor’s meeting hall except for one Tobias Payne. The governor produced a watch on a chain from his coat pocket. The governor opened the watch and stared deeply into a picture of a women for a few seconds before returning the relic to his coat. The governor stood and headed for the door so that he might wish the departing crusaders safe travels back to their camp.

Oh, you know, stuff...