Chapter 7.0 - Calling in the Coroner - IC

Hydrako clicked his teeth at the sight of the drain and the lack of a downshaft. Knowing where the his next order would send him, he unclipped and donned his helmet...

Brothers, activate mag-boots.

Sapiens started calling out in the noosphere to the remnant machine-spirits of this hulk. If they still had gravity, something was still there, and he could affect it.

Khol looks around the room for any other entrances that are potentially less dangerous than jumping into a whirlpool... 'Can't believe I'm thinking this.... but I'm sure the codex speaks against jumping into a deadly whirlpool.', as he thought to himself when Hydrako's body language and Sapien mentioning mag boots to take the route. He keeps his lascannon at the ready in-case another one of those tentacle monsters decide to show up.

Bleda activates his mag-boots and waits with a mix of curiosity and trepidation as to what Sapiens is going to do.

Lucius took the melta weapon off of its rack gently, locking in the ancient fuel cannister that accompanied it. He clipped it to his combat rigging and moved on.

As Draco entered the waterfall room, Lucius clicked back a confirmation to Sapiens and activated his mag boots. He had a jump pack on, as he always did, so he wasn't too worried about the fall. Those without, however, might need some assistance.

"Jump packs are the obvious answer here, but we don't all have one. Those with could assist those without potentially. Hmm, Draco, ideas?"

"Someone needs to go first. Whoever does can confirm what precautions need to be taken for those who come after. I volunteer." There was likely to be danger, but Cassiel physiologically could not be afraid. Whatever waited he would meet with the weapons and skill at arms he brought with him and it would be enough.

"Agreed, but not without support. Grimnir, go with him."

Grimnir was the obvious choice as he was Draco's point man, but Lucius figured he and Cassiel could use some more bonding time.

"Roger that." Cassiel leaps into the hole before activating his jet pack on low power to slow, but not reverse, his descent. He knew the wolf scout would be just behind seething that the first chapter went first. The glow of promethium jets gave the falling water a ruby glow reminiscent of the alarm klaxons when they fell into the warp, but still strangely beautiful. Cassiel pushed any aesthetic considerations from his mind and cast about with his helmet's augmented sensors to report what he was seeing.

Hydrako waited for the order to jump. His plate would take much of the shock from a high fall. It had served him well when he had leapt from Valkyrie onto the back of a Harridan. That had been a satisfying kill.

I will leap down in support if required, Lucius.

Cassiel glides into the dark hole with ease while Grimnir starts backing in with the climbing kit.

The current here was strong, and it strained Grimnir to not let the current carry him into the abyss. Slowly, methodically he makes it to the edge. Looking over teh precipice he barely sees Cassiel waiting for him with all the water splashing his face. He back off the edge and feels the weight of a veritible waterfall pouring on him from above. If he had thought standing against the tide was hard then holding his own weight by the arms instead of the legs was more than that.
Hand over hand, he lowers himself down.

Cassiel waited for Grimnir as long as he could, but the jump pack only had a hover time of 5 minutes and he needed to set down. With hover time running out, he lowers himself 2 decks and exits the earily calm center of the 360 degree waterfall. The sudden pressure of 1000's of gallons puts a sudden strain on the rapidly overheating pack, but the water itself starts to cool it off and Cassiel was quick enough to set his boots on relatively dry ground.

It was another room, as big as the one he left. It was dark. No light besides the diffused light from the lift shaft. All the walls were laced with wet corrosion, but the good news was that there was no water adding to the whirlpool Grimnir was navigating as he himself stepped out of it.

He takes a few steps forwards into the dark. Nothing suspicious. Just silence save the sound of the water behind him. The ground was wet, but not even as much as ankle deep. At this time Grimnir jumps from the water wall and onto the ground. He had a hard time of it, taking a second to get back to his feet and refusing aid from Cassiel.

2 Decks up:

Khol was looking for spots to blow a hole in the floor. This would cause a diversion in the water flow and make the whirlpool easier to traverse. It could also alert more of the Lamprey's to your location.
Sapiens was also tackling the whirlpool issue. He was looking for a way to reverse gravity and cause a reverse flow that an astrates could walk against.
Neither of these options had seemed to interest Lucius, but it was good to have those options if they were needed.

After some time the rest of the kill team was able to get down the 2 decks.

These were the holds that was mentioned in the captains logs. Whatever mysteries this ship held were on these decks somewhere.

It was another deck that had no standing water but seemed perpetually wet - a vast improvement over the last deck. This room was like the one 2 decks up, a wide area for loading and unloading of large and bulky cargo via haulers and servo lifts.
Armor mounted Stab lights illuminated the room with harsh beams upon unyielding corrosion. What the area lacked in water it made up in darkness. There were no barely operating lume globes here. It was pitch black save for lights from your own armor and weapons.

Besides the lift shaft waterfall, there was no sound beyond an incessant drip...drip...drip somewhere off in the distance. With everyone present and accounted for, it was time to move on. Grimnir takes point.




It was navigating a labyrinth in pitch black. Signs had long worn off and there were many paths that led around and back into the same corridors.


Whatever they did seemed to lack in rhyme or reason. There were metallic crates scattered about with perishables long since rotted away. Some rooms had these crates in neat stacks, others had them scattered about as if the ship had taken a hit that tossed them about.

Grimnir comes to a 4 way intersection and squats low. He wasn't sure if they had been to this intersection or not, everything smelled as mold down here and he couldn't trust his keen nose. Still, he had other senses to guide him and they were all sending mixed signals.

The corridors were winding and almost purposely misleading.

Whomever had altered these holds had made sure only those initiated would be able to make their way through.
The maze-like hold was nothing but blank walls, endless passages that all looked the same. The lack of light did not help. These holds must have been kept fastidiously clean in their time. There was a distinct lack of debris.

After walking through the fractal layout, you enter into something different. The walls were the same blank paneling and bulkhead that you had seen up until this point, but now there were rooms without entereing inbto some other corridor. There were bunks - Astartes bunks made of plain slabs of ferrocrete. They were empty and appeared to have never been used before. The rooms contained no personal effects, something astartes still seemed to collect in a manner of speaking. By all appearances these rooms had never before been used. Every 8 bunks you passed was an armory. These rooms were longer, the walls lined with weapon racks, work tables, rows of shelving for ammunition.
These rooms were as bare as the bunks. There was no ammo, no half assembled weapons on the benches or any ancient bolters on the racks. They were as sterile as the bunks.

Making your way through these structures, you hear something.

It was the hum of power and it was ahead....

"Grimnir take us forward. Power could mean traps. Khol, I want your eyes in the middle of the formation - Hydrako, on me. Stay frosty. Let's move out, Draco."

This way Grimnir on point could route them around any potential traps and scope out the vicinity before the Kill Team was noticed, Khol could bring his lascannon to bear at the front and rear of the formation in equal measure, and Hydrako as the Bulwark in his terminator armor with Lucius and his Storm shield provided perfect cover for the rest if none was to be found ahead.

Hold Brothers. There is a fusion microgenerator up ahead, should be terminator-portable. Imperial technology. No clarity on the user.

Sapien's mind was clouded. Something was distracting his mind, but the clouds where starting to dissolve.

"Affirmitive." Bleda takes a position as they move out.

"Seemes like either the previous users of the bunks left this place in good order, not leaving anything behind. Or someone has been here and stocked up on the gear."

It could almost be anyone who now had the missing gear, and that gear could be anywhere but to Bleda the unwelcome idea that the Strikemaster had been here and resupplied himself and his warband on Astartes relics didn't want to leave the Librarian's mind. Even if he tried to stay focused on any disturbance in the Warp.

Cassiel felt a tingle along the back of his neck where phantom hair tried to rise. The hair had been shaved but he was attuned to his body to such a degree that he could feel even the most minute involuntary muscle movements. This didn't indicate fear - just heightened alertness. There was always danger, but Cassiel felt like there was something his senses caught...or maybe a memory of long ago.

'"Team leader, the device Sapiens detects could be part of an automated gun emplacement. Something of that nature could target the entire team and there would be no enemy to attack - and destroying such a relic would be a waste. Recommend one member of the team range well ahead. I volunteer."

There were reasons other members of the team might be better suited to the task ahead, but there was no doubt that it was beyond dangerous. Cassiel didn't want to risk the life of anyone else for something he wasn't also willing to do, but he also knew that Lucius would make similar calculations and make a command decision.

Cassiel considered who he would send. Sapiens with his technical knowledge might have an advantage, or the Space Wolf with stealth and keen eyesight, or their hulking terminator with his layered ceramite defenses - all would be good choices, but irreplaceable, too. If Cassiel were to choose he'd send one of the newest members of the team - not because he wanted to risk them unnecessarily but to give them a chance to prove themselves. Until he knew what they could do he wouldn't know what the team was capable of - and that was something every leader needed to know. Cassiel was ready to go but curious to see Lucius had other plans.

"I volunteer." came a solemn voice from the back of the pack. It was the resident living fossil, the lone wolf and last of his kind.

"If what you have all told me about my kin is true, then I can lessen the burden of their shame by putting my life on the altar of sacrifice. It's the best I can hope for, given my...particular circumstances." Iovanus had been in a grim state for most of the mission, barely uttering a word beyond an affirmative grunt of obedience to a barked order or suggestion. He felt as alien in this team as any xenos that he had encountered, past or present, and he felt that the cloud of suspicion and presumed treachery that hung about him would never be truly dispersed.

It was, in his opinion, therefore wise that he should be the one to run the proverbial gauntlet. After all, either he would begin the long and arduous process of proving his worth to his comrades...or he would atone for the sins of his brothers in death.

Lucius considers Cassiel's proposition for a moment. The Dark Angel had already proven himself as a Team Leader in the past, and had been one of Draco's most stalwart members. When he spoke, Lucius listened.

"Aye, agreed. I applaud your courage, Devastator. Cassiel will take point, but do so with Iovanus in tandem. We will move out in teams of two. Hydrako and Sapiens will follow to provide cover and tech-support so we hopefully don't have to destroy any relics. I will follow with Khol. Behind me I want Grimnir, Ashmon, and Bleda bringing up the rear."

He instinctively checked his bolter and gave the final words: "Every team stay in Vox range of one another. Move it out, Cassiel."

Order given, Cassiel obeyed. He cast a sidelong glance at Iovanus and considered what his presence might mean if they got into trouble.

"Try to keep up, old wolf," he joshes as he begins matching down the corridor.

Throughout the corridors, Khol has to constantly readjust his sights. Making sure his firearm shoots straight and true. Seeing the barracks being so empty is unnerving to him, not even a trace some of the basic objects that Astartes would have in their quarters. When Cassiel mentions about the possibility of what the sound could be, he had to agree. The conclusion of it is was odd though, along with everything else they have encountered on this starship of the space hulk.

Hearing the Luna Wolf speak up for the occasion sparked interest onto how he would handle it, including how he'll continue dealing with his unique circumstance. "Don't become a chav now.", implying towards Iovanus' decision.  "And I'll be chuffed to cover you, bloke.", he responded to Lucius.

Cassiel and Iovanus take point and creep forwards. The hum could be felt in the air now. The atmosphere seemed....charged. Up ahead was a soft bend in the corridor and also a light blue glow.

No noises greeted the pair as they moved ahead. They stalked as quietly as the bulky power armor would allow. Perhaps a raven guard or maybe the wolf scout would have moved more quietly, but that was all speculation.

Whatever was around the next bend was the source. The buzz of electro-arcs were audible in the blue glow, but there was no shadows dancing in the light reflecting off the walls. No signs of activity besides the equipment itself. Once you turn this final bend, you would find the point of its existence and hope to your ancestors that it was not automated defenses with enough force to remove you from the equation.

Turning the corner, you are greeted with something you never expected to see.....

"Don't touch anything," Cassiel commands Iovanus as he moves around to get past the figure and confirm it remains safe. Cassiel was one of the few who knew about the ancient betrayal and what was believed to exist in the deepest bowels of the rock. What he was seeing must be a trick...but the warp had scattered the sons of the Emperor before. The likeness was uncanny.

"Draco, suspected contact with Lion El'Jonson in stasis. No sign of hostiles, continuing to scout immediate area.' If any one else in their small company had voxed that to the squad it would be taken as a jest - but that was new to Cassiel and there was no way something like this could be made light of.

Lucius' heart skipped a beat, and his second heart kicked in immediately to normalize.

"Cassiel, say again." He had to be sure. If this was true, it was a find that could change the entire course of Imperial History. It would usher in a new era of Mankind's dominance among the stars.

Once confirmed, he immediately voxes to Sapiens team: "Sapiens, Hydrako, move forward and make contact with Cassiel and Iovanus. The rest of us will move forward and keep a tight rearguard."

"Understood." It was about all Iovanus could muster in the first moment, not believing his eyes, and he certainly knew better than to disobey the orders of Cassiel, but he was also uniquely qualified to know exactly what he was looking at...perhaps in a way not even a Dark Angel could. "Draco, this is Iovanus. I can confirm Cassiel's sighting...I know that face and armour well enough."

No-one else in Draco had seen any of the Primarchs in the flesh, and although the Dark Angels and Luna Wolves had rarely fought alongside one another, Primarchs were seen in more scenarios than just combat. If this was the Primarch of the First in the flesh, this could change the Imperium of Man almost overnight, in a way no-one could ever have predicted. And yet...

"With respect, Cassiel, something is amiss here, even if everything is as I once saw it in what are now millennia past. We should look at every angle and make sure it is exactly what you and I think it is".

Iovanus also became acutely aware of what fate could await him at the hands of the Lion, given how his original legion's colours and heraldry were on display.

"Copy. Moving in to support."

In that response, Lucius' voice was the closest to breaking it had ever come since becoming an Astartes.

"Primarch or no, stay frosty, Draco."

You move in and take position. It was a laboratory with tables full of equipment of unknown nature.

Three generators provided the glow and buzz that you had seen and heard with each generator emitting cables that all snaked thier way into the central dais. The dais and its stasis field dominated the room. The height of the dais alone was 1.3 meters high. Upon the dais was suspended a figure in resplendent black armor and silvered trim. Its pauldrons were fashioned into lions. A red cape hung from his back and a waist cloth from his belt. The waistcloth had an embroidered sword and wing motif, unlike the broken sword and wing motif Cassiel wore. He wore a winged helmet. Larger than Hydrako in full tactical dreadnought plate, the armor did not seem half as bulky or cumbersome.

An esoteric plasma weapon adorned the primarch's hip and across its back was the largest chainsword you had ever seen.

Sapiens found the comment...doubtful, though not impossible. There where only 5 primarchs who'se status was certain. Horus, Curze, Sanguinis and Manus where conclusively dead; Guiliman was in stasis on Macragge. The other loyalists where largely unknown, but El Johnson in particular was mysterious. There werent even any legends as to what happened to him; and previous interactions with his children showed they knew nothing of what had happened, save perhaps a suggestion he had died fighting traitors.

Nonethless, this seemed...fortuitously impossible. Still, most astartes-were obsessed with their primarchs. The Argent Ultima was founded specifically because Zenodeon believed that his brother's obsession with Manus's death was destroying them. Sapiens would have to be their wisdom, since even those not of his blood seemed affected by the notion.

Brothers, I recommend you pull back. This represents an Alpha-Null grade trap bait, with a 99.9934% chance of it being false. Request, Brother Cassiel, inspect the other components of this structure; does their construction match Dark Angel standards and aestetics, especially the ancient ones? Brother Bleda, I would request you extend your senses; does that stasis field merely contain objects, or is there a soul within? And is that soul genuinely beyond an astartes? I will inspect the machine-spirits nearby, this may yet be a hardlight hologram of some kind concealing a dastardly mechanisms.

The apparent presence of a laboratory was worrysome though; he would have to determine its purpose. He would not put it past some madman to try to clone a primarch, and he would expect such a madman to fail in the most dangerous ways....

"It looks authentic, Sapiens. I agree it can't be true, but it is. I don’t know how I know, but I do. It's so obviously a trap and a forgery that it can't be anything other than real. Recommend full squad converge on our position. No sign of opposition forces or automated weaponry at this point."

Cassiel understood why Sapiens doubted him. What he was saying was impossible. But this was no warp dream and Iovanus saw it too.

"Bleda, move in to assist and assess what the Warp has to say about this. Hydrako, myself, and Khol will be pulling providing security to the entrance to the room. Grimnir, scout ahead if you can and make sure nothing is hiding or waiting for us."

Sapiens, Bleda, Cassiel, Ashmon, and even Iovanus had important parts to play in that laboratory. The rest would need to maintain strict security.

Lucius said a minor incantation to his armor's machine spirits and took off his helmet. He wanted to take in the sight of Lion El Johnson with his own eyes.

It looked every bit as he imagined, but Sapiens' caution was warranted. Even if this was the Primarch of the 1st, it could be a trap. And Draco had to proceed as such.

A Primarch? Bleda is taken back by the idea. It would certainly be beyond the mission and would change everything. If it was true. As Lucius calls the Librarian forward, Bleda responds.

"Affirmitive, coming up." And the Destroyer made his way forward to get a look himself of the being in stasis.

Opening his mind, Bleda first feels out the Warp in general and then turns his mind to inspect the soul and being of the creature caught in the statis field.

Hydrako kept his thoughts to himself. There was no need to add to the chatter around whether it was a Primarch or not. Not for one second did he think it was the Lion, but that didn't matter. Moving in support. he confirmed. Holding the entrance. Upon reaching the threshold, he didn't even glance inside. He would know the outcome soon, as to the contents of the field, but his duty was guarding the rear.

What are your thoughts, Brother. it wasn't a question, and more of a statement, he said when he was back to back with Lucius covering the dark corridor.

Bleda opens his mind and scans the scene.

There was traces of the warp in the area, but they were faint and distant like a smell that lingered long after the source had departed.

As for the subject of the scrutiny, he could make no connection. The primarch was locked in a time capsule and only visual study could be made while the field was still active.

Still, nothing here seemed dangerous, or even unusual. Such small traces of warp could be called normal for a ship that had been delving into the warp without protection for many millenia.

"Are we ready to bring him out of stasis?" Cassiel knew that tests had to be conducted and due diligence was required, but now that everyone had a look he was in favor of powering down the stasis fields - if it could be done safely.

Bleda bring his report to the team.

"I could sense no unusual Warp activity here. As for the subject of our focus right now the stasis field prevents my gifts from investigating him."

Ashmon slowly paces around the archeotech inspecting the primarch as best as he could from every angle.

"I see no signs of injury to the armor anywhere. I dont think he was placed in there for grievous injuries like the primarch of the ultramarines. Based on that I see no reason not to turn the field off. I am curious to see what his mental state is. What would a primarch think after 10,000 years asleep? Care to speculate Iovanus? Would he see us as a threat or would he engage in speech first? I dont even know the primarch's disposition. The Lion was a renowned warrior as they all were, but Ive read no stories about the Lion as an individual. Was he violently belicose like Angron? or as diplomatoc as....."

He stops his out-loud musings, "We can turn his on, but I have no idea how he will react."

"The legends say he doesn't suffer fools, but he deeply loved his brethren. It might be best if you let me, as one of his sons, speak first."

Bleda doesn't know if Brother Sapien is goading him or not but he takes in a stride.

"Some psykers may not be me. Still if the stasis field hails from an age of legend then it might well be of a more capable sort than what we mostly have now, or so I've heard. If it was so good it might also explain why one would be used for a Primarch."

If it really is a Primarch, Bleda thinks to himself. This whole situation felt uncertain.

"Seeing that this might the Dark Angel Primarch, Brother Cassiel is free to make first contact as far as I'm concerned."

"Sapiens, your objective is to glean as much data that you can in the short window we are here. But we will be lowering this stasis field. So, do what needs to be done. Everyone else form a perimeter and stand back. Cassiel, you will be running point on this one."

Lucius pauses for a moment and then adds, "Please don't die. If you do, I will be very put out."

Cassiel briefly wondered whether that was intended for him or for the figure locked in stasis. Either would be personally disappointing for Cassiel - what was less clear was which death would bother him more. His human instinct was to hold his breath until the stasis field was released, but his hypno-training sensed no toxins in the air and kept his breathing slow and steady; likewise his heartbeat didn't race - while this moment was momentous there was no extra physical strain and his body didn't react emotionally. Cassiel sorted his thoughts so there would be no undue emotion there, either.

Sapiens gives a curt nod and complies. Lowering the stasis field to him was no more than pushing a few runes, though in reality it was much more complicated than that.

The intensity of light emanation from the field dropped, then flickered, then disappeared entirely. Accompanying this was a drop in the tonal sound of the microfusion generators. For untold millennia they had done thier duty in stoic seclusion and without complaint, holding the primarch in a time locked dimension.

Now...the machine spirits were let to peace, and the figure slumped down to one knee.

It was not merely a suit of armor, for it moved, but it was slow-Groggy maybe. One arm propped itself on the knee that did not rest on the ground. The other went to the ground. You notice a deft motion on the process of checking to see if his arcane pistol still rested at his hip. Even in such a simple action there was the innate actions of a bred warrior.
There was a sizzling sound, ice bubbling on a hot piece of metal. Several streams of rising steam crept out from darkened crevices in the armor. The head lolls slowly like a patient shrugging off surgical anesthetics.

He makes no moves to guage his surroundings. If you were going to speak first, now was the chance....

"Greetings," Cassiel begins in high Gothic. "We are sons of the Emperor and we continue his crusade. Appearances indicate that you have been," Cassiel pauses for a low-gothic word is most appropriate so he uses 'sidelined' before switching back to high Gothic "for a great deal of time. Your armor speaks of great deeds, but the Emperor has been betrayed before by one who did great deeds in his name. Even my progenitor, the Lion El'Johnson, knows the pain of seeing one close to him abandon the path and lose hope. If you are true, as we are, we can be allies. If you are not..." Cassiel trails off. "You are coming out of stasis. Make no further efforts to obtain a weapon until we have spoken. You are safe until we have had a chance to exchange information. The world you are waking up in is greatly changed from the world you have known. There is much to," Cassiel again uses the low-gothic "de-brief."

There was much that Cassiel left unsaid, but if he was right the rest of the message was heard and understood; if he was wrong, well, on the surface only that this stranger was surrounded by Space Marines at least one of whom was a Dark Angel.

It is done. Brother Ashmon, if your Narthecium is insufficient to cut through that armor to treat any injuries, my bulkhead shears can serve.

Sapiens maintained his connection with the system, keeping ready to reactive it if the subject proved dangerous.  Few things cut better than the interface of a stasis field; the molecules on each side of the even horizon, suddenly vibrating at radically different speeds, would tear appart immediately. His sensors tracked every movement, every heat-bloom, every variation of trajectory.

He felt, in their movement and their words, the vain hopefullness of these children of the first. It was a twisted reflection of the minds of the Iron Hands, like Ashmon, that he had met-grim, broken self-worth unable to cope with a falsely-held sense of failure.

Still, even if this was their primarch, what had millenia in the warp done to them? Chaos had corrupted primarchs before, it was quite capable of doing so again. And some secret tales told of the First's slow appearance at the siege of Terra, and his even quicker departure before his dissapearance...perhaps that was the secret that some of them held, that their primarch had turned, had fled at Horus's failure, and had been put down? It wasnt something the rank and file would have been told. Many mysteries the primarchs held, their origins occluded, unknown, and considering their nature likely unnatural. Though to be fair, while our own origins where natural, our current state was not.

Ashmon knew no fear, but something about the gravity of what he was watching stunned him into a stunned silence.

The primarch lifts his head and the eye lenses lock onto Cassiel for a moment before surveying each one of you, slowly, methodically.
He stands to and and looks around, speaking as he does so.
"I fought the civil war, fought my brothers. I know of what you speak. I saw my father interred in his throne of gold before Robute issued his decrees. Is that what you are? Chapters? Broken Legions?"

He scoffs. A metallic throaty sound from the helmets vox grill. His helmets external vox was damaged, the tone was metallic and harsh.

"How Long?" he says, focusing his steely helmeted gaze on Cassiel.

Cassiel had hoped a flash of recognition at the name of his chapter's Primarch would help confirm in his own mind that what he saw before him was no trick of the ruinous powers. Still, if this was some form of deception his brothers in Draco would have ferretted it out in short order. There were still possibilities - a genetic clone for instance - who knew what forbidden xenos technology might still be at play. But without any reason to doubt beyond the sheer impossibility of it Cassiel responded as if everything was as it appeared to be.

"My lord, your Dark Angles wear different colors some 90 centuries after your disappearance. We before you are Fire Team Draco, of the Deathwatch. The Deathwatch joins groups from all of the chapters in teams; the Dark Angels, the Blood Angels, the Ultramarines - and many more. Each chapter has stood up dozens of auxillary legions, but the gene seed remains true. My name is Cassiel. Meaning no offense, lord, but finding you was a happy accident and unrelated to our mission. Whatever urgent business you think you have it will go better if you give us a chance to bring you abreast of current circumstances. And we can best do that as we continue our mission. Will you join us and take the oath that binds your prowess to our cause?"

There had been other situations where Draco had adopted lost pups. Surely they could do the same with a lion!

At the mention of his Primarch and gene father, Lucius steps forward. His helmet was off so that the Lion could gaze upon his face and read his eyes, should he need. The Primarch saw the tattoos on the sides of his shaven head, the identical scars running down each side of both eyes, and the two service studs above his left eye.

His plate would look different to the Primarch as well. Aside from the Deathwatch colors, he wore trophies of Tyranids, indicative of his time as a Tyrannic War Veteran. Instead of an Aquila, the Iron Skull honor adorned his breastplate. One thing that might look familiar is the Cingulum - given to those in leadership roles within the Ultramarines.

He waits for the Lion to respond to Cassiel before acting.

He plants one bionic fist on his breastplate, a salute in the old ways, and one that the Novamarines still used at times.

"It is as Brother Cassiel says, my lord. I am Sergeant Lucius Vorenus of the Novamarines Chapter of Adeptus Astartes. We are one of the first chapters created from Primarch Roboute Guilliman's geneseed.

What you see before you is a mixture of various chapters, put together as an elite unit to face some of the Galaxy's worst horrors. We are all seconded to the Deathwatch, but we can brief you on that in time. As for right now, we should heed Cassiel's words; will you allow us to debrief you as best we can?"

Sapiens remained deeply suspicious. At first thought, the lion had dissapeared before the splitting of the legions. There where, after all, 7 years between the Siege of Terra-after which the Lion dissapeared-and the second founding; however, there was no precise date, even in his oldest datafiles, regarding the primarch's dissapearance.


Yes...debriefing is necessary. In the 10000 years since the emperor sat on the throne, there have been dozens of False Primarchs, some of which nearly tore the imperium asunder, much like the traitors. And with all the loyal primarchs dead, missing or in stasis, it is stunningly difficult to confirm identities. Though first, I would request to repair the broken external vox; its machine-spirit cries in anguish.

Sapiens turned to Lucius for an acquiescence.

Sapiens doubt was clear, and Lucius regarded it as a good thing. Anything less would be complacence. For now, he - and Cassiel clearly - were assuming the role of taking the towering figure before them at his word. But inside, he was ready to shove a kraken grenade into the weak point of his neck armor if he proved to be a trick of the foul Warp Entities.

"Sapiens of the Argent Ultima Chapter is our technical expert. If you would allow him to fix your vox..."

Lucius waited to see how the Lion would respond, clearly intending to give the nod to Sapiens to continue.

While three of the more talkative members of Draco did the talking with the Primarch, Bleda keeps silent and observes what unfolds before him. He could be witnessing a historical event of far reaching consequences or the greatest blasphemy he ever laid his eyes on.

The primarch tilts his head as he was bombarded for requests to fix his vox.

"Machine spirit? You must be a forge lord based on your excessive kit. Very well."
He bows his head and begins to unclasp the artificed armor.

Pulling it off a mass of golden blond hair falls from within and he raises his head ince again. Buyt what you see causes alarm bells to go off. The Lion's visage had many likenesses carved all over the imperium - all the primarchs and saints of that era had a dozen accepted faces on as many worlds. This face was clearly not any of the ones you had ever seen before. It was a female....
Her face did not look young, but neither did it look old. It did have many scars, much like what you would have expected on a grizzled ecclisiarchy sororitas.

Flashing a look of annoyance at Cassiel, she speaks, "I am Lionna Johnson, Primarch of the Dark Angels - Not Lion 'El Johnson. I tire of that joke, do not speak it again in my presence."

She then tosses towards Sapiens.