Drax Curzon, Archmagos of Soulforge Epsilon, borne aloft on his gravitic dais and flanked by two huge gun savants, that were little more than Lascannons on legs, surveyed the allocated combat zone.
Moritat Phorgal, Archmagos of Soulforge Alpha, approached him on six spider-like legs accompanied by two tech-guards, one a tracked motive unit, the other walked upright on two brass equine hoofed limbs.
"What have you to show me Curzon?" asked Moritat in a standard binary chant.
Several other heads of the houses were ensconced in separate alcoves within the command octon and all buzzed a response in a similar biometric binary clicking. Ignoring the impatient protestations, Drax welcomed his contemporaries into the viewing hall and gave the escort protocol to his tech-guards. He hovered around the room acknowledging each in turn, the dim glow from the biolume globes, inconsequential as all the Adepts had infrared or lowlight optics, served to highlight his magnificence.
Accompanied by the clacking of cogitators and whirring of data stacks, a scrivener, rattled out a ream of datafax containing positional information on the disposition of servo-skulls in the war zone. Speaking with a monotone, grating vox sound, punctuated by the clacking of its augmetic jaws, it spoke in high gothic, much to the amusement of all attending.
"Welcome to the main event...for your delight and delectation...see how Soulforge Epsilon’s Daemonic Engines of war dominate the puny Astartes in these hostilities!"
With the tension eased, each Adept retired to their allocated alcove and jacked in to the console to download the data-stream through their mechandrites.
Before the attending Mechanicum cadre could orientate themselves with the battle coverage, several of the screens covering the interior and exterior of the Bastions in the Death Guards position went blank as both fortifications were pummelled by an orbital bombardment.
"It seems Nestor is eager to get to grips with Festus, we should see much carnage today my compatriots...... Enjoy!"
Moritat Phorgal, Archmagos of Soulforge Alpha, approached him on six spider-like legs accompanied by two tech-guards, one a tracked motive unit, the other walked upright on two brass equine hoofed limbs.
"What have you to show me Curzon?" asked Moritat in a standard binary chant.
Several other heads of the houses were ensconced in separate alcoves within the command octon and all buzzed a response in a similar biometric binary clicking. Ignoring the impatient protestations, Drax welcomed his contemporaries into the viewing hall and gave the escort protocol to his tech-guards. He hovered around the room acknowledging each in turn, the dim glow from the biolume globes, inconsequential as all the Adepts had infrared or lowlight optics, served to highlight his magnificence.
Accompanied by the clacking of cogitators and whirring of data stacks, a scrivener, rattled out a ream of datafax containing positional information on the disposition of servo-skulls in the war zone. Speaking with a monotone, grating vox sound, punctuated by the clacking of its augmetic jaws, it spoke in high gothic, much to the amusement of all attending.
"Welcome to the main event...for your delight and delectation...see how Soulforge Epsilon’s Daemonic Engines of war dominate the puny Astartes in these hostilities!"
With the tension eased, each Adept retired to their allocated alcove and jacked in to the console to download the data-stream through their mechandrites.
Before the attending Mechanicum cadre could orientate themselves with the battle coverage, several of the screens covering the interior and exterior of the Bastions in the Death Guards position went blank as both fortifications were pummelled by an orbital bombardment.
"It seems Nestor is eager to get to grips with Festus, we should see much carnage today my compatriots...... Enjoy!"