Singed flesh, ozone and sacred unguents assaulted Nestor’s nostrils. He breathed deeply savouring the sickly sweet aroma as he waited impatiently for the Warpsmith to uncover the secrets within the communication relay.
“Shackle the soul and forge the flesh. Bind the machine and butcher the rest.” chanted the Warpsmith as his Mechatendrils caressed the relay, their data spikes penetrating the relay’s data-ports, eager to become one with the machine. Nestor watched with mild curiosity as the Warpsmith fell silent, his body swaying to an unheard rhythm.
The battle for Toil’s End had been a stimulating experience. Seventy per cent of Lathe’s Hive city was firmly under his control, but it had not been without its costs. Darius had lost most of his squad to the accursed Death Guard and was even now having a new augmetic limb fitted by the Fleshsmiths. N’kari had been banished back to the warp and it would take many sacrifices to open the way and allow the Keeper of Secrets to rejoin them.
With the main communication relay in his hands it was only a matter of time before he pin-pointed the source of the transmissions that hampered off world communications. Because of the interference no ship could venture further into the Pandora Cluster lest they be ambushed by another ship or lost in the receding warp storms. Where ever this transmitter was located he would find it and control it, revealing the system to the Dark Prince’s desires….