Kharsis sat in his enlarged throne, his mutated head resting on his fist. The bridge crew felt strange to see their Lord, now transformed into a Daemon Prince, appearing so deep in thought. It was a pensiveness that they rarely saw in their more mortal Lord, much less this massive beast of a monster that sat above them all. The cultists continued their duties despite the odd sight, knowing that death was always only a moment away for any of them.
The iron doors to the bridge hissed open and screeched shut again, signalling the entrance of the expected guest. Kharsis barely moved, having summoned the Dark Apostle hours ago and expecting the sorcerer to show anytime. Although the two warriors didn't like each other, their fates were intertwined and each served to further the aims of the other. The Daemon Lord had become ascended due to his Apostle's instructions, and now he owed many souls and influence back for the deed.
"You... summoned me, Coryphaus?" snarked Talus, the arrogant fallen Chaplain. He stood only as far in front of the throne as was necessary, and he bowed his head only barely. Even the massive Terminator armor he wore couldn't hide the contempt from Talus' actions. Kharsis also noted the use of the formal rank- which was hardly necessary at this point.
Yawning, Kharsis turned his attention slowly onto the sorcerer and casually nodded back. His answer was only a whisper, but it was both loud and many, as though a hundred voices whispered, "I did. I must show my gratitude for this gift you have found me..." Although human emotions were distinctly lacking, the words still felt like a snipe at the Dark Apostle. Of course, the ascended form of the Lord made him far larger and more powerful than the already-intimidating Terminator, meaning any insult would have to be forgiven. Talus flashed with annoyance, but stood motionless in front of the Lord anyway. He had not crushed worlds for millennia by being stupid.
"Now that we have sent the XIIIth Legion to flight and destroyed their precious world, what plan do the Dark Lords have for us now?" Kharsis spoke slowly and lazily, knowing that the answer was irrelevant. Being able to reap souls and destroy the empire of the false Emperor were the only concerns to him now. But this 'holy man' in front of him always had an alternate objective. His ability to speak to the spirits in the warp and attract their blessings was prodigious, but so too was his cunning. The Daemon-lord knew, better than anyone, that when his time was done it would be the Dark Apostle who would dispose of him. Or he would try. These thoughts made Kharsis almost chuckle before he'd even finished his question.
