Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Esqyuin Morus Kyoob's artificier armour was ingrained with oil, dust and blood; his eyes were dull. Yet his arms whirred and flailed ceaselessly, and with sickening precision...
Two sets of eyes, unbeknownst to Kyoob, observed him...
"What can he be doing? How... Sir, how come we to view this?"
In the thrum of a black starship's belly, a vassal stood by his shattered golden lord, and his lord's leeches; and gulped at the grisly scene of heretical machination.
"It is a bizzare portal generator," intoned Inquisitor Kaluha, pipping buttons on the gilded remote control. "Hush." He fought back nausea as medical servitors prodded at his excruciating injuries where they could through his pierced and crumpled terminator armour...
Kyoob stepped back and forth, along an eerily shining device like an open sarcophagus; his arms, and the arms extending from his backpack, and the arms of his coterie of claggy-skinned servitors wove a mesmerizing scrawl around the sepulchural space of the eidedium...
"Years, many years and centuries ago, Kyoob created a teleporter, or more accurately a hybrid of transporter, replicator and cloning device..."
He peered into the portal. Something moved in the depths of the sarcophagus, shadows, an impression. "He created it for Draeger so he could pull his little disappearing act in tight spots." Kaluha's lips were dry. "It would transport his brain out of his skull, place it in a quick-cloned body, and re-equip him from a digitized catalog."
At an inaudible, and probably unhearable command, the servitors ceased their workings and drew away from the container.
"The total void left by the brain consumed his physical remains..."
A thick, rounded-edged lid descended as Kyoob guided it lovingly down with a gloved hand, mating it closed with a stringy puff of gases. Then he stepped back as well.
"An ingenious, but utterly outrageous and repulsive invention."
The lid and sides of the sarcophagus slid abruptly away and shot upwards out of the scope of the portal. Shadow and gas remained congealed atop a slab. Kyoob moved forward busily with an atmospheric disperser gun.
"It took an unscrupulous turn, but... we found a way to use it against him, and perhaps bring an end to all this..."
A black claw shot out of the murk and grabbed the muzzle of the disperser.
The serf's eyes widened...
Epistolary Peltops, with a death grip on the disperser, was breaking from the miasma. He used the tool to push the dumbfounded Kyoob back, until they were up against the wall of the compartment.
Kyoob's voicecaster array emitted a piteous scraping noise, as Peltops raised his perfectly reconstituted Astartes pattern storm bolter to the Forgemaster's face...