Adrubael Vect, Archon of the Kabal of the Black Heart and Supreme Overlord of the Dark City of Commorragh was bored. He reposed on a rather uncomfortable chair of bones in one of his scrying rooms, ennui creeping upon him as if it were some sable, eyeless spider lurking in the underside pits.
The remains of an unsatisfactory meal lay on the side table, the bulging corpse of some human dignitary or other. While he devoured it, the creature had wriggled and shrieked but it was hardly worth the effort. He’d blunted his table-dagger before cutting into the meat of its thigh one slice at a time, but it wasn’t enough and the fat mon’keigh had simply died mid-slice. He thought half-heartedly about assassinating some lesser Archon to liven the evening up.
A flash turned the usually dark and maudlin room bright white for the briefest of instants before disgorging a Space Marine onto the cracked stone floor. Wolf Lord Ragnar Blackmane knelt and surveyed the room like a predator. He howled high and loud, filling the room with auditory violence.
Vect drew back as Ragnar spun, activating his ancient, ice blue chainsword and annihilated one of the scrying crystals before turning to another. As he vandalised the room, Ragnar screamed names which meant nothing to Vect, as though he thought himself on some long-forgotten battlefield rather than deep in the dark city of Commorragh.
“Madox you traitor scum! Botchulaz you foul beast!”
Verct wondered idly why there were no guards to throw at the feral Space Marine, or at least a slave or two. He felt for his communicator, but the subtle movement attracted Ragnar’s attention. They locked eyes and Vect saw only a deep madness and a beast unleashed.
Ragnar sprang at Vect screaming obscenities and aimed a blow that was too quick for the Dark Muse to ignore. Vect stepped back, parrying lightly with a dagger. He swayed backwards, avoiding another blow that smashed the skeletal chair to bonemeal. To an outsider it looked as though Vect was teasing with Ragnar, though in truth the fight was closer matched than Vect would ever admit.
Vect’s mind was filled with questions as he rolled gracefully towards the door seeking an escape.
“Ghazghkull!”
Vect smelled Ragnar’s foul breath and sweat as he swept past him and, as he placed his hands on the door, another flash of light lit the room bringing silence. Adrubael Vect turned and frowned at the carnage. Just as he had appeared, Ragnar had vanished.
His communicator rumbled softly, and he opened it, his eyebrow raised with intrigue as he read the message. Someone had emptied one of his vaults in the garden of unwilling statues.
Adrubael Vect, Archon of the Kabal of the Black Heart and Supreme Overlord of the Dark City of Commorragh felt a thrill make its way up his spine.
“Now,” he said, a terrible smile forming on his alabaster lips. “Now things were getting interesting.”