Second Chance.

[Galel Baraz]

Galel chuckled, his third eye rapidly darting about, taking in everything it could see through the only crack in his armour. Some sort of strange black-skinned man stood near the plague marine and the defeated youth. How could such a tiny being defeat one of Nurgle's blessed? He pondered idly as he continued his march towards the Plague Marine. "You are in no position to defend yourself against a Daemon, son of Mortarion." He said with a hint of condescension, making his presence known to the group. "In fact, given your current state; I'd say you're in no position to defend anything." He paused, grinning beneath his helmet at the situation. He had always had philosophical differences with Nurglites. They were too fatalistic for his liking. Regardless, this Plague Marine was a servant of the Dark Gods, and who was Galel if not a devotee of Chaos? "Though, I am loathe to see a battle-brother slain in such an inglorious way." He said, stopping a few feet from Okor. Galel extended his hand, as if to help the Plague Marine to his feet. "What say Entropy and Energy put aside their differences for but a moment, hrm?"

[Tartaros]

Tartaros was nearing the figures now, and as he walked, they slowly became clearer... A battered and broken youth, lying on the pale white ground... a hulking, and rotting mass, tightly gripping a large blade and lying on the ground alongside the youth... a strange, large man, with armour of shining azure... and finally, a curious, squat creature, darkly coloured and carrying several oversized blades...

As he approached, the situation became far more apparent, both the rotting giant and lithe youth were clutched over, clutching slashes and bruises over their broken bodies, while the imp-like creature simply watched contently and, what was now appearing to be a fellow astartes, extended a hand towards the giant. Desiring to know more, the marine starting running towards the scene.

Eventually reaching the site, Tartaros slowed himself, and slung his boltgun along his back. "Well then... what's going on 'ere?...

[Carn_Val]

Fiddling through my latest piece of Omniverse technology, my fingers brought me to an interesting function. With eyes absorbing every single bit of information projecting from the object's HD screen, I find myself browsing through the pages of an interesting bulletin board of sorts for this cyberspace. A particular post from the page had me tapping on it with my hard finger, the screen screaming in stress as I slide and scrub across it. Good thing I got the one with a scratch-proof screen for my mishandling. After all the fancy little graphics have finished loading themselves, the actual message appeared along with the poster's...poster. Just from reading through it, it feels like whoever wrote this was a kind person but then I remember what Grampa Anomaly always said about never trusting strangers, especially those inside your phone. Wait...did I have a grampa? What's grampa anyway? Weird.

Then it came to me like water from a waterhose as I recall it being a famous show back then in the Event Horizon, roughly three thousand years ago. No wonder why I didn't remember it immediately. It was a funky show to remind us Anomalies what to do once we descend into the observable worlds. It got shut down once the previous Zone mayor was dumped by Grampa Anomaly's grandchild. Pssh...that's Zone politics for you, I don't really understand any of that. I mean what did that stupid mayor see on that flush red, teal polka-dotted flowerpot? Everyone else was aiming for that spacedragon. Well, everyone has their own preferences I guess and the mayor just wants simple things.

After the thought dried out of me as quickly as it had dampened my processing, I caught myself staring at a bystander with my pointy finger still scrubing my phone. This particular bystander had similar taste and getup, obviously washed more recently than the previous one I met (probably cleaned himself two thousand years ago), like one of the men busy knocking each other out. He didn't seem to notice me yet since his focus was on the little duel between the two men whose opinions and ideals lie on the sides of manslaughter. The fight still seemed to drag on further and that got my focus back on the post I read earlier. It was a simple offer; to answer one's questions, probably to pass time or test the poster's range of intellect. I post a reply before going back to the other two.

Watching closely as the quicker man pulled off his chainmail to distract and hamper the moving wall's vision, the agile one kept stabbing the meatlog relentlessly, taking in blows himself as more filth gets sucked into his fibers. If it weren't for the resistant stench and sludge juicing out of punctured flesh, I would have commended the agile one's persistance to the situation. It looked like he was winning when the cyclops' dropped his weapon but it clearly wasn't the case as the very loss of his weapon drove the plagued one into a ruthless feat.The grunting and shouting ends, the squelching of violated flesh subsides and the clashing of metals and armor ceases. Silence.

In the end, the agile one lost, still and unmoving from damage, decay, defeat and disbelief. Devastated but alive, he stares at the silky-white sky of this porcelain world. What is he thinking right now? Perhaps trying to accept his fate? I do not know. The victor on the other hand, appeared to have lost more than he had gained. Yes, he might have defeated the other in glorious combat but, he did not win unscathed. In the eyes of an audience, it was merely a grown man bullying a scrawny person half his size, a child, while his very skill was tested. With a dead arm and limped leg, the being looks at me with a single red eye. A stare of dissatisfaction. He starts marching towards me, howling words that seems to address me with that booming voice of artificial origin.

As the man appoaches me in laboured breathing, surely at his limits, he stumbles. Fatigue, technical malfunction and sustained damage denies him from progressing, only frustration keeps him from falling down completely on his good hand. Looking like he's dragging himself towards me, I smile at the sight of him crawling like vermin. "How fitting," I mumbled as I push myself up. Under his own power, he was unable to stand, and yet he did. With the help of the previous bystander, the cyclops was steadily rising up. Suddenly, a third man of the same size and bulky shell comes running, spouting words of curiousity.

Too bad I am running out of narrator skills once I start losing interest and ignore them as I walk towards the beaten 'Victor'. Looking in pretty bad shape, I reject the thought of eating him. Eating him now would be like taking a bite at a ruined/soiled/nasty sandwich. I have integrity too you know? "Perhaps some other time huh?" I tell him with my trademark smile.

Wondering how he's interpreting what I said, I summon a ton of bandages, complete with the necessary props for mending wounds and injuries. I'm sure he'd heal in time but I have no clue how to fix that now ugly face. I feel wrong about it even if I'm an Anomaly. That's how bad it is. I simply wrapped whatever's left of the face with the bandages and after doong so, I realize I've never done this thing before. I only see this in movies and yes, the Event Horizon has movies too you know? I quickly call out for the conveniently placed secondary in the crowd dressed as a paramedic, complete with a medikit and an "I am a paramedic" reflectorized vest. Aside from this obvious insert, I have no complaints about the story.

The paramedic now doing his thing, I walk back to the cyclops, waving my smartphone with a wide HD screen clearly displaying a "DA" banner ad. I stop in front of the trio, giving them a chance to read. "Interested?" I ask them.

[Victor Wolfe]

Beaten, Broken and Baffled, those where the feeling that Victor had felt just before he fell. No one had pushed him that much, not since he was a child starting his training. Perhaps he was just unlucky or, maybe he had gotten to emotionally invested in the fight.

"Of course that is what happened, you let that wall of flesh get into your head, if you would have used your head more and, maybe used more tricks and traps , we would not need to have this conversation." A voice Victor had heard before spoke, where had he heard it though? Thats right, it was his own Voice, but why did it appear to think independently? " Well that is because of the damage you received both physical, and mental. The way your emotions of anger, pain, and fear all contrasted created a disturbance in your psyche, that disturbance became me. I am the more logical part of your mind , by being able to communicate directly with you I hope to control your emotions better should you get into more conflict. No longer can you ignore me, for I will always be here, ready to advise." The voice replied to Victor's thoughts.

Victor thought about this revelation, it was true that his inexperience had allowed his emotions to take over, being wasteful with his attacking just to try and make the behemoth suffer, and thus had totally burned out by the closing act of their grand play. But how could this voice be trusted, what if its advice would only lead to his downfall. " You can trust me, I am you, and you are me, If you fail, I fail. We have the same ambitions, to gain as much power as is possible, and to kill anything that gets in our way, but you must learn to hold back emotions. This level of freedom is a new thing for us, and totally ignoring all logical thought to give in to basic desire, it's not how we do things." Victor felt a comfort he had not felt in a long time, closeness, as he was always at the top of his art whether it be diplomacy, protection or assassination, he had no one he could call an equil, thus no one ever truly befriended him, most people respected him to much or feared what he would do if they talked back. This voice was an equil, quite literally another him. And who better to tell him what they need to do next than himself.

Victor slowly began to regain consciousness, his advanced regeneration speeding the waking process up, he looked at the man applying bandages , Victor began to reach for his dagger but the voice in his head screeched, " don't even think about it, this person is clearly treating you, it might speed up the healing of our wounds, and our face needs all the healing it can get, and incase you have not been counting there are now four people around us, one at least showing friendliness towards the man you just tried to kill, pretend to be dead or unconscious for a while longer and they may leave you alone, If you sit tight for now even if they try to finish us, we may have recover enough to run away, none appear to be that fast." Victor Wolfe stopped his attempt to reach for the dagger and let this medic continue to clean and wrap his wounds, he did a good job, making sure to clean anything that looked infected before wrapping it tightly, whilst the creature known as Carn was distracting the three giants, Victor whispered to the medic " why are you helping me" his voice was weak and cracked, he had taken much more of a beating than even he could have predicted. The medic whispered back, " Carn told me too". Victor realised the implication of this.

In Victor's land no one would ever help anyone without good reason, favours were expected to be paid back, thus Victor according to his own system of belief was indebted to Carn he would have to find a moment to speak with him, otherwise he would never be able to forgive himself, "our rules sure mean a lot to you dont they?" Victor thought back,"of course, i crafted my code of honor whilst training and during my career as an assassin and guard, without it I am no better than a petty criminal" The voice retorted " Oh come now, we are at least on the level of your average sociopath by now" the voice taunted, Victor could feel himself getting angry, " you see this is what I mean, a voice in your head can cause you to snap, first thing we are training is your self control" Victor calmed himself and agreed. He decided to listen in the conversation that was taking place near him, If he could get Carn alone that would be ideal, he also wanted to know what was being shown on that device, but if not, he would use his assassin skills to track them and find out anyway.

[Tartaros]

Tartaros glances towards the battered man with a small look of pity and says, slightly irritably, "Noone is going to answer me? Very well then...", before meandering slowly towards the imp and reading over the words plastered across the screen.

The marine sees a strange advertisement, for what appears to be some kind of tournament, known as "Dante's Abyss", offering a great sum of the strange omnilium substance "Omni" spoke of as a prize, it immediately peaked his interest. As Tartaros scanned the page in further detail, the bright banner speaks of a certain "Karl Jak", the apparent host of the event, and various sign-up booths located throughout the Omniverse. Finally, there is mention of a survivalist element, with the contestants being transported to an island and having to fend for themselves. Of course being used to this sort of scenario, Tartaros was happy to accept such an offer.

The marine finally shifts his gaze back towards the imp, and with a small and hearty laugh, speaks. "Well then... what have we got here? A tournament?... One packing a nice pay packet for the victor as well...", Tartaros pauses for moment to breathe, letting loose a gust of unnaturally clean air from his helm's respirator, "Right then... this seems rather interesting, I'll tell you what, I'm in."

[Okor]

The low hum of active power armour pervaded the air, worming its way through the bones, rattling the teeth. It was a comforting feeling, a strong reminder of the bonds of brotherhood that defined the Legions of the Great Crusade. A ceramtie gauntlet clasped Okor's arm, lifting him to his feet. He gazed up at his fellow marine, his eye dancing over the scintillating patterns of blue and gold, finally settling upon the scratched Legion badge on the pauldron. He moved the Legionnaire's arm away. "I can stand on my... own, Son of Magnus." Okor gasped, multilungs forcing air through an exhausted esophagus, phlegm, pus, and worse things. In any other being, it would have been the final death rattle. For him, it was a reminder to the galaxy at large that he was alive, and intended to keep it that way. As he rose, he looked around, scanning the other figures surrounding him. Standing on the outskirts was a Luna Wolf, strangely without the familiar colours of the black legion, or even the Sons of Horus. Curious. The Daemon stood in front of him, holding a small screen, projecting colours and motion, a stark contrast to its pitch-black motionless. His lone eye focused in on the lights flashing across its surface.

A blast of flame rolled across the screen, coalescing into two dueling figures, clashing with blades of fire, spraying sparks. A burst fell into the darkness, igniting a sea of Promethium. The camera zoomed across the seemingly infinite pool, racing the flames, blazing towards a pillar of bone. As the inferno climbed the pillar, forming itself into a screaming skull, it focused in on a trophy of gold, studded with a wide variety of gems. The skull reached the peak, swallowing the trophy, before all light fled, leaving a black, empty void. From nothing, came a title: Dante's Abyss: Are you strong enough to survive?

Okor grinned through broken, rotten teeth. Oh, it was so simple. Gladiatorial Combat, with the warriors stolen from worlds across the universe. That must be what the Daemon wished. Violence, Glory, Plunder. What else could he ask for? "I... see now. We were brought here, to fight. To kill. To... win. Where is this... contest, being held, Daemon?" He spoke, eager to see what sort of warriors could stand against him. Given what that whelp could inflict, he longed to test himself against greater warriors.

[Galel Baraz]

Galel pulled Okor to his feet, then wiped his hand on his robes. "It seems this place operates on different principles than the Materium. Were this not the warp, such a whelp could not have injured you so." He said, nodding to Okor. Galel smiled beneath his helmet, his third eye flicking over to gaze upon the anomaly's device. A moment later, it flicked over to the Luna Wolf as it too examined the device. "A competition. No doubt this is what the Dark Powers have gathered us here for, to test our mettle. That daemon, Omni, is undoubtedly the master of these games." The gears within Galel's mind churned, thinking up strategies and plans, attempting to understand what had happened.

The Sorcerer did not believe Omni's words, he knew better than to trust beings of such a nature. His theory was that Omni was a powerful daemon serving Malal, and this was some sort of attempt to fracture the Ruinous Powers. If so, then he had to ally himself with the other Chaos Marines, and bring the Four Dark Powers together as one. If he could not, then Malal would win, and he would not doubt be punished by Tzeentch. Rousing himself from his train of thought, Galel stepped forward, offering one hand to the Luna Wolf and the other to the Plague Marine. "A pleasure to meet you, Sons of Horus and Mortarion. I am Galel Baraz of the Thousand Sons, soldier and sorcerer both. It seems we find ourselves adrift in the warp, with nowhere else to turn. May I suggest an alliance of three? Together, surely we can overcome anything that the Daemon-Lord of this realm can throw at us." He hoped they would accept his good intentions, he had no wish to confront such respectable and formidable foes so soon after arriving in this dreamscape.

[Okor]

Okor clasped the Thousand Son's ceramite gauntlet with his skeletal hand, the yellowed, taut flesh a stark contrast to the iridescent patterns of blue and gold. "Pleased to... meet another veteran. I am Okor, fourteenth... legion, fourth company, eighth squad, seventh marine." He punctuated this with a low chuckle, shaking the Marine's hand. "Of... course, this hardly matters in this era." He turned his baleful gaze towards the Luna Wolf. "And... what is your tale, Son of Horus? I have not seen those colours since... Ullanor." He paused for a moment, rubbing the ceramite plating of his disabled arm. "Were you perhaps present at the... siege of the Citadel of Scrap? I recall Eighth squad held the gatehouse for seven hours." Okor chuckled again, reminiscing. "When we finally left, the hall was... layered with Orkish dead, and spent boltshells. I... trust you took advantage of our distraction? Ah, but, those are tales for a... different time. Shall we make our way to this... Abyss?

[Carn_Val]

Carn here! If you are wondering what just happened, it's actually quite simple...I'm going with walking tanks into the so called Dante's Abyss. I'm not sure what awaits us there but, whatever I win will be enough for me to progress in gathering all the stray Anomalies that may have been created or scattered throughout the Omniverse and, make a home for them, giving them a single spot to interact with each other freely like they should in the Event Horizon. I have been doing well in trying to recruit some extra hands but I might need more in the future since this is no small task for a single Anomaly. Okay! Back to the 'normal' narrative talk now, got to sound professional here.

As I showed the three towers this fancy DA ad, they looked interested way beyond my expectation, safe to say I was surprised. Listening to each of their answers gave me a bigger smile on my face for every confirmation from the trio. Once that was settled, we had to figure out where we should sign-up, I had no clue but since one of them asked me, I had to keep the act and sound like I'm the better one of the group. I'm technically 3 days their senior on this null playground. Looking around and observing the flow of other guests, I spot a certain group of people heading towards the other side of the central spout. This particular group wore a white cotton t-shirt with an "I <3 Guu" print on it, fans perhaps? Keeping an eye at the fans crowding towards the other side of the fountain, I found myself pointing at their expected destination. "There," I answered the stinky one.

Scanning one more time, I make eye contact with the paramedic, he stands up and approaches me. "Oh guys, one sec. Okay?" I walk to meet the paramedic. "Thanks for the help back there. I'm sorry mister medic but I didn't get your name." The man reaches a white rubber-gloved at me and grabs my free arm, gripping it firmly followed by some wiggling motion from no land I have ever seen. "I'm Jed," he says. "Just Jed since I didn't get a last name," he explained. Eh? Probably writer dude doesn't feel creative enough to give him one. I'll talk to him about it, maybe 'motivate' him a little next time. I mean come on, stop slacking! Sheesh. Anyways, I can still feel Jed wiggling is arm, it's starting to annoy me. "Woah, woah. Stop that already, I don't like it."

"It's called a handshake, it's a sign of greeting."

"Ofcourse it is since you keep shaking my hand. You think I didn't know?"

"Oh sorry, that's not what I meant"

"And isn't saying 'Hello' good enough? Keep it to yourself man, you might catch something."

"I'm wearing rubber gloves"

"Cool! Wanna try it on the big guy on the middle?" I point at the plagued one with a comforting smile to hide the conversation.

"No thanks. Oh yeah I have to get back now. Don't worry, he'll be up in no time," Jed starts walking back to the battered man in wraps when I stop him by grabbing on his soft head.

"Here. Take this. One for you and one for him. I might need your help again next time so use that once you're done," I hand him two pieces of my makeshift calling card. The card has a simple black face with the white logo similar to my hat, the back includes all the necessary information to contact me through their phones and whatever communicator they choose to have. I let go of Jed as he continues to walk back quitely. He kneels to finish patching up the guy and I turn back to the tank trio once Jed gave one of my calling cards to Victor. Nice.

Approaching the giants I met earlier, I point again at the destination I think the booth for signing up will be found. "Thanks for waiting guys. So, all of you going with me? Great! Let's join the fun then, shall we?" I give them a little pep talk as I start walking. I feel better now since I can hear the rattling of weighted armor marching behind me with rumbling like no other.

A few minutes in, I turn back and try to feed my curiousity. I look at them one by one while walking backwards and decide to ask them the most obvious questions. "Why do you guys dress similarly. You from the same world or something? Each of your armor looks different too, perhaps from different groups as well?"

waiting for an answer, I slow down my pace to match theirs. Sooner than I thought, we have arrived. People have already flocked into a tiny booth under an open tent with a larger tent behind it. Everyone seems to line up and thinking that we have enough time to chat, I look back at the giants behind me. "As I was saying..." I release my Anomaly skills, barraging them with basic questions to know more about them.

I had to keep it brief since I have to do some stuff. Feel free to fill in the conversation then we can post at the sign-up thread.

[Tartaros]

The marine looks towards Okor and Gale, "Ah... greetings, nice to finally see... something in these damned wastes. Sergeant Tartaros Castus, formerly of the... Luna Wolves second company, fou-", the marine pauses, glaring at the rotting giant and sorcerer through his helm's broken eyepiece, speaking in a spiteful tone he says, "I am no son of that... bloody monstrosity...", before returning to the groups march in silence.

Once the group reach the sign-up both, Tartaros scans around the crowd, "Such a large group... hopefully they're worth the prize they compete for... we don't want this to be easy, do we?", he says, letting out a short chuckle.

That's me pretty much done, unless anyone else has something to say

[Okor]

Okor chuckled. "You are not... far wrong, Daemon. We are the weapons of Mankind's Great Crusade, abandoned, betrayed by..." He took a moment to gasp, and swallow the corrosive bile he was producing. "The Corpse-Emperor. He... created us to build an eternal monument to his vanity, and tossed us aside before the blood we spilled had dried." A hint of mirth entered his voice. "As you might... imagine, we did not take kindly to that. We have... been tearing apart his personal playground for ten millennia, and I will... do so for ten more, if that is what it takes." The small, dark being danced around him, curious eyes darting across his rotting ceramite form. It opened it's many-toothed maw, putting voice to another question. "But, why are you so... dead?"

Okor threw back his head and laughed at this remark. "I am more... alive than any man, Daemon. They are but one selfish life, purging themselves of anything... Else. Nurgle has blessed me with the resilience to... share. From the smallest bacteria, to the largest... symbiote." As if to punctuate this, a serpentine figure writhed beneath his skin, wiggling its way up towards his torso. "Life is... short. Finite. Should it not be shared, enjoyed, with as many others as possible? We... believe so." Dante's Abyss was visible on the Horizon, crowds filing through the opening of the tent, with a significantly less occupied registration area. "I... do believe this is where we part ways, at least... for the moment. I shall see you, on the... other side." Okor waved a brief goodbye, and began to make his way to Dante's Abyss. While he was all for patience, it was ideal to take care of this 'registration' business first. Back in reality, all you needed was someone to scream your name before you fought. How things change.

As he made his way towards the booth, a thought wormed its way through his grey matter. The Daemon did not know us. The Legions had spent millennia making their mark upon the universe. They were the first to bring Chaos to the galaxy at large, the first to pledge their souls to an eternity of warfare. Their greatest warriors, the Primarchs had been elevated to Daemon Princes, absolute rulers of the warp. For a Daemon, no matter how lowly, to fail to recognize one of the true warriors of chaos was unthinkable. He took a second to look around. Feudal World peasants mingled with more familiar citizenry, leather bags of coin and plastic chits, treated with equal respect. Xenos, Daemons, man, all shuffling into a grand tent. It was surreal. It was all mounted on an empty void, a blank white space. For the first time in Okor's life, he uttered a phrase no marine should ever have to. "Where the warp am I?"

[Galel Baraz]

Tartaros' offence at being called Son of Horus perplexed Galel for a moment, before the implications began to sink in. The colours of the Luna Wolves, armour devoid of sigils of devotion to the Ruinous Powers, hatred of his Primarch. He's a loyalist. He could turn upon Okor and I at any moment. Galel scanned Tartaros with his third eye as they walked along with the strange Daemonic entity. His armour lacks the devotional iconography of the Imperium. What then could that mean? Galel pondered, his third eye wandering and scanning for individuals who stood out even as his mortal eyes scanned the scene as a whole.

Dozens of humans, and a few xenos of unknown origin milled about, all of them members of the writhing masses. Insignificant, all of them. Is this "Dante's Abyss" simply a cheap form of entertainment? A charnel pit for the unruly masses to bet upon while the contestants earn a pittance? Galel mused, even as Okor and the Daemon wandered off to register. The sorcerer glanced at Tartaros, trying to gauge his reaction to the crowd. As he spoke, Galel nodded."I fear this may be too good to be true. If only weaklings such as this are competing, then perhaps the prize is not quite so extravagant as is claimed." He paused, then shifted his weight. "If it is such a great prize, however... then we cannot in good conscience allow it to fall into the hands of any other, can we?"

He chuckled, placing a Ceramite gauntlet on Tartaros's shoulder. "I shall see you on the other side, Castus." He grinned, his third eye winking (or was it blinking?) at Tartaros as Galel turned to enter the registration booth. Inside it was quiet, almost too quiet, considering the crowd milling about outside. Some kind of sonic dampening. Reasoned Galel, looking about the booth, his third eye settling upon a thin man in his late fourties, dressed in a relatively formal business suit. The man looked up to the metaphorical giant, his eyes widening in surprise. The clerk shuffled a few papers, then cleared his throat.

"Welcome to the registration booth, contestant! Please, take a seat and we will begin."

Galel paused, raising an eyebrow inquisitively beneath his helmet. He strode forward, moving the chair aside. "If I sat in that, it would break beneath the weight of my armour." He explained, then squatted down so that we was at eye level with the registrar. "I am Galel Baraz..." He began.

[Victor Wolfe]

Victor Wolfe followed the group towards what appeared to be a large gathering, he watched as they walked up to a booth and started filling out forms. " This looks interesting, perhaps this is the tournament that Carn was discussing with them earlier" The voice in Victor's head spoke. " Perhaps, maybe we should sign up, if its a blood sport then it's a good chance, from this we can judge the strength of the average inhabitants, surely there will be easier targets than Okor" Victor thought, His two friends both looked like they would be easier targets, but getting them separated, would be the problem. "Perhaps we can contact Carn, he looked strong and could make a very useful ally, we also owe him a favour for his help" the voice in Victor's head said.

Whilst Victor thought about his option he walked straight towards the sign up booth ignoring the marines, simply saying " good morning Mr. Carn, I hope the day finds you well" Victor Then began to fill out the form.