Second Chance.

[Okor]

Okor chuckled deeply, a low rumbling sound finding its way through Victor's bones. So dreadfully impatient. It hardly seemed like the youth took a breath in that entire speech. He thought over what the whelp said, parsing through the youth's string of sound. He came across a point of contention. "Wondrous?" He spoke, lifting his arms, attempting to showcase the void surrounding them. "This is a land of stasis. Creation.... For creation's sake. Always growing, never rotting." He chuckled again, shaking his hooded helm. "Now, life without death is.... hardly life at all, is it not?" Okor's lone eye focused in on the slight youth. How had a boy been able to earn such a rank? He snorted in derision. The youth practically radiated untempered ambition. Everything about the youth suggested a spring, about to uncoil. How long had be been bound by the shackles of the Imperium? The potential for violence issued from him, like a feral wolf slipped free from the rope, searching for its captors. But of course, they were not to be found in this hellish place. After what seemed like a century of pondering, Okor began to speak again. "Nonetheless..." Okor wheezed in a breath of air, the life-giving substance polluted the moment it was sucked into his multilung. He lowered his helmed face, gazing into the young man's eyes with his single, consuming orb. "I am Okor Paleblood, son of the blessed fourteenth legion. I have left my.... Tread upon a thousand worlds, and helped raise an Empire spanning a million stars. I intend to watch it crumble, and to put my blade through the heart of its... God Emperor." Okor chuckled once more, bringing himself to his full three meters. "But of course, where are my.... Manners? What do you make of this.... Realm?"