Second Chance.

[Okor]

Okor shook his head sadly. Whelps these days. But what this callous, foolish youth was speaking... It was Anathema to his sensibilities. "I listen to.... your tale. Do me the courtesy of listening to mine. The corpse-emperor still sits upon his throne, for now. You would know this, if you had... assigned any import to my words. Now, open your ears, and... heed me. You speak of assassination and betrayal as if they were deeds of... Worth. You slew the man you swore to guard with your life, casting aside your loyalty. You killed for the sake of blood on your blades, you allowed yourself to be... molded into a pathetic example of mankind, kowtowing to every soft-skinned noble, so... weak-minded to never contemplate taking a stand." He chuckled again, the sound starting to grate on Victor's nerves. He advanced up to the bastard, looking down upon the child."We are as different as day and night.... Wolfe. I kill for my god, for my king, for the end of the long war." Okor crossed his rotten arms, layering jaundiced, taut skin over decaying ceramite. He loomed over the tangled mass of neuroses and unrestrained lusts inhabiting the painfully young man. "And you have never felt the... rush of the first kill again, have you?" Okor laughed again, his baleful red eye giving the impression he was looking several inches into Victor, probing past the mask he wore in civilization. "Every stab of your blades, the splash of... vitae, across your face. Chasing the sensation. I have... watched ten thousand marines fall to the same lure. Once, they were.... respected. Now, they dance across battlefields, covered in swatches of.... human hide, laughing as they toy with their foes. Is this your... future, Wolfe? To become a slave to your urges, abandoning yourself, burning yourself away on the pyres of....pleasure?" Okor leaned back, waiting to hear Victor's retort.