05-17-2015, 10:19 PM
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.
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.