Maserati

When it comes to the most vibrant and bustling corners of the Warhammer universe, opinions are always divided.

It could be the holy Terra, where the Ecclesiarchy runs rampant on the surface under the gaze of the God-Emperor, while Genestealer cults thrive in the depths under a four-armed deity; or perhaps the jungle world of Catachan, where the greenery is so aggressive that humans must fight the very trees for oxygen.

Yet, if one were to compare any place to the kidney-stealing sanctuary of Commorragh, only Commorragh could truly hold a candle to itself.

To every creature in the galaxy, Commorragh is a terrifying, bottomless abyss that no probe can ever locate. Even if a named Space Marine Chapter Master were to venture inside, they would be subjected to the ultimate humiliation in every sense of the word.

In this light, Commorragh is much like those impossible-to-find caves in the Amazon jungle—a place no sane person would ever visit.

Sunk deep into his sofa, Hogg felt his canine brain spinning as he gradually recalled the general information about this kidney-stealing sanctuary.

He had to admit, Maserati had certainly picked a hell of a place. With a galaxy so vast, he just had to go there to court death; no wonder there hadn't been any news of him until now.

Watching the Harlequin sitting stiffly upright beside him, Hogg sensed something was off. He wasn't the guy's father, so why would Cegorach help him? Could this fellow be using him as a bargaining chip to trade for the Goddess of Life?

Hogg was not a man prone to overthinking. Since the principal was right there, why waste time guessing? He might as well just ask, and so he did:

"My colorful friend, why does your god want to help me?"

Though